Koopah

The “Godmother,” Anne Bouchette, sat at her large desk, staring at me as I came in. Robert was seated behind her, against the wall, almost in shadow. He just gave me a short glance, then his eyes shifted, no doubt, to Miranda. I took her hand and pulled her close to my side. Bouchette said something in French, then Robert stood and approached us. I thought, Oh God, she wants to talk to me alone. Robert stopped in front of us, looked Miranda up and down, then said to me, “She is a looker. I will take good care of her.” Then he smiled and took her other hand, saying, “Come, ma belle.”



I kept a firm hold of her hand, then Bouchette said, “Let him take her. It is all right.”



“Take her” being the operative phrase. Robert and I had a small stare-down, then I whispered to Miranda, very firm, “No koopah.”



She nodded, I let go, and the two left. When the door closed, I turned to Bouchette. She smiled, stood up, and came around the desk with her arms out, saying, “Maman missed you. You had us so worried.”



I gave in, and hugged her. With a peck on her cheeks, I said, “I haven’t been able to send out any messages. Paparazzi and all.”



She gave a knowing smile and motioned to the door, saying, “I’m sure you have been busy with other things.”



I looked away, grinning some, embarrassed, and said, “Ma, come on.”



“Your brother is right. She is beautiful.”



“Half-brother, Ma. With the way he is with girls, I’m ashamed we have the same DNA.”



“He is still family. And don’t fret. He knows she is your woman, so there is a slight chance he will not touch her.”



I thought, Slight being about five to ten percent, but kept my mouth shut. “Yes, mother. Should we get to the heart of this meeting?”



She shrugged and said, “If you would like.” She then went from being my mother to the boss, sitting back down at her desk and giving me a stern look. She then said, “What happened to the drugs?”



“They might’ve went down with the ship. I barely remember what happened. Just people panicking and screaming.” I looked at a paperweight, just to concetrate on something while I thought back. Screaming, panic, passengers running for lifeboats, and... a smell. “I think something exploded. Or an oven fire got out of control. I don’t know.” I looked back at her, still giving that stern look, and said, “Honest. That’s all I remember.”



She went back to being mother as she nodded and said in French, “All right, honey.” She stood again and went to the door, saying, “I will think on this for a while, and call you when I am ready to talk again.” She held out a new cell phone. I put it in my pocket as she continued, “Our number is in there. Only for receiving. If you wish to call, there is a payphone at this address.” She then offered a folded slip of paper, which went with the phone. She said, “Use that phone and no other.” Then she gave a big smile and hugged me again, saying in French, “My child, I’ve missed you.” She kissed me on both cheeks and let me leave.