Chapter 13

My death wish mentality takes over and I don’t care how creepy this corridor is; if Cian is here and stuck in the bowls of Fort Macon I need to get to him and help him. I pull my cell phone out and use it as a flashlight; all along taking deep head-rushing breaths as I walk slowly through the darkness. I get a cold chill and pick up my pace; there are plenty of ghost stories about the fort and considering the type of “person” I’m searching for I’m not about to start discrediting ghosts. I look back and forth, turning around every so often; as if reenacting a Scooby-Doo episode. All I need is the cheesy music to accompany me. I want to call out his name but the light I see in the distance tells me my senses are playing tricks on me again.

I round the corner and scare the absolute shit out of a pair of teenagers who can’t believe I just came from where I came from, “Did you really just walk through there?” The bleach blonde girl in a pair of booty shorts and bikini top asks me as I ascend the steep staircase to the outer level of the fort.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad.” I say and I think, “you liar.” Her boyfriend cranes his head around to peer into the nothingness I came from. I vaguely hear him tell her where she can go if she wanted him to go in there. I balance beam the outer membrane and take pictures of the gun slits built into the brick and I find a small hill to stand on for the best aerial shot of the structure I’m going to get. I shoot the wrought iron staircases and cannon rollers. On Memorial Day the Civil War re-enactors dress in the garb of the time and shoot the cannons off every couple of hours.

I’m satisfied with my photos and head back to my car. It’s blistering hot in here; I immediately roll my windows down and before I leave the Fort Macon area I check my cell. I smile big and bright; Justus has been calling me consecutively since I silenced his call this morning. I drop it back into my bag and stop at the first gas station I come to across for a bottle of ice cold water; it’s delicious, freezing my throat as it moves down.

While I’m on this side of the island, instead of going back to Emerald Isle, I take the right onto the bridge into Morehead city. I decide to escape the heat and head to the History and Art museum. Kill two birds with one stone; appreciate preserved art while preserving myself in the air conditioning. I of course make a generous donation to the facility before making my way around the museum admiring the work of those that came before me and flourished beyond me.

I feel refreshed and decide to vacate the premises because I’m hungry and when you’re in Morehead City you eat at Sanitary Fish Market. I order a shrimp plate to go and while I wait for my food I purchase t-shirts for Scarlet and Henri. Black short sleeve for Scarlet and long sleeved tie-dye for Henri. I take my lunch across the bridge into the beautiful town of Beaufort; I find a cozy little spot in front of the water where the large boats, nay, yachts dock. While I eat my lunch I people watch; the tan captains fitted with their visors and talk of “the big catch”, couples hand in hand, window shoppers and rowdy children.

After I finish I take out my camera and photographically capture them all as well as vacant boats and storefront restaurants. I throw my trash away and start for the row of historic homes lining the waterfront. Instantly I feel like I’m at home walking down the streets of the Garden District, palatial whitewashed homes with black shutters and accents; each one has either an upper balcony or a widow’s walk. I shoot every single house and keep every single picture no matter how blurry it might be.

I take a photography break and go inside the Maritime Museum once again to cool off, it may be September but it’s still humid and every day is different. The cold air hits me fast, the sweat gathered at the base of my spine freezes and sends a refreshing shiver through me. I remove my sunglasses and make another monetary contribution before meandering around. I pass through displays galore; wildlife and sea life of eastern North Carolina. Animatronics of the salt life, tanned bleach blonde boys show what life is like on the water day to day. As interesting as it is, I’ve seen it but what I stumble on in the museum’s special interests section is currently the progressive running display of pirate attire and findings from the wreckage of the Queen Anne’s Revenge; Blackbeard’s flagship found off the coast of Beaufort inlet. For years and years people have returned from the site of the wreckage with something never before seen by the modern populace. This year it’s a conglomeration, of which I can’t take pictures and I respect the rule unlike others among me; I roll my eyes at the insolence. The flash from each picture could potentially ruin the integrity of the glass encased pirate pageantry.

Before I leave I buy replicated doubloons for Henri and a compass pendant for Scarlet, I know she has a chain at home she can wear it on. I also buy a poster sketch of Blackbeard and the various pirate flags to frame for my new house. Maybe I’ll decorate Henri’s new room in North Carolina pirates. I hear my phone chime, I pull it out; it’s a text from Justus, “We need to talk, stop avoiding me.”

He’s right; again I’m making assumptions about Justus. He’s a grown, single man and I’m not in the habit of stringing anyone along, regardless of my minimal feelings for him. If they are real feelings at all since I’ve projected my missing Cian on him more than once. I have to make this black and white; let him go. I call and he answers immediately, “Hi.” His voice is husky and solemn.

“Hi!” I say cheerfully

“You sound really well.” He says and I can hear the hangover in his voice.

“You don’t; I’m sorry.” I’m still overly cheerful.

“I suppose you found what you’re looking for?”

“Not yet; still looking. I went to Fort Macon today, right now I’m in Beaufort; it’s exceptionally beautiful here. How’s Wrightsville?” I ask not wanting to get into who answered his phone this morning because it’s none of my business.

“It’s here…Babet?” He says solemnly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come see you?”

“No Justus, besides I’ll see you in a few weeks.” I comfort him.

“I know, I just…I need to see you.” His tone is almost pleading.

“You’ll see me on your birthday; bright and shiny and ready to party!” I do a little shimmy and get an awkward glance from a few people, I smile it off.

“And if you find him before then?”

I hadn’t thought about that, what if I did find Cian before September 30th and deserted Justus on his birthday; the hope for seeing me when my job resumed is off the table due to studio issues in Wilmington. I keep it light and joke, “Then he will come with and celebrate too.”

He is silent.

“I realize it’s not exactly what you had in mind but at least we can hang out again.” I try to reassure him.

“It’s, in no way…at all…what I had in mind.” His tone is ominous and seductive.

I laugh, “I’m sure.”

“Where are you right now?”

“I told you Beaufort, I just left the Maritime Museum. Across the street is the vessel restoration warehouse and it looks like their restoring a WWII landing craft. Besides there, I haven’t decided where to go next, this place is so picturesque.”

“You sound really happy.” He doesn’t.

“It’s this place; I swear it’s where I’m supposed to be. Don’t get me wrong; I love and miss New Orleans, but here it’s just…I don’t know.” I take a deep breath and again I can smell Cian, “Justus?”

“Yeah?” He asks, still no happiness in him.

“I have to go, I’ll call you later.” I say and hang up. I walk nonchalantly trying to not look like a nut job as I continuously breathe deep. I round the blocks by the waterfront but the scent fades away. Frustrated I go back to my car and drive over to the Beaufort cemetery to shoot the mausoleums, headstones and obelisks. I come close to one of the cement mausoleums with iron work doors that looks like something Teacup would do. I swear I can hear something inside; like singing. I circle it like a shark, shooting it from all angles and as I stand before the doors I drop my camera into my bag and place my hand on the metal and then my ear. I hear muffled echoed singing and I have to resist the imperative urge that engulfs me, to enter. I back away, shaking the ridiculously strange compulsion. I warily shoot the doors one last time before going back to my car and heading back to Atlantic beach.

I decide to make another stop at “A Little Pot?” In hopes Chloe is there; I like Helena but she will talk you to death, bless her heart. I park and go inside; I don’t see anyone behind the counter so I mosey around to see more of local artists are featured. Pottery, Watercolors, charcoal sketches and iron work are displayed in nice groups. Helena carries a lot of beach stuff too; towels, flip flops, sunglasses and various t-shirts. I go over to the Wildberry incense display and pick out my favorite scents from the glitter fairy series; I buy ten of each, Fairy dust, Fizzy Pop and Isis.

By the time I’m ready to pay there is a girl behind the counter, not Helena or Chloe, “All set?” She asks me as I place my bags of incense on the glass. She rings me up and asks if I need a bag, I decline and leave. I look across and see the carnival rides and amusement midway has returned to the Atlantic beach circle. The Atlantic beach circle is a drive thru at the largest public entrance to the waterfront, very popular for many years with the younger crowd, teens and young children are a common staple. The teens enjoy the cruising and the kids enjoy the rides. In later years as I see now, the police have been steadily increasing their patrol in this area and for a long time the midway stayed away due to crime.

I park where I can and walk over to Ziggy’s by the Sea; a well known club on the water front in Atlantic beach. Famous for its small but fun venue, lots of big names have graced the stage at Ziggy’s. I remember when I was here last, Clutch played to a packed house. On the marquee the music festival this year features less well known bands but I’ve heard of three that will be performing. Deep Fuzz a melodic metal band, similar to Clutch; their songs are well written and the music is deep. Their guitarist, Dubs Williams is a bassist for another band in Charleston, SC.

I see the other two bands I am familiar with; Den of Sin and Waning Sun. Both bands feature a Puerto Rican singer who looks like a petite Angelina Jolie, before the actress became a mom. Lily Bullet has black hair and dark makeup, in the two photos she is dressed in a black corset and tight leather pants which only accentuates her curves, her lips are bright red and her eyes have a hint of evil about them. In the Waning Sun photo she is featured with a Viking looking gentleman I assume is her husband Bron who has long blonde hair down to his ass and pale skin. In the Den of Sin photo she is flanked by three others, a girl and two men. I take a flier for the show next Saturday. I make a mental note to attend and hopefully get the Warrens to go with me.

I begin to walk back to my car when I hear my name being called, “Babet! BABET!” I turn around and Calista LeBeau Keever is headed my way.

I squint because I can’t believe she’s here, “Calista? HEY!” I wrap my arms around her neck, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same; I heard you were taking some time off, but I didn’t know where you were headed.” She is smiling dumbfounded.

“Yeah, small world! I was just checking out Ziggy’s line up next Saturday, how long are ya’ll in town?” I ask showing her my flyer.

“Oh, we leave tomorrow. Do you want to go have dinner with us?”

“Sure.” I follow Calista and her husband John to the Four Corners Diner. We order a fish plates and a couple of rounds of beers. We talk and talk, it’s nice to spend real time with Calista. We went to high school together and once I returned to New Orleans, she and I became very close. Back then we were young and had little to no responsibility. Boy how times change and age spins your life faster and faster, the more you gain and take on. After I’ve had a few I grab Calista’s arm and check out her healing, “You’re taking good care of it, right?”

Calista’s husband answers for her, “She’s kept sunscreen on it religiously.” He says before taking a swig of his beer.

I wink at her as I finish my mine. We part ways after it’s nearly time to close the diner and I drive back to Watersedge. At the Hilliard’s the Coop is gone again, I think to get my camera to go down to the pier, but I’m tired and I decide to shower and call Justus.

I call and he answers on the first ring, “Babet?!”

“Hey, sorry to call so late; I just ran into an old friend and got to talking.” I sound like I’m groveling.

“You are a piece of work you know that?!” He sounds aggravated.

“Okay; how so?”

“I don’t like being hung up on and I still need to talk to you about your job.”

“I already know; I’m not needed.” Now, I sound aggravated.

“I wouldn’t put it that way; but yes, I suppose my father sent you an email?” His tone is subsiding.

“He did, he said things could change again though. I’m keeping an eye on my email, so…” He cuts me off.

“You still need to finish Soren’s portrait too.” Justus is enjoying telling me what I already know.

I take a deep breath, “I had intended to finish it the morning after your birthday celebration but if you are going to act like an ass, I’m not coming. I’ll come to Wrightsville, pick it up and take it back to Emerald Isle to finish it; only to mail it to your father. You won’t see me again.” I don’t see it as much of a threat but I know Justus does.

“You wouldn’t?” He says snidely.

“Oh, wouldn’t I.” I’m trying to joke with him, but it’s not getting through.

“You would leave me all alone on my birthday?” His tone is childlike.

I decide to pull my ace in the sleeve, “You wouldn’t be alone, I know you wouldn’t.” the last bit is snide out my lips.

Justus stammers before saying, “I surrender; I don’t want to fight with you.” As if I can hear him holding his hands up to relent.

“So you don’t deny having company the other night?”

“No.” He plainly states.

“Fair enough, I’ll see you September 30th Justus; tell your father I replied to his email since,” I fake looking at the tablet, “I see he hasn’t emailed me back.” I don’t care if he has or not, Justus always enjoys a game and we’ve begun to play.

“Good.” Again, he plainly states.

“But I want to ask something of you and it’s a condition of my coming back to Wrightsville for your birthday?” I say baiting the hook.

“Oh? I’m listening.” The line is cast.

“I want to you discontinue calling me, emailing me, or texting me until your birthday, can you do that? Can you do that for me Justus?” I’m waiting for the bite.

“Why?” Oh man, he’s pulling.

“Because I need to focus on finding Cian and if you care about me at all, you will do this.” I’m reeling, he’s pulling and pulling. He’s silent, “When I came to work for your father, I had an agenda. I had a plan, meeting you disrupted my plan and because of our friendship my focus has been derailed.” I’m still reeling.

He is silent again, before saying; and I hear the elation in his voice, “Okay…but I don’t like it.” Got ‘em!

“Thank you…so?” I ask humorously.

“So, what?” His confusion is hilarious.

“So what do you want to talk about? You have me for the rest of the night.” I say cheerfully but I forget myself with Justus.

“Only on the telephone…” Justus and I talk for hours until I yawn and he makes a joke about boring me. I laugh and after I told him of my day and I tell him about watching his show, he relents, letting me off the hook. I hang up with Justus and I’m tired but I’m not. I pull out the cellophane of extraordinarily good cannabis from the Warrens and roll another pin joint.

Instead of enjoying it in the tub I take my little friend outside; it’s late enough for the “crowds” to have gone to bed so I feel less than self conscious about walking down to the beach front while I smoke. I walk out of Watersedge and across the street to a public beach access entrance. The sand through my toes is cool and grainy and the closer I get to the crashing waves the wetter and colder it becomes. The silence of the night is enhanced by the deafening sound of crashing waves. I shut out everything and focus on the sound, rhythmic and hypnotic.

The salty wind whips my hair across my eyelids occasionally stinging them and with the joint in my hand I grab my hair to one side only to release it and resume the fight with nature. In the wind the joint goes out, I cup it in my hand and walk back to Watersedge. Every time I come in and out of this neighborhood I pass the Hilliard’s and I notice something about the Coop DeVille; it’s gone during the night and always here during the day. Maybe the kid has a night job, but what could that be in a beach town? All the strapping work is done during the day and Mrs. Hilliard said he was a handy young man.

I get back to Everett’s and clean up to climb into bed; my legs are somewhat sore from walking all day and my little constitutional just now. I slip away and dream of my kids playing in Jackson Square and Mamma and Daddy, Frankie and Molly; I dream of home.

When I awake I feel less than great and I spend most of the day hanging around the house, watching television and occasionally work on my current painting; the sunset over the Emerald Isle sound. The following day and rest of the week I’m useless, the Warrens call about the festival at Ziggy’s and I’m just not feeling it.

Chloe isn’t letting me off the hook, “Come with us Babet; it will be fun. Besides, JB has some pretty hot single friends.”

I relent because it might be fun, oh hell, I know it will be fun, “Okay, I’ll meet you down there. But, Chloe, I’m not interested in meeting anyone, okay?”

Chloe giggles before saying, “Okay. Yay! Okay, we’ll meet you down there at 9:15, JB want to be sure to see Deep Fuzz.”

I hang up with Chloe and search my duffle for something to wear. All my sundresses are too goody-two-shoes and my shorts aren’t rock-star enough for Ziggy’s so I improvise with a pair of cropped black yoga pants, Estella’s stilettos and the t-shirt Justus gave me. Rockabilly; black on black on black, perfect. I smooth my hair and apply more makeup than usual. I walk the house a couple of times to get used to my shoes again and make a mental note not to drink too much or I will be on my ass in these things. I make the twenty minute drive to Atlantic beach and park as close as I can to Ziggy’s by The Sea. Outside I don’t see Chloe or JB so I decide to go ahead inside and pay my cover. I stand in line with others dressed like me and once I reach the door girl to hand her my cash I see that the pretty young woman has punctured her beautiful face with adornments.

Her eyes light up when she sees my t-shirt, “That is my favorite show!” She comments smiling.

I look down, and play it off like it’s my favorite show too, “Team Bane for sure!”

“For sure!” She retorts and stamps my hand.

After I pass her into the club I scan the bar and the surrounding tables for the Warren’s. I don’t see them, but Ziggy’s has a great Oceanside party deck so I move through the crowd to go outside, low and behold the Warren’s and their inner circle are monopolizing the area.

Chloe turns when JB taps her arm and points to me, “Babet! I’m so glad you came!”

I smile and hug her, “Thanks for getting me out, this will be fun.” I can’t help but feel eyes on me and I look in the direction of the gaze. Once I catch eyes with the lurker he starts to head over to Chloe and me.

“Chloe, introduce me to your friend.” His tone is slimy and arrogant. “Hi, I’m Raphael.”

“Raphi, I told you; my friends are off limits.” She says rolling her eyes and sipping her drink through a tiny stirring straw.

I hold my hand out politely, “Babet.” I say emotionlessly.

Raphael takes my hand and kisses it; I look up at Chloe who rolls her eyes again. Raphael is only around 5’11 with a curly black mop of hair; his eyes are dark brown and almond shaped. He has a decent physique but his egotistical attitude makes him very unattractive. His pouted lips leave my hand and when his back is turned I wipe the back of my hand off onto my pants. Suddenly I feel another pair of eyes on me, in that direction I see the owner of Hawk’s Eye. Barron’s friends are engaged in conversation, but Barron isn’t paying attention. He smiles at me and looks as though he is going to walk over. I smile and wave just as Chloe nudges me.

“Let’s get you a drink.” She suggests.

I make a closed teeth, tight-lipped smile and say, “Yeah, please.”

I follow Chloe back into the club and through the crowd again to the bar, she bounces up to it and turns to me, “Shots, Beer, Wine, or Mixed?”

“Shots. And then maybe a beer.”

“What’s your poison? Wait…wait, let me guess?!” She’s already feeling pretty good. “I remember you used to drink Jager?” She says pointing at me and smiling.

I tilt my head to congratulate her and thankfully, after I notice the club has the black syrupy liquor chilled on tap, I hold up two fingers. Chloe orders twelve shots of Jagermeister and directs the bartender to the party deck; he has to call her back to pay. She rolls her eyes at herself but recovers and bounds through the club back outside. I lag behind and scan the club again just for kicks; when I notice Deep Fuzz is setting up on stage. I remembered what Chloe said about JB being a big fan and as I crest the party deck I sit next to and lean into Chloe to let her know. I also lock eyes with Barron again, who begins to make his way over.

“Hello again.” He says sitting beside me on the bench.

“Hey! Sorry, I had to get a drink first.” I laugh.

“No worries, hear back from Molly?”

I laugh again; this kid’s got it bad, “No, she’s a busy girl though.”

He shakes his head at the embarrassment, “Oh, yeah, of course. I would love to go to one of her shows.”

I’m about to tell Barron about Molly’s last show when Chloe sits up from her cross-legged relaxed position, cigarette in hand, “JB!” She hollers but he can’t hear her or he is ignoring her, I can’t decide which, but when she calls out to him again it’s elongated, “Jaaaay Beeee!” That gets his attention and he shakes the hand of the guy he’s talking to before making his way over to Chloe, “Baby! Deep Fuzz is setting up!”

JB is in a relaxed mood, clearly they have been here for a while, he looks over to me, “Hey Babet.” I nod and smile, “Okay Clo; it takes at least an hour to set up and get sound right, we’re good.”

“Well, I just don’t want you to miss them.” Her speech is much more slurred.

“The only thing at this point would keep me from seeing them is if you pass out before they even go on. Take it easy baby, how many have you had anyway?”

As if the Gods were high above watching this conversation and decided to throw a comical wrench in Chloe’s chain, the bartender arrives on the deck with twelve shots of black liquid for, “Chloe!” The look on JB’s face is priceless as she holds up her hand; the bartender sets the tray on the bench seat beside her. JB looks from the tray to Chloe who is purposely paying him no mind and says nothing as she saunters around the deck passing out shots.

Barron and I watch Chloe in al her glory, she is such an upbeat person. Barron turns to me, “So Molly’s next show? Do you know when it is?”

“No, she had one six months back, you know before the southern heat kicked in full force. She sold every piece and donated all proceeds to charity, specifically Katrina relief.” I explain.

“Yes, I think that is why I admire her so much, she has such a big heart. Only natives of our part of the country can truly understand what we went through during that storm.”

“I agree, she’s a classy lady.” I wink at Barron.

“I’d really like for you to meet my band, as I predicted they don’t believe I met someone who knows Molly DuBois.”

“Sure.”

“Well, I saw you met Raphi, he’s our bass player…” I don’t let him finish.

“Do you know Chloe?” I ask.

Chloe returns with five shots. I take one, and I’m about to drop the other when I decide to offer it to Barron, who declines, “Yeah, I met her through Raphi.”

The second shot goes down my gullet. I blow out the toxic air and get a chill all over my body from it. Chloe takes one as does JB, they share the last one. Before long Deep Fuzz is warming up for sound check. The Warren’s and their entourage pile into the club as I follow Barron inside. Luckily he doesn’t search long for his friends who I meet and confess to being acquainted with Molly, Barron even asks me to show the band the picture of us gals. I oblige and courteously bow out before meeting back with Chloe and JB.

The band opens with “Vanishing Point” and the sound rocks. The tick tock of the guitar alarms you to a grind which is a Deep Fuzz trademark. Girls dance to the infectious rhythm of while guys head bang or jump around; whatever they consider dancing. “Beer”, starts slow and melodic but builds up to what is something musically spectacular. The rooted bassline and guitar distortion switches to what feels like a dream sequence. The drums trance until picking you up to drop you into a crunchy rabbithole. “Lowery” rounds out Deep Fuzz’s set. JB and Chloe go over to Dubs Williams as he is disassembling equipment to chat up the approachable rock-star. His band mates Mick and Lane don’t seem too pleased that the Warrens are monopolizing the front man’s limited time. But Dubs is gracious. I sit and people watch while I nurse a Blue Moon and orange slice; occasionally getting harassed by the male demographic and again by Raphael. I easily scare him away by my two kids and emotional baggage; death of my husband is a game killer. I smile when he sulks away defeated.

Chloe and JB walk over to where I’m seated, “Hey Babet!” Chloe is in such a good mood.

“Hi Chloe!” I say back at her in the same shrill.

JB leans over to kiss Chloe’s head before saying, “Be right back.” She and I watch as he approaches the bar again and orders six shots.

“Uh oh!” Chloe says. I smile at her drunken silliness.

JB sets the small tray of shots on the table and places two in front of me and two in front of Chloe, he takes the last two off the tray, “Now that the Fuzz is done, Chloe can drink as much as she likes.”

I hold up my shot glass to instigate cheers, our glasses clink together and down the liquid goes. Chloe makes an awful face and I swear she is going to toss her cookies, but she doesn’t. In fact once she recovers she boasts, “Not too much though, I’m trying to get laid tonight!” She throws the second shot down and smiles. I follow suit as does JB who seductively winks at his wife.

http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...


Babet's Epiphany


Augusta Fern

See who I picture when I write my books about the folks surrounding Babet Beauregard on Pinterest.com

http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...