“A Good Place To Fall In Love”

Editors Note: . This is but a teaser for ‘Furman LeBeq’. An introduction to the 2 lead characters in a murder mystery in the light noir style. New Orleans, 2019.

Furry’s eyes fluttered open as daybreak filtered through the hurricane shutters. Oblique fragments shifted across curves the color of warm honey.

Chantel Laveau was not a morning person. She tucked the pillow snug against her bosom and rolled to her left side.

Furry smiled, shifted his feet to the floor and pulled on his boxers. He was tempted to turn on the hallway overhead so he could watch the rerun.

He padded to the kitchen and started a pot of water, coffee with chicory, in the 6 cup French press. 9 months in NOLA and it was already a tradition. Furman made it a point to listen to wise women. Especially one with Botticelli curves and a Mona Lisa smile.

Never ignore culture Mr LeBeq.

He pulled a short knife from the drawer and sliced and sectioned 2 grapefruit. There was a half loaf of La Boulangerie french on top of the refrigerator. He gave it a squeeze, poked his finger in the open end and grinned.

“It’ll be all right toasted but it’s going to smell like warm pussy.”

“Who you talking to Fuzzy Face?”

Chantel, standing in the kitchen pass, wearing a sheet and a grin.

“What are you doing up? It’s not even 6:00 yet.”

“I caught a chill. Some fool pulled the sheets down over my bottom. I swear by Great Grandma’s grave, men are a product of arrested development. You’re all stuck on 14. How in the hell do they run the show.”

“It’s a matter of equipment.”

Chantel dropped her chin to her ample chest and shot him the look. She unloosed the sheet and let it drift to the floor. Furry choked back a mouthful of savory French.

Chantel started back down the hall, turning toward Furry when she reached the bedroom door.

“Come on back to bed, mon chere. We’ll make a wet spot.”

“You gave me the look. That’s the first time I was a witness.”

“Black woman’s curse, ‘Talk to the hand’, a defense against the shit in life. I swore I’d never let it define me and I was lucky enough that I was not obliged. But it’s in all of us. It was how our mothers survived. It’s not my MO.

You can call me Sugar.

But you, you had it coming.”

“It’s cultural readjustment. I expected Alabama accents and docile colored folk, keeping their place.”

Chantel grinned, “docile colored folk?”

“I grew up around Acadians. 40 miles north of Montreal. Not a black face in miles.”

“Your loss.”

“J’ai vu la lumière.For 9 moths I ‘ve been trying to check the pulse of this town. It beats in 4/4 time. You walk around in awe of the architecture, the oaks, Spanish Moss, cracked pavement, the food, the smell in the air. You know you’re near water. You smell jasmine, peat moss, salt air, and magnolia. An olfactory seduction that creeps up on you like good perfume.

And more colors than Crayola.

You start picking up on the people. They take care of each other. Buddy meets the UPS driver at the gate and then delivers to your door. He looks after his neighbors.

I don’t think it’s any one thing other then culture and that’s a gumbo. Throw it all in the pot and season it just right.”

Furman ran his fingertips around her hip and drew her back against him.

“Don’t overthink it Furman. You break it down like a detective. Writer’s, poets and musicians have been trying to define this city for decades. There are times it’s best to just go with emotion. Smile, move your hips, fall in love.”

“Fall in love?”

“Yes, It’s a good place to fall in love. Isn’t that what it’s really all about?”

Chantel rolled to her back and reached up to grasp the brass headboard.

“Mr LeBeq, I could wrap myself around you all day and into the night, but It’s 8:30 and i have to be at my desk in 30 minutes. You’re going to have to reheat that coffee.”

‘You won’t have time for a shower.”

“Pas de probleme. I’m the only straight woman in the office. They’ll love it.”

“I thought you were Bi.”

“Not since I met you.”

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