The Convent Rose (The Roses) (2 page)

“I was a waitress, not a hash-slinger.”

“And you made me happier than a Miss Texas runner-up and a lingerie model put together. Don’t know how I missed you before with all that blazin’ red hair.”

Bets patted her big mop of deep red curls. “Too bad it’s mostly dyed now. I guess you just weren’t looking in the right direction back then, Ben.”

“When I come into the diner complainin’ about how I got took for a ride again with my second set of divorce papers in my hands, I glanced up and noticed you for the first time pouring my coffee.”

“I said, ‘I wouldn’t do a good man that way. I’d appreciate him.’”

“And I said, ‘Well, honey, let’s go to Vegas and get hitched.’”

“I had to find a sitter for Bodey.”

Bets sat her drink on the bar and squeezed Big Ben’s fleshy hand with her chilled one. Twenty-nine to Big Ben’s fifty when they’d married, now she was pushing forty. Ben’s hair had thinned and his middle thickened, but they still appreciated each other. Why, hadn’t her husband bought this spread when she complained about the dry Texas heat around Dallas making her wrinkles worse? The humid Louisiana air had plumped out her skin like a trip to the sauna.

Of course, Ben had gotten something from the move, too. He’d sold off the Black Angus cattle that came with the place, installed his racehorses in the renovated barns, and bred some more. They were a hop, skip, and a jump from Evangeline Downs and went to the races most every weekend during the season.

The birthday boy reappeared hastily washed and reeking of Brut. Bodey had put on a pale blue dress shirt and casual tan slacks, but he still wore his belt with the rodeo buckle and a pair of expensive alligator boots.

Big Ben looked at his wife of ten years. “Bodey is as fine a son as a man could want, even if he isn’t my own flesh and blood.”

Already supporting two ex-wives and two demanding high-maintenance daughters, he’d listened to his lawyers about adopting the boy. If his impulsive third marriage failed after he claimed Betsy’s son, then he would have another child to support, this one not even a relative. He’d taken their advice for a change, another bad move in his personal life as far as he was concerned. Bodey had turned out to be a fine and natural cowboy who cared more for ranching than for the oil on the land that made Big Ben Barnum rich.

“Come here, son,” Big Ben shouted over the heads of his guests, mostly men in oil-related businesses out of Lafayette. Some had brought their wives. Some had brought their bimbos.

Ben gave Bodey a bone-crushing hug. The boy didn’t have his massive build or long legs, but he had it all over his old stepfather in looks. Slim-hipped and of medium height, Bodey Landrum’s blue eyes, dark hair, and cleft chin attracted women wherever he went, mostly to high school and rodeos for now. A small crescent scar in his cheek received from the tip of a bull’s horn was as attractive as a dimple to females. The kid didn’t know his own power over the opposite sex yet, preoccupied for the time being with bull and bronc riding, but one day he would come into his own. Big Ben had made sure Bodey would know what to do when that time came.

Ben released his stepson and clanged a silver fork from the bowl of lime wedges against the side of a margarita glass. “This party is being held in honor of Bodey, Betsy's boy, who turns eighteen today.” Regret that he hadn’t made the kid his own tinged his voice.

“We don’t want to keep Bodey in suspense all night, so we’re all going out to the drive for a minute to give him his gift. Afterward, we’ll cut the cake and have dessert before dinner—because that’s the way life should be lived. Y’all follow me now.”

With Bodey wedged between Big Ben, who kept a heavy arm slung over his shoulders, and his mother, who had wrapped her bracelet-laden wrist around his, the family led their company out to the long drive running up to the side of the house. On cue, Rusty Niles put the black Chevy Silverado truck into gear at the foot of the hill and drove it and the matching double horse trailer up to the house. He parked, got out, and threw the keys to Bodey.

“That’s one sweet rig,” he told his friend with just a tad of envy. “I’ll be lucky to get my dad’s twelve-year-old Ford truck to drive to college.”

Both the truck and the trailer were custom-detailed with gold pin-striping. On the door, the long gold line curved into racing letters spelling out “Bodey.” The boy checked out the door in the side of the trailer. It opened into a small room for tack and had a cot that folded out from the rear wall. Then, he fiddled with the dual-speaker radio inside the air-conditioned, leather interior of the cab. Standing on the deep running board, Bodey showed his manners by raising his hands for silence.

“Big Ben has always treated me like his son, and I want to thank him for getting me this fine rig and for not getting me one of those sissy sports cars he gave his daughters.”

The group laughed appreciatively and began to wander back to the bar and snacks being served by the hired help. Bodey signaled to his buddy and dangled the keys.

“Want to unhitch the trailer and go for a ride? Maybe we can find some girls and bring ’em back to the party. So far, the only ones here are Ben and Bets’ old friends.”

“Hold on until you get my gift.” Rusty eyed the access road at the foot of the hill.

“No need for a present,” Bodey answered hastily, knowing how every cent Rusty earned went into his college fund.

“Didn’t cost me a dime. The phone call wasn’t even long-distance. And here they come now.”

A sharp, red four-seat convertible turned off the access road and passed under the Three B’s arch. Filled to bursting with Mount Carmel girls, some still in their uniforms, others dressed for the occasion, the sporty car roared up the hill.

“I called my Cousin Renee about that blonde chick. It seems Cuz was having a sleepover tonight for some of the Academy girls, so I invited them to the party. You know what they say about Catholic girls. Can’t wait to do it once they get away from the nuns.”

Somehow, seven young women had jammed into the jaunty little car. They waved like a fourteen-armed octopus and shouted to the guys as Renee brought the convertible to a screeching halt. Bodey scanned the group for Miss Fancy Pants. Four bottle blondes, but none of them was her. Oh well, at least this group looked happy to be here.

Rusty signaled to his cousin to park on the grass between a Caddy and a Mercedes. The girls tumbled out, swayed up the rest of the hill, and skirted the new truck and trailer without giving the rig a glance. They moved on to the rear of the house with Bodey and Rusty in the center of their swarm and ran smack into Betsy Barnum.

“It’s so nice some of your friends could come,” said the cautious mother. “Since y’all are here, please help yourself to some Coke or Dr. Pepper over at the bar. Bodey needs to blow out the candles on his cake. Then, we can get to the food. Renee, I know you, and these girls are…?”

“Courtney, Jennifer, and Kelley,” she pointed to three of the blondes. “Julie, Sally, and Noreen, my friends from the Academy.”

Renee tossed auburn locks a shade brighter than Rusty’s hair. Her freckles were carefully obscured by make-up, and her lips and eyelids smeared with quickly applied cosmetics. She had thrown on a backless sundress and attired four friends of similar size in party clothes probably from her vast closet. The other two still wore their plaid kilts and white blouses.

Renee gushed, “We’ve heard about the bashes at the Three B’s, and we weren’t about to miss a minute of this one. Thanks for inviting us.”

Knowing full well no invitation had been sent to this somewhat slutty girl, but assuming her son had called them, Betsy Barnum fell back on her own manners. “Nice to meet y’all. Well, go on now and get something to drink. Bodey, the candles are dripping wax on the cake. Blow them out like a good boy.”

Courtney and Kelley snickered. Bodey turned red as a Texas sunset, but obediently walked over to the cake and did the birthday routine. The guests clapped. Betsy started cutting the cake, placing little chocolate squares on paper plates.

The schoolgirls, meanwhile, circled the pool. Kelley pointed out the grossness of the pig’s head on the table while short, plump Noreen shook her head of dark curls sadly and said, “Poor Piggy,” her deep brown eyes filling with tears. The others, heading for the bar, passed without a glance at the table.

Renee put on her most sophisticated air and requested a rum and Coke from the college boy tending the bar. He eyed her up and down, then shrugged and poured the drink. It was private party, and none of his business. The rest of the girls lacked Renee’s nerve and settled for diet versions of Dr. Pepper and Sprite. They swooped down on a bowl of spiced pecans and carried it away to a table on the lawn where the flock settled. Renee, seeing Bodey on the loose, waggled a finger at him and he came.

“Say, Bodey, I heard you want to know all about Eve Burns. I can tell you, you are wasting your time on the Princess. She doesn’t date, probably wants to be a nun. Besides, she’s Daddy’s little girl. I invited her to my party tonight, but no, she’s going to New Orleans with her father to see a play over the weekend. I’m surprised she isn’t here. Her dad is over there talking to Mr. Barnum.”

A bluff, blond man nearly Big Ben’s size and red in the face from drink, gestured with a long-necked beer bottle to make a point. Ben’s voice boomed over the crowd noise. “Yep, I agree about them A-rabs. They’re a sneaky bunch. Who knows what they’ll do next when it comes to oil prices. But this is a party. Let’s forget about the future for a while—eat, drink, and be merry, right!”

“You sure your boy wouldn’t rather have Jag or a nice Mercedes roadster?”

“You done sold me two new Cadillacs last year, Dickie, so quit being the salesman. Bodey got what he wanted. The boy plans to do the rodeo circuit when he’s not in school. I said to Bets, let him do what he wants, but she is insisting on four years of college for the kid. Hell, I never went to college, and I’m richer than anyone at this party.”

“Is that so?” Richard Burns said. “Nice to find oil on your ranch in Texas, though.”

“Go on and enjoy the party!” Big Ben slapped him on the shoulder, then turned to pinch up a piece of the steaming pork with a little bit of the shining browned skin attached from a vast platter just set on the table. Ben swallowed the gob of meat and reached for a pitcher of margaritas. He banged on it with a serving fork.

“Listen up folks, one more time! We got another surprise to announce.” Big Ben checked to see if his ranch manager had arrived. Trim Ted Niles, cleaned up in a white shirt and wearing a black string tie, had slipped quietly into the party and now sat at a table on the land he’d once owned.

Big Ben beckoned the boys away from the Mount Carmel girls. He put his beefy arms around their shoulders.

“Bodey here, got offered a scholarship from McNeese University where he plans to head up their rodeo team. I tried to talk him into A & M or UT, but he wasn’t having none of it.” Applause, hoots, and hook ’em horns signs came from the audience.

“I said Big Ben’s boy can go anywheres he wants. He don’t need a scholarship, but I do know a lad who does, Rusty Niles, a great roper and steer wrestler who would be an asset to your team. Rusty, you and Bodey are going off to college together. Let’s give these boys a hip hip hooray!”

Ben Barnam held up Rusty’s arm like he’d just won a boxing match. Russell Niles dipped his head so his reddish-brown hair flopped across his eyes.

“Okay, now. Let’s eat this here pig before he gets cold and turns to lard. Boys, you go first.” Big Ben gave them a friendly shove and lined up in back of Bodey.

The teenagers filled their plates. Bodey headed straight back to the Mount Carmel table where the girls had accumulated a few stray margaritas. Rusty Niles went over to his father seated nearby.

“It’s not right. If the scholarship was for Bodey, they shouldn’t give it to me.”

“Don’t be a fool, son. Bodey Landrum doesn’t lack for money.”

“We’d have money like Uncle Jed if you had gone into real estate and sold off the land for houses like he did instead of giving it away in one piece to Mr. Barnum.”

“Big Ben gave me a good price and a promise not to subdivide the ranch. I’m sorry the money had to go to paying off the mortgage and the rest of your mother’s medical bills, but that’s the way of life. We still get to live here, and I got a good job with Three B’s. It don’t pay to be too proud, Russ. Pride can ruin a man.”

“I’m not proud. I’m ashamed and embarrassed.” Rusty left his full plate on the table in front of his dad and stalked off to the barns to brood.

Bodey watched his friend go. He’d heard enough of the conversation over the chatter of the girls to know Rusty needed his support right now. Who cared how they got to college? Going to the same school they could do rodeo together, chase girls, and generally cut loose. He’d point that out to Rusty, cheer him up. He started to rise, but Renee Niles pulled him back to the table. She’d been pouring the margaritas into the empty soda cans just in case Mrs. Barnum came around to check up on the group.

“Anyhow, I said to Eve Burns, how come you didn’t get a car last fall for your sixteenth birthday when your daddy owns Burns Luxury Vehicles? She says her daddy drives her to school every day, and that is their time together.” Renee lowered her voice as if she were in the confessional. “Her parents are divorced, you know. He still has to pay for her schooling. I don’t know why she’s such a snob when everyone knows her daddy is the worst kind of womanizer.”

“I don’t think she’s a snob. Eve is just quiet. She likes to paint off by herself and spend time in the stables with the horses. She wants to go to art school, not the convent,” dark-eyed Noreen claimed, ending her statement with a hiccup.

“Oh, drink up, Noreen. This is your night. We’ve all done it except you, and we have two fine cowboys ready to help you out.”

“I don’t think I can.” Noreen put her hand over her lips to suppress the hiccups. “It’s a shin—a sin, you know, sex before marriage.”