*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned.

*****

Joi Marchot sat on the bench and sobbed. Her cheek still stung where Ricky had slapped her. She hated when he did drugs; he always got so demanding, so aggressive.

Ricky had agreed that they'd go see Tomorrowland at the Flowers Movie Theater, then to Yum Yum Ice Cream for a snack afterward. He'd been unenthusiastic about the date and had even muttered he expected some pussy for having to go see such a pussy movie.

"Ricky! It's not!" Joi had protested.

Ricky picked Joi up at her mother and step-father's house and had sneered that she'd brought a sweater with her.

"What?" she said. "It gets all cold in there, 'bout freeze to death."

"We ain't going see that stupid shit; Matt seen it, said it sucks. S. U. X," Ricky snapped.

"What? Ricky! I want, you said..." Joi spluttered.

"Fuck that; we going Manny's and bowling," Ricky said, scratching at his face.

He pulled up to the Mexican restaurant, despite Joi's protests. She reminded him; they'd eaten at Manny's two days ago, had been bowling two days ago. And he had agreed, he'd promised that he'd take her to see Tomorrowland.

A slap to her pretty face silenced her protests. He gave her a second slap for crying and got out of his car.

A few patrons of the restaurant walked past as Joi sat on the bench outside of the restaurant. Most looked away, embarrassed. Some pretended they did not see her.

"Hey; you all right?" a soft voice asked.

Joi looked up into Brian Louviere's soft brown eyes. He held out a handkerchief.

"No," Joi whimpered, taking his handkerchief.

She told him the story; she'd wanted to see a movie, her boyfriend had agreed they'd see a movie, then at the last minute, changed his mind. When she'd protested, he'd slapped her and marched into the restaurant, leaving her outside to 'get over it, stupid bitch.'

Brian listened, sucking on the peppermint Manny's had supplied. He dug his cell phone out of his shirt pocket and offered it to her.

"Need call your daddy?" he asked.

Brent Arcenaux, her step-father, had let his dislike of Richard 'Ricky' Hebert be known. Catherine, Joi's mother also voiced her low opinion of Ricky.

"No," Joi whispered, shaking her head. "Could you, you just take me on home?"

"Well, I uh, I yeah, but know what? I ain't seen that movie neither," Brian offered.

He did not tell the attractive eighteen year old girl that his bowling bag was sitting right behind his seat in his truck. He did not tell the girl that he'd just eaten at Manny's, and had planned to go next door to the Bowl-A-Rama, bowl a few games. As she'd poured out her tale of woe, the twenty six year old had admired the short denim cutoffs, the pronounced camel toe the shorts presented, her small round face and large eyes, with her one heavy eyebrow, button nose and pouting lips. He'd admired her somewhat chubby body, long brown hair, and nice cleavage.

"Yeah?" Joi asked, holding his handkerchief out to him. "You uh, man! Don't even know you!"

"Brian Louviere," Brian said.

"And I'm Joi Marchot me," she said.

"Marchot? You any relation Dudley Marchot? Work with a Dudley; he out of Crowley," Brian asked as they walked toward his 2010 F150 pickup truck.

"Crowley? Don't think so; have to ask my momma," Joi said and climbed up into the cab of the truck.

As she climbed up, a goodly portion of her left buttock slid out the bottom of her shorts. Brian smiled to himself as he closed the passenger door.

Just as Brian and Joi pulled out onto Highway 52, Ricky swaggered outside to ask Joi if she'd finished with her little pity party. He looked around, even walked over to his car and looked around again.

"Fine, fucking cunt!" he screamed out loud. "Fine! Be that way!"

"Stupid fucking whore, like I need this shit, huh?" Ricky snarled as he marched back to the restaurant.

At the Flower's movie theater, Brian paid for two tickets, then guided the girl over to the concession stand.

"Giant, you like butter? Giant buttered popcorn, and uh, box of them Charleston Chews, and just a water; Joi what you like?"

"Water; I ain't never had them what they called? Them chews?" Joi asked.

Two waters," Brian agreed and paid the small fortune the few items cost.

They had just sat down when the theater darkened. Then the intolerable volume of the trailers started.

"Okay, take a couple of these," Brian suggested, holding out the box of Charleston Chews. "Then you take you a big old handful of popcorn and..."

Joi did as he suggested. She looked at him, eyes wide as she tasted the sweet, the salty, the buttery flavors all melting together in her mouth.

"Man! That good!" she enthused.

"Why I got a Giant," Brian muttered as Joi immediately stuffed more of the combination into her mouth.

By the movie's end, Joi had her head on Brian's shoulder, his right arm in her two arms. She'd also draped her sweater over her stubby legs.

"Man! It always so cold in here," she complained as the credits rolled.

"Uh huh," Brian agreed. "Guess they wanting us cuddle up, huh?"

"You want cuddle up?" she asked, a little smile in her voice.

Brian was handsome, with thick brown hair, a strong, tanned face and deep brown eyes. He had thick arms and broad chest, made muscular by nine years of working off-shore.

He wasn't as handsome as Ricky, did not have Ricky's long blond hair and ice blue eyes. Brian was five feet, seven inches tall and Ricky was six feet, two inches, a full thirteen inches taller than Joi.

But Brian had sat quietly through the movie, had not complained non-stop about having to see the movie. Brian had let her eat the lion's share of the popcorn, the candy.

Before Brian could agree that he did want to cuddle up, the lights went on.

"Now, what's this Yum Yum place; ain't never ate there," Brian admitted.

"It right up there," Joi pointed in the general direction of the small restaurant. "They got hamburgers, um, hot dogs, ice cream."

He let her choose where they would sit. He let her order what she wanted. He did not offer any opinion on her large hot fudge sundae. He did not point out to her that her ass was already too big, her thighs already too fat for a large hot fudge sundae.

"Thank you; that was a, I liked our first date," Joi said as they left the small restaurant.

"Oh yeah?" Brian asked.

"Yeah," she enthused, taking his hand in hers.

"So, I uh, any idea what we should do for our second date?" Brian asked as he unlocked the doors of his truck.

"Ooh! You like go-carting?" she asked, brown eyes hopeful.

"I guess," he said, comically feigning reluctance.

"Well, you ain't got to; you can just sit there and watch me," Joi laughed.

She gave him directions to her house and agreed they'd see each other the next afternoon. Then she gave him a soft kiss on his lips.

"Thanks, Brian," she said softly.

"Uh huh," Brian agreed and got out of the truck.

He helped her down and walked her to the front door. Then she gave him another kiss before disappearing into the house.

"Ricky come by looking for you; asked him what happened, boy ain't had nothing say," Brent snapped when Joi entered the house.

"Asked him take me see Tomorrowland then he don't want to," Joi said, rankling at being questioned by her step-father. "Then Brian come up and went with him."

"Brian? Who this Brian? I know him?" Brent demanded.

"No; just met him," Joi answered.

"Want meet him going be seeing him again," Brent demanded.

Joi didn't answer, just stomped to her room. A moment later, Catherine knocked at the door, then entered her daughter's bedroom.

"Who this Brian is?" she demanded.

Joi recounted the story of Ricky's behavior, leaving out the physical abuse. Her mother's face darkened in anger at her daughter's foolhardy behavior.

"Don't even know this boy? Just get up in his car and run off?" she shrilled. "Joi, you lost your mind yeah!"

"Well, he coming by tomorrow; can see him then," Joi shrilled in reply.

Joi's cell phone lit up with numerous text messages and numerous missed calls, all from Ricky. Joi deleted them all without responding to any of them. Then she readied for bed, which was simply unsnapping the shorts and dropping them to the floor, and wiggling out of her bra without removing her tank top.

Brian did come to the Arcenaux house the next afternoon. He got Brent's approval almost immediately; Brian worked off-shore, had a steady job, had a reliable truck.

"Even if it ain't a Chevy," Brent good-naturedly joked.

"Yeah, know what you mean," Brian smiled. "Was looking get me this really ugly green Chevy, but salesman said just sold the last one. Oh! But your truck look good yeah."

Catherine was a little reserved; Brian was eight years older than Joi. But like Brent, she was relieved that Brian had a job, a truck, and a house of his own.

"Yeah, what I been doing? Every month? Put an extra three hundred with the payment," Brian said. "And last time they dropped the interest? Refinanced, paid off the first loan and dropped the note by another twenty thousand."

"So, when you..." Brent asked, trying to do the math in his head.

"Another four, five years? House be all paid up," Brian explained.

"Man, that so interesting can barely stay awake," Joi said sarcastically.

"So when she got be back home?" Brian politely asked Brent.

"I don't know; I mean, she going nine thirty Mass so, no later than twelve thirty, huh?" Catherine answered.

"Yes ma'am," Brian said.

"Brian, you go to church?" Brent asked.

"St. Thomas right around the corner from my house," Brian said.

Ricky sent Joi another three or four text messages as Brian drove to Pinoak, Louisiana, to the go-cart tracks. Brian did look over after the third time her purse chimed.

"My ex-boyfriend," Joi explained.

"Yeah? He know he your ex-boyfriend?" Brian asked.

Joi thought about that question for a moment. Then she shrugged.

Joi might enjoy going to the go-cart tracks, but she wasn't very good at driving the go-carts. She was also pretty bad at the video arcade games inside the track's concession stand.

From the track, they went to Brick's Pizzeria and had a large Supreme, hold the mushrooms. Brian had not objected, had not told Joi she could pick the damned mushrooms off of her slices.

Ten minutes after Joi and Brian got their pizza, Matt and Allison, Derwood 'Woody' and Melissa entered the restaurant. Woody and Matt both immediately sent Ricky text messages, telling him that his girlfriend was out on a date with another guy.

"Good; he's an ass hole," Melissa said as she looked over at Joi and Brian.

"Yeah, bitch? He's my best friend, huh?" Woody snarled.

"Yeah? Well, your best friend's an ass hole," Melissa snapped.

"And how you can say he's your best friend, huh? I mean, shit, he done tried fuck Melissa, huh?" Alison snapped.

"Did not," Woody said. "Said she's one come up to him."

"And you believed that shit?" Melissa screeched.

Ricky's blood boiled when he received the text messages from Matt and Woody. He quickly tried to put the new tires onto his Camaro, cursing how slow the jack went up and down. He cursed how slowly each lug nut went on. Then he chirped his brand new tires as he sped away from his house.

"Dude, just missed them," Matt said when Ricky barreled into Brick's Pizzeria.

"Well, what they was driving?" Ricky demanded.

"Looked like a Prius," Allison lied.

"White. No, no, light blue," Melissa agreed, smirking at her boyfriend's best friend.

"Huh?" Woody said. "No, no, wasn't it some kind of truck they got into?"

"Huh? No, was one of them Prius jobbies," Allison affirmed. "Was parked next to the truck."

So Ricky barged out of the restaurant again. He left a strip of rubber as he drove away, looking around for a white, or light blue Toyota Prius. He almost rear ended a 2010 charcoal gray F150 pickup truck. Then, when the truck did not drive fast enough away from the traffic light, Ricky whipped the car around and left the truck behind.

"That, oh my God, that is!" Joi said as Brian cursed the impatient driver.

"What? Who?" Brian asked.

"My boyfriend," Joi said, shrinking down in her seat, even though Rickey was nearly a mile away.

"Hey, look, you still hung up on him," Brian sighed. "Let me just take you on home, huh?"

"No," Joi almost shrilled.

She put her hand on his arm. He looked over at her.

"Really, I'm not. I mean, you seen it, huh? Hits me?" Joi said.

Brian took Joi to his home. She admired the neatly manicured lawn, the flowers along the walkway from sidewalk to front door, the freshly painted trim.

The screen door from carport to house was not falling off the hinges. The screen itself was not torn, sagging. The sturdy door was painted a gloss white and the knob did not jiggle loosely in Brian's hand when he unlocked it.

The kitchen was small, clean. It smelled of disinfectant, not last night's supper, or this morning's burned bacon and toast.

The dining room was small, orderly. Joi could smell that Brian, or perhaps a housecleaner used lemon scented polish on the heavy wooden furniture.

The living room was also small, with simple furnishings. A couch, a matching recliner, an end table between couch and recliner and matching coffee table all faced a wall mounted television.

"Need to tinkle," Joi suddenly declared.

Brian walked with her down a hallway, and flipped on a light switch. Just like the rest of the house, the bathroom was small, clean. The sink, commode, and tub were a pale yellow. The walls were painted a glossy goldenrod yellow. The beige rub in front of the commode matched the beige rug in front of the tub. The shower curtain was a chocolate brown, which seemed to just tie everything together.

While in the bathroom, Joi retrieved her cell phone and sent Ricky a text. She did not read his several demanding and threatening text messages. She simply told him it was over; she'd had enough of his abuse and him taking her for granted.

"Aw no, bitch, it ain't over 'til I fucking say it over," Ricky snarled at his phone.

Brian had two glasses of iced tea sitting on the small coffee table when Joi walked into the living room. Nervously, she used her hand to brush back her long brown hair. He stood up and gestured toward his couch.

"I uh, this is some of that sun tea," Brian said. I just put a jar in the kitchen window and it don't even take a whole day."

"My momma does that," Joi agreed.

"Yeah, seen her jars on the table," Brian said.

They sipped their iced tea in silence. Then Brian turned to say something at the same time that Joi turned to say something.

And instead, they began to kiss. At first it was just lips mashing against lips. Then Brian's hand touched Joi's breast through the layer of tank top and bra and she moaned her approval. His tongue softly licked her lips and she opened her mouth. Gently, he stroked her left breast while sucking on her tongue.

His right hand rested on her bare thigh, gently caressing the smooth, soft flesh. Just like the rest of her, her thigh was a little on the chubby side. She was not fat, just wore a few extra pounds.

Ricky knew of Joi's insecurities, knew she considered herself fat. Ricky exploited those fears, those concerns; he delighted in telling Joi that he could find a thinner, more attractive girlfriend.

These declarations were usually followed with a demand for oral sex. Or pussy.

"Mm," Joi moaned again as Brian's thumb sought out her hard nipple.

"Mm," she moaned as Brian's other hand left her plump thigh and touched her right cheek softly.

Brian's left hand traveled from Joi's cheek to her shoulder, from her shoulder to her arm.

Joi felt her heart hammering in her chest. She looked into Brian's warm brown eyes, then made a decision.

Joi pulled back, then pulled her top off. A moment later, her bra fluttered off, exposing her round breasts and small, hard nipples to Brian's appreciative eyes.

Removing her shorts revealed that she had shaved her thick muff of dark brown to just a thin racing stripe that covered her slit. Her plump thighs spread apart, giving Brian a glimpse of the pink inner lips. He saw that they were wet, slick with her excitement.

He stripped out of his clothes. Joi admired Brian's muscled, tanned chest, liked the wisps of dark chest hair. Her eyes traveled down to his erect cock. His cock was not as long as Ricky's cock, but, since Brian was shorter than Ricky, his cock did appear slightly larger than Ricky's cock. The girth was certainly larger.

They continued kissing, touching one another. Then Brian's hand urged Joi's thighs apart. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers travelled up and down her wet slit. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers found her clitoris.

"Bed's a lot better than this couch," Brian suggested.

His bedroom was a small room, masculine in appearance. Joi did notice that his walls were bare, other than the sconce lighting on either side of the queen sized bed.

Brian lay her on her right side, then crawled onto the bed and stuffed his feet under a stack of pillows. He urged her left leg up, forming an arch. Then he put his mouth to her wet pussy.

"Mmph!" Joi exclaimed as his mouth covered her plump pubic mound, his tongue pushed into her slit.

He used his fingers to open her for his tongue. He lapped at her excitement, tasting her heavy musky taste. He used his fingers to thrust in and out of her pussy while his tongue teased, toyed with her thick pussy lips.

"Mmph!" Joi moaned again and gripped his throbbing cock in her small hand.

She sank her mouth around the head of his fat cock and Brian jerked.

"Teeth, Baby, watch them teeth," he groaned in a strangled voice.

Joi wrapped her lips over her teeth and continued to suck his cock. Her tongue licked around the sensitive head of his cock. She could taste his excitement oozing from the tip of his cock.

"Teeth, Joi," Brian said again, this time a little more forcefully.

He resumed sucking and teasing her pussy, fingers sliding in and out. Joi tensed, orgasm on the brink.

Brian almost lost his erection when her teeth again scraped his cock. He tried to ignore the pain in his cock and concentrated on bringing her off.

"Aieeh!" Joi screamed out and sprayed Brian's face with her orgasm.

Brian pulled his hips away from her, freeing his cock from her tight grip. He continued to toy with her pussy as she grunted in pleasure. Then he gently pushed her onto her back.

"Man! That was..." Joi finally gasped out.

"Uh huh," Brian agreed as he rolled a condom onto his cock.

"Oh yeah," Joi wheezed as Brian slid his cock into her pussy.

Brian thrust into her for a moment. He then hefted her thighs up, pulled them to wrap around his waist. Joi looked at him, puzzled.

Brian thrust in and out of Joi a few more times. Joi lay there, enjoying his cock sliding in and out of her. She enjoyed the friction of his cock sliding in and out of her.

Brian was growing frustrated. The grunts and sighs and groans let him know that Joi was enjoying their intimacy, enjoying the contact. But she wasn't moving.

"Wrap them legs around me," he urged.

Joi did and smiled up at him. He kissed her and she returned his kiss.

"Now, wrap them arms around me," Brian continued.

Joi did and hugged him tightly.

"That's what I'm talking 'bout," Brian encouraged.

But now, she clung to him so tightly, he had trouble moving his cock in and out of her. He thrust a few times, fighting down the irritation.

"Ever get on top?" he finally asked the girl.

She shook her head, pretty face wrinkled in confusion. Brian broke free of her grasp, pulled his cock out of her, and rolled onto his back.
Joi straddled him and awkwardly thrust a few times. Brian toyed with her hanging breasts, pinching the small nipples. He kissed her, then playfully slapped her ass.

(He did it lightly, playfully. But honestly, Brian was slapping Joi's ass, trying to get her to move, urging her to start fucking.)

Even with her on top, Brian had to do most of the work, thrusting his hips upward to meet her short, clumsy strokes.

"God damn! Blow up doll would be better," Brian thought.

Obviously, though, Joi did enjoy their coupling. After he'd grunted and filled his condom, she wanted to know how long it would take him to be ready to do it again.

The second time, they did it doggy style. This position was more mutually satisfying for the two of them. Brian liked it because he could play with her swinging breasts, play with her clitoris, even lightly slap her full buttocks.

"Aieeh!" Joi suddenly cried out and sprayed Brian's crotch with her orgasm.

"Damn yes," Brian grunted and filled another condom.

He drove Joi home after they'd grilled on his back deck, after they'd kissed a few moments. With a final kiss at her door, Brian was actually relieved to leave her. He also felt ashamed of feeling relieved; they'd just had sex, made love. He reasoned, he should feel a closeness to the girl.

Casa Ole Mexican Restaurant was open on Sunday; Brian agreed to meet Joi and Catherine and Brent for Sunday dinner. Joi smiled up at Brian happily, clutching possessively onto him. Brian was polite, even friendly.

When Brent and Catherine let their opinion of Ricky Hebert be known, Brian politely asserted that he did not know Ricky. Therefore, he had no opinion on the subject. He didn't know anything about Calculus either, therefore, had no opinion on the subject.

"Yeah, but at least Calculus can be used for something," Brent said.

"And so can Ricky," Brian said. "Crab bait?"

Brent and Catherine laughed; Joi playfully slapped Brian's arm. There was a mild argument over who should pay for their dinner. Brian graciously let Brent win and thanked them for dinner.

Wednesday night, Brian made Joi pout when he insisted on cutting their date short; he had to be on the boat at five the following morning. He also reminded her, he would be working and would not have time to text, or to chat. He would call her when he returned to dry land.

"Yeah, but that a whole fourteen days now," Joi whined.

"No it ain't," Brian smiled. "It's just two weeks."

"Man! Brian, think I'm stupid?" Joi groused, slapping his arm. "Fourteen days, two weeks same thing."

By the time Brian did return to DeGarde, he had determined he would break it off with Joi. She was attractive, was sweet, and did seem to be attracted to him. But she also seemed to be hung up on her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend; Joi talked about Ricky Hebert all the time. And her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend was constantly calling her, texting her.

There was an eight year age difference as well. Brian did not care for the television shows Joi 'just couldn't live without.' He certainly did not care for her taste, or lack of taste in music. Joi also had never read a book just for the sheer enjoyment of reading a book, the pleasure of losing oneself in an author's vivid description, an author's landscape. Joi had never heard of most of the books on Brian's bookshelves.

One more thing that made Brian in favor of breaking things off with Joi Marchot; she did not know how to fuck. She did not know how to suck cock. She had the perfect ass for anal sex, but adamantly refused Brian access to her ass.

The boat ride took a long time, chugging from rig to land. There was a nine car pileup on I-10 just past Lafayette, Louisiana and it took almost two hours to negotiate his way to the DeGarde exit.

The entire time, his cell phone kept chiming with 'U in yet?' text messages from Joi.

"Jesus, H. Christ, Joi, huh?" Brian yelled at the screen of his phone.

She must have been watching his house. No sooner had Brian dumped his laundry onto the floor of his utility room, Joi was knocking on his front door.

"Hey!" Joi happily greeted Brian, kissing him.

She was wearing a bikini top and khaki shorts and her customary cheap flip flops on her feet. Her chubby little belly was on display, as were her stubby legs. And when she breezed past him, her chunky ass cheeks peeked out at him.

Brian forgot about breaking things off with Joi as she dropped bikini top and shorts to the floor of his living room and sauntered, nude, toward his bedroom.

Joi was already kneeling on his bed, ass stuck out. Brian quickly dropped his clothes to the floor, got up into the bed and sank his hard cock into her wet pussy in one long thrust. They both groaned happily.

Brian grabbed her hanging breasts and tweaked and pinched her nipples. She hissed her approval as he used her breasts as reins, pulling her back to meet his forward thrusts.

"Shit! Condom," Brian suddenly remembered.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Joi groaned. "Just pull out before you going shoot, okay?"

He began to hammer her hard and she grunted approval. When he reached down and began toying with her clitoris, she stiffened, then screamed in orgasm.

"Shit, shit, shit," Brian grunted and pulled his spurting cock from her slick pussy.

He blasted his semen onto her back, into her mane of brown hair, onto her cute buttocks.

"Brian! In my hair?" Joi yelled.

"Shower right there," Brian pointed.

"Yeah, but I don't like your shampoo no," Joi complained.

"Then you can just wait 'til you get home," Brian suggested.

"Uh huh, and what my mom going think, huh?" Joi snapped.

"Why I like condoms. Ain't got all this mess," Brian grumbled as Joi stomped into his bathroom.

By Tuesday, the rift was undeniable. By Wednesday night, Joi tearfully agreed that she and Brian needed to break up.

"Hey, I mean, really? All I ever been was a rebound huh?" Brian softly said, giving her a second handkerchief to wipe her tear streaked face.

"That ain't true," she sobbed, clinging onto him.

"Man, Joi, huh? Yeah it is," Brian said.

He kissed her one more time. Then he smiled tightly.

"But you a beautiful girl; you going find you someone love you and you going love them," he gently said.

The next morning, Brian watched several rain clouds shining a silvery black in the dawning sun. Just as they reached the platform, the rain pelted down.

The rain continued for three long days and nights. Often, as he stood, rain pelting him, Brian thought about Joi, hoped she would be all right.

Again, when he boarded the boat that would take him to the Industrial Canal, grayish black clouds threatened. And just as he reached his truck, more rain fell.

"Hi," a simple text message popped up.

"Hi," he sent back.

"Miss you," Joi texted.

"Miss you too," Brian agreed.

"Can I come over?" Joi texted.

"Please don't," Brian replied.

Joi sent a few more messages. Brian ignored them as he slowly drove east through the heavy downpour.

The rain was coming down in sheets; he almost missed his exit. With a sigh, he was grateful to finally back into his driveway, back his truck underneath his carport.

Joi continued with her barrage of text messages. Brian ignored some, replied to some, but refused her access to his home.

The rain let up and he went to Manny's Mexican Restaurant, enjoyed their three enchilada platter. Then he hefted his bowling bag and went to the Bowl-A-Rama.

"Louviere, huh? See that? See that sign right there?" Joe Trahan taunted when Brian joined him and Paul Morris at Lane 8.

"Huh? Oh, you must mean that sign that says scoring machines out of order," Brian taunted. "Because, Mr. Average is one forty three, ain't no way you bowled a three hundred."

"Read it, baby, read it," Joe said. "Joseph A. Trahan, three hundred points, April twenty second, two thousand fifteen."

"The day the scoring machines were all broke," Brian squinted as if he was reading the fine print on the banner.

Joe may have bowled a perfect game a few months earlier, but Brian and Paul easily trounced him in three games.

They celebrated their wins, drowned their sorrows over their losses over a few St. Elizabeth long necks in the bowling alley's small bar. Paul, Joe and Brian watched a group of teenaged girls walk by, giggling and squealing.

"Didn't look like that when we was in school, Joe said.

"Mm hmm," Brian agreed.

"Ones that did? Never looked twice at us," Paul agreed.

"What's this 'us' shit?" Joe bragged.

Joi's text messages dropped off to one or two a day. By Wednesday night, it had been two days since her last text.

"Need to talk," Brian read eight weeks later.

It had been a grueling two week shift. He had a new supervisor and the supervisor had a Napoleon complex. Rather than letting his crew do their job, the man insisted that they were doing it wrong and slowed their production down as he insisted they do things his way.

Brian wearily got into his truck, looked at his screen and thought of deleting, ignoring the message. It had been a few weeks since her last message, though. So he called her.

"I, uh, we need talk yeah," Joi said flatly when she heard Brian's voice.

He agreed to meet with her at Sweet Peas, a small soul food restaurant in DeGarde, Louisiana. He went home, did a few loads of laundry, took a nap, and almost overslept. So he was a few minutes late getting to the restaurant.

Brian's eyebrows did rise slightly at the sight of Brent and Catherine sitting at a small table with Joi.

"Hey," he said, approaching the table.

"I'm pregnant," Joi said, before Brian even sat down.

Brian remembered that afternoon when he'd not used a condom. He had been balls deep in her pussy when he began to shoot. He had gripped the base of his cock as he pulled out, but his semen was already jetting out, splattering onto her back, into her hair, onto her buttocks.

He sat heavily at the table.

"Ordered you a sweet tea," was Brent's only comment.

"I ain't getting me no abortion," Joi declared.

"Baby's going need two parents," Catherine said tightly. "Even good babies? They needing two parents."

"You, you're sure..." Brian started.

"Done missed two periods," Joi snapped. "I ain't stupid no."

Brian wisely shut his mouth and nodded his thanks when a large black woman put a tall glass of iced tea down in front of him.

He had meant to ask Joi if she was sure he was the father. He had no idea if she'd been sleeping around while he'd been off-shore. For all he knew, she could have been pregnant when he picked her up outside of Manny's that first night.

But with her mother and her step-father sitting at the same table, it would have been a foolish, and cruel thing to ask the worried looking girl.

"I'm sorry," Joi whispered, bottom lip trembling.

"Well, what's done is done," Brian said. "Need get you on my insurance quick like."

For the first time, Brent smiled and nodded his head. Catherine did relax slightly, but she did not smile.

"Now, when we finished eating here," Brent joked when four platters of stuffed pork chops, rice and gravy, and sweet peas were placed in front of them, "Need swing by the house, get her stuff."

"Get her..." Brian asked.

"Yeah, she moving in with you yeah," Brent joked.

The quartet did return to the Arcenaux home after their meal. They sat at the small kitchen table to talk, to plan.

Brian felt smothered, cramped as Joi clung to him. But he fought down his irritation; she was frightened, unsure. She was clinging to him for reassurance. He smiled at her and she did relax her grip. Slightly.

Since they were Catholic, they did agree that a Catholic wedding would have been ideal.

"But I know, ain't no way Father Benny going do no hurry-up wedding," Catherine said.

"And Father Doldbridthe ain't going do none either," Brian agreed.

"How 'bout this? Y'all go on, get married courthouse," Brent said.

"Brent!" Catherine snapped, angered.

"Shush! Listen, I'm fixing tell you," Brent said. "Then, when it your say five year anniversary? We give y'all a big old church wedding, renew them vows like."

"I like it," Brian agreed.

"Me too," Joi agreed.

"Now, how quick you can get some cardboard boxes" Brent asked, smiling. "Make that room my man cave."

"The living room's already your man cave," Catherine pointed out.

"Huh? Ain't got no lock, keep you out," Brent argued.

"And ain't got no lock, keep you in," Catherine agreed.

"Aw, big old TV, ice box put my beer? Yeah, go on, you lock that door, see if I care," Brent agreed.

"I really am sorry," Joi said when she and Brian stood outside, saying good night.

"Hey, I uh, if I remember correctly, took both of us, huh?" Brian softly said, holding her tightly.

Brian went off-shore for another two week shift, after getting his supervisor to sign off on switching him to seven on, seven off, and agreeing to give him two weeks off for a wedding and honeymoon.

Joi did invite Melissa and Allison to the small reception that would be held in a back room of Casa Ole Mexican Restaurant. Which meant that Matt and Woody were also invited to the wedding reception. Both young men laughed gleefully as they taunted Ricky Hebert about his girlfriend's upcoming wedding. Allison and Melissa also sneered at Ricky's displeasure.

Ricky vowed to crash the wedding at the courthouse. Brent advised the brash young man that he hoped Ricky would try; there would be several police officers in and around the courthouse.

Ricky also threatened to crash the reception, to do his best to disrupt the festivities.

"Please do, Ricky," Brent smiled. "Be my pleasure stomp the shit out of you."

"Aw, fuck you, old man," Ricky sneered.

"Yeah? Think you man enough? No? Didn't think so, punk ass bitch," Brent sneered.

Ricky did not show up at the small civil ceremony. Nor did he show up at the restaurant. Melissa and Allison and three of Joi's cousins squealed and whooped while Woody and Matt tried to see who could get drunker faster. They were also joined by a few of Joi's male cousins, a few of Brent's family as well.

Brian's mother and father were polite to Brent and Catherine. They were exceedingly polite to Joi. They also let Brian know just how disappointed they were in him, in his actions, in his choices in life, his choices in his profession, his choices in where to live.

"Your brother's already doing his residency at Oschner," his mother said.

"And damned sure isn't marrying some trailer trash teenager," his father agreed.

"And your sister's just opened her fourth, no, no fifth bakery in Rankin County," his mother said.

"Wow, I probably should just go ahead and commit suicide now, huh?" Brian suggested.

The couple honeymooned in the French Quarter. While they were in New Orleans, Brent and Catherine moved Joi's belongings to Brian's home. They also gave the couple a wedding gift of a baby bed and changing table. With much cursing, Brent managed to put the items together in the third bedroom.

"Hope they having plenty kids; good luck getting that thing out, huh?" Brent said after tightening the last bolt.

"I'm too young be a grandmother," Catherine wailed, looking at the baby furniture.

"And Joi too childish be a momma," Brent thought but just held his wife as she sobbed.

While on their honeymoon, Brian did talk with Joi. He did let her know part of the reason he'd been ready to call it quits was her lack of participation in the bedroom.

Despite her promises, despite his coaching, Joi did not improve much. Her blow jobs did improve slightly; she learned how to keep her teeth out of the way. But intercourse was still very one-sided.

Their wedding night, Joi did give Brian her anal cherry. Even though she had a grunting, thrashing orgasm from the vulgar act, she vowed that was their one and only time doing that.

"That hurts," she complained as she got to wobbly legs.

"What you talking 'bout? I ain't hurt one bit," Brian smirked.

Returning home, they settled into domestic coexistence. Brian did try to love his wife. He did try to show her understanding when her lack of maturity bubbled to the surface.

Brian found out that Joi did not drive. Brent had tried to teach her and she cried when he raised her voice at her. Catherine had tried but Joi said Catherine made her too nervous.

"Explains why you so bad at go-carts," Brian said, which earned him a squeal and slap from his wife.

"Sweetheart, you really need learn how drive," Brian urged. "Man! I'm off-shore, something happen with the baby, you going wait for your Momma come get you?"

"No; call the ambulance," Joi said.

"You out of diapers; going wait until Brent come bring you some?" Brian suggested.

"Be waiting a long time; Brent ain't bringing none," Brent said.

The A-1 School of driving sent a friendly young man out. He first drove Joi to the U.L.D. stadium parking lot and went over the basics with the agitated girl. He showed her that he had a steering wheel and gas and brakes on his side of the car; there was very little danger of anything happening.

Joi was bathed in sweat by the time she drove up to their home. But Brian hugged her and told her he was proud of her.

"All right, see y'all tomorrow," the young man said with a cheerful wave as he backed out of the driveway.

When Joi took and passed her diving test, Brian bought her a 2009 Toyota Camry. Brent bought a baby seat and proudly put it into the car.

Housekeeping was not a strong suit of Joi's. Catherine did admit she had spoiled the girl, finding it easier to clean the house rather than teach Joi how to do it. Cooking was also a difficult skill for Joi to grasp.

"Man; what you do know how do?" Brian exploded after Joi burned, ruined some chicken breasts.

Wailing, Joi locked herself in their bedroom. Feeling he was right, Brian refused to apologize. He opened the kitchen window and kitchen door, allowing the smoke to clear. Then he salvaged what he could of the chicken meat.

"Damn, how you do that, huh? Burn this side, that side still raw?" Brian yelled.

But he managed to make a chicken jambalaya out of the meat he could pick off the bones.

"Ain't hungry," Joi tearfully screamed through the door when Brian knocked and announced supper was ready.

"That fine; more for me," Brian yelled back.

Brian had heard people talk about the glow pregnant women seemed to have. As her pregnancy progressed, Joi did not glow. Already a little on the chubby side, Joi quickly ballooned. Dr. Pilleur did caution Joi and Brian about diet, nutrition. While he was in from off-shore, Brian did try to keep Joi's diet on track. But he was sure she was not adhering to any dietary restrictions when he was on the rigs.

One day, Joi was sitting on the couch, looking like a beached whale at seven and a half months of pregnancy. Brian was counting the days until he could go back off-shore. He was also wondering if he could again switch back to fourteen on, seven off. As he stirred the simmering soup, he heard Joi's phone chime. Then he heard Joi giggle. A moment later, another chime sounded.

Whenever he entered the room, Joi would quickly shove her cell phone out of sight. The few times he did see her cell phone unattended, the text history, the voice mail history was cleared.

When he heard another chime, Brian quietly covered the pot of soup. Then he crept toward the living room.

Joi was smiling happily as she typed out a reply. The moment she hit 'send' Brian swooped into the living room and grabbed the cell phone out of Joi's hand.

"Hey!" she screamed, horrified.

Joi tried to get to her feet, tried to grab the phone out of Brian's hand. Brian very easily kept Joi pinned to the couch by placing his hand on the top of her head.

Brian read aloud Ricky's message about how he couldn't wait to fuck her again. He read Joi's reply that Brian would not be leaving for off-shore until Thursday. He also read her declaration that she could not wait to suck his cock.
"God damn it! Give me that!" Joi screamed, flailing her arms wildly.

Brian continued to read her declarations of love and longing. He also read Ricky's words of sexual needs, sexual demands.

"Ever let him tap your ass?" Brian asked Joi over her screams of outrage.

Brian then hit Ricky's number.

"Hey, thought you said dumb ass is in the next room," Ricky said when he answered the phone.

"No, Dumb ass is talking to you right now," Brian said and gasped when Joi bit his hand, hard.

"Ricky! I'm sorry! He grabbed the phone out my hand," Joi cried out.

"Can come get her; her and all her shit will be right outside in, give me ten minutes, huh?" Brian said, again putting his hand on the top of Joi's head.

"You can't; this is my house too," Joi gasped.

"Oh, no ma'am, no it is not," Brian laughed as he ended the call.

He held up the phone.

"And uh, since I'm one paying for this? Think I'll hang on to it, all right?" he said.

"You, you can't, Brian, that's mine!" Joi spluttered.

Brian let go of her head. Joi lumbered to her feet, swinging at him, grabbing for her phone.

Brian backed up, keeping the phone just out of her reach. Joi continued to scream, continued to swing at him.

Then Brian grabbed Joi's arm, opened the front door, and pushed her out the door.

"Brian! I'm, it's cold out here," Joi screamed as Brian shut and locked the front door.

Brian ran to the kitchen door and locked that door as well. He also walked to the rear sliding glass doors and made sure they were securely locked.

Joi hammered frantically on the front door; it was forty degrees outside. Forty degrees is not very cold, until humidity is factored in. With the humidity at eighty nine percent, and a wind speed of twelve to fifteen miles an hour, it was bone chilling cold outside.

Brian found Joi's purse. He took his house key, her car keys, and their joint credit card out of her purse.

'It safe?' Ricky sent.

'Yes, come get me,' Brian replied as he grabbed Joi's heavy coat off the coat rack in the living room.

'Can't' Ricky replied.

'Why not? Need you,' Brian sent.

'Megan?' Ricky replied.

"What? Little mother fucker's fucking my wife AND living with some girl?" Brian asked.

He scrolled through and found Megan's phone contact.

"Hey, Joi, what up?" Megan answered after a few rings.

"Nope, Joi's ex-husband," Brian said cheerfully as he dropped Joi's purse and coat outside of the kitchen door. "Joi! Coat, purse right here!"

He quickly shut and locked the side door as Joi hurried around to the carport.

"Oh, hey, Brian, right? I mean, ain't never met you but, Ricky, I'm on the phone," Megan said.

"Just found out Joi and Ricky been coming over here, fucking while I'm at work," Brian said quickly, knowing Ricky would not hesitate to slap the phone out of Megan's hand.

"What?" Megan screeched in a long wail.

"Brian, please!" Joi wailed, hammering on the kitchen door now.

Brian turned the soup off and took his own cell phone out.

'Kill you,' Ricky sent to Joi's phone.

"Police will be happy see that," Brian laughed. "Hi Catherine, uh, listen, need you come get Joi."

"Uh, no, you break it you buy it," Catherine said cheerfully.

"Catherine, just found out Joi's been playing kissy face with Ricky when I'm off-shore," Brian said somberly.

"You are, oh Jesus, that damned idiot," Catherine hissed.

"And since Mr. Wonderful's refusing come get her and she sure as hell ain't staying here," Brian said.

"Her car?" Catherine asked.

"My car; I'm one bought it, I'm one insuring it, my name's on the title," Brian said.

"That damned idiot," Catherine hissed again. "Fine, fine, give me, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

When Catherine arrived, Brian let Joi and Catherine enter the house, let them get a few armloads of Joi's things. While they were doing that, Brian got the baby car seat out of the Toyota and put it into Catherine's car.

"Brian, I'm..." Joi attempted.

"Joi, don't care. Okay? Just don't care no more," Brian sighed.

"My phone?" Joi asked hopefully.

"Get it to you tomorrow," Brian said.

"Tomorrow?" Joi cried out.

"Joi, just get in the car," Catherine barked.

After Joi and Catherine left, Brian locked up the house then drove to the DeGarde Police Department. A morbidly obese uniformed officer bade Brian sign in, then called for assistance.

Sergeant Leeanne Pyle looked at Joi's cell phone, looked at Ricky's death threats, as well as Megan's death threats that were directed toward Joi.

"What would you like for us to do, sir?" the freckled red head asked.

"Just go put the fear of God into the two of them, huh?" Brian asked. "Really? Just want me a record of them making these kinds of threats should anything happen."

Brian found the charger for the phone and dropped phone and charger off at the Arcenaux home. Brent offered Brian a beer but Brian declined; it was not a social visit.

Joi found out that Brian had removed his own phone number from her phone. Since she didn't remember it, she had no way of contacting him, pleading with him to forgive her, begging him to let her come back home.

"Uh, no ma'am," Catherine snapped when Joi asked her if she had Brian's phone number.

"But I love him," Joi wailed.

"Damned funny way show it yeah, running around with that Ricky," Brent snapped.

While Brian was adding salt to his soup, while Joi was whining and wheedling her mother and step-father for Brian's phone number, Megan was tearfully agreeing to cease and desist with her threats against Joi Louviere.

Ricky, however, was sneering and posturing in front of Officer Brian Jochet. Brian and Leeanne shared a smile as Brian took a quick photograph of Ricky's car's license number.

"Was willing just give the boy a talking to," Brian said as he forwarded the license number to a few of their brothers in blue.

"Boy don't got the good sense just keep his mouth shut?" Leeanne agreed.

They watched as Ricky left a strip of rubber away from the apartment complex. Then Ricky made the mistake of changing lanes on Highway 19 without signaling.

"Aw," Brian smiled as he hit his siren and lights.

Ricky was enraged as he was given his ticket.

"You got to be kidding me," Brian laughed as Ricky did it again; changed lanes without signaling.

"You are fucking kidding me!" Ricky screamed.

"Same thing I said," Brian Jochet agreed.

After the fifth ticket, Ricky figured it out. Sneering, smirking, posturing and preening in front of a police officer wasn't the smartest thing to do. He learned to keep his hands tightly on the steering wheel, speak politely and respectfully to the officer.

"Know insurance is going go way up, huh?" Officer Trevor Bigelow politely informed Ricky as he handed the no longer smirking young man a ticket for performing a 'rolling stop' at a stop sign.

"But there wasn't nobody coming," Ricky pleaded.

"Sign says stop. Don't say only stop when someone coming," Trevor said. "Have a nice day, sir."

"And I ain't helping you pay none of them," Megan snarled at Ricky. "Why you don't see if Joi pay them for you, huh?"

While Ricky was trying to coerce his parents into paying for his eleven traffic tickets, Brian Louviere was happily doing his job. The company had run off the supervisor; when production drops to nearly sixty percent of previous totals, it's not hard to figure out the cause.

Brian was enjoying performing a familiar task. He was also enjoying being free.

He had not realized just how stifled his life had become. His time off of work had been spent coddling, pampering a spoiled little girl, trying to take care of her. Trying to care for her, when she had no interest in caring for herself.

"You smiling like that cause I'm bending over in front of you, Louviere?" Mike Christopher asked.

"No, smiling like this because you ain't behind me while I'M bending over," Brian said.

The men around them laughed and Mike nodded approval. They completed their job, then moved on to the next task.

"Heard you back to fourteen on, seven off?" Mike asked as they worked.

"Yeah," was all Brian said.

He was off-shore when Joi received the papers asking for a divorce. She actually threw up when she saw the papers.

"And what you expect?" Brent snapped as he blotted up the girl's mess.

Eric Greene of Johnson, Johnson & Lambert Law Firm read through the petition. He made a few notes, then faced Joi Louviere and Catherine Arcenaux.

"Okay, it's fairly cut and dry," Eric said. "I mean, this is a 'No Fault' state; he doesn't need a reason to divorce you, Mrs. Louviere," Eric said. "But uh, Ms. Banks did note 'Gross Infidelity' in the petition. Care to shed a little light on that?"

"She was playing kissy face with her old boyfriend," Catherine snapped.

"Just kissing?" Eric said.

"We uh, we fucked a couple of times," Joi said, trying to minimize the damage.

"Well, that would explain the infidelity," Eric agreed. "Mrs. Louviere? Really? I'd go ahead and sign it. The two of you were married for a total of four months, twenty three days. He's offering you a two thousand nine Toyota Camry in exchange for you not going after his four oh one K or any alimony."

"Child support?" Catherine said.

"Agrees to seven fifty a month plus half medical and education and the child will be on his medical," Eric said, flipping to the fifth page of the tick document.

He read the clause and looked up. He studied Joi's face for a moment.

"Says here he'll start paying after DNA test shows he's the father," Eric said. "Mrs. Louviere? There any chance he's not the father?"

"Oh Jesus, Joi, he is, isn't he?" Catherine snapped.

"Yeah he is," Joi protested.

"Then why on God's earth did you, look at me, Joi Angela Marchot, look at me. Brian is, isn't he?" Catherine snapped.

"I said yeah," Joi protested.

"Then I'd sign this," Eric affirmed. "I'm not going be able get you a better deal."

"Can't you, I mean, we can't make him stay married?" Joi asked.

"Sign the papers, Joi, just sign the papers," Catherine snapped. "Not even together six months and you running around on him?"

Joi did sign the papers, then burst into sobs as she realized she was struggling to spell 'Louviere' in her signature. The realization that she'd not even been married long enough to learn her last name brought it all home to her.

"Can you even tell me why?" Catherine demanded as they got into her Nissan Pathfinder.

"Why what?" Joi sniffled.

"Why what? What you think, why what?" Catherine screamed, hands pounding her steering wheel. "Why you would fuck boy think nothing slapping you, yeah Joi I know about him doing that, boy think nothing of stealing money out your purse get him some drugs and you got you a good man and you go fucking that Ricky? Why? You that stupid? You on drugs?"

"I don't know," Joi sniffled.

"Well, going have rest of your life figure that one out yeah," Catherine snarled.

"I mean, he was my first real boyfriend and..." Joi weakly offered.

"And your daddy was my first real boyfriend, Joi," Catherine screamed. "But when he decided he wanted fuck that little Cindy Brown I let his ass go. Didn't go running back every time Cindy turned around."

Joi did not respond, just sat sniffling. With a sigh, Catherine started the car.

Brian was in from off-shore when Joi gave birth to Candace Ann Louviere. He was at the bowling alley with Joe and Paul when his cell rang.

"Hi, Daddy," Catherine said, voice thick with exhaustion. "It's a girl."

The DNA did show that Brian was the father. Joi looked at Brian, hoping that this news would spark a reunion, a reconciliation. One look at Brian's dark eyes dashed those hopes, though.

"Like I said in them papers; keep her on my insurance, Brian said. "But Joi? Be dropping you next ninety days. Need get your own, hear?"

"Want hold her?" Joi asked.

"Fuck no," Brian snapped.

Outside of St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center, Brian paused at the door of his pickup truck. He turned and looked at the gleaming hospital building.

He could remember when all this land had been empty lots, just a big patch of tall weeds. He and his buddies would play cowboys and Indians or soldiers in the tall weeds. Then when the parish would come along and cut the grass down to stubble, they'd play football. They'd keep score, but by the next time they got together, they'd already forgotten the previous score.

Joe was always the running back. He was hard to tackle. Paul had always been the quarterback, even though his throwing arm lacked accuracy.

"Loved that," Brian said, feeling the blistering hot sun on his nine year old back, smelling the drying grass, feeling the stubble underneath his bargain brand sneakers, hearing his friends' shouts and squeals.

Joe had told him he was turning into a real ass hole lately. Paul tried to diffuse Joe's harsh words, but Joe had insisted that Brian had turned into a real ass hole.

Brian had even declined to participate in the company's annual Christmas Charity drive. Every year, since he'd been seventeen, Brian had participated in the Christmas Charity drive, pledging five hundred bucks, and buying a hundred dollars' worth of toys for the kids at the homeless shelter.

This year, he'd told them he couldn't. He didn't give Cindy, the sweet Administrative Assistant any reason, just told her he couldn't.

"Understand; got you that baby on the way," Cindy had said pleasantly.

Brian looked at the hospital building again and sighed as the image of his childhood faded away. Dead End had an ice cold draft and a hot, juicy hamburger. The onion rings were crisp and salty on the outside, juicy on the inside. The four or five gorgeous young women that danced, jiggled and gyrated on the small stage while he chewed through his meal didn't hurt either.

Congratulations; you're a grandmother," Brian sent to his mother.

He did not receive a response, but he had not expected one. He sat and watched in the mirror over the bar as a sweet faced blonde whipped her ankle length hair around, covering her quite impressive chest from view. Silently, he raised his glass and toasted his own reflection in the mirror.

"Congratulations. You're a daddy," he thought.

His second thought was 'whoopee.'

A few days later, Brian drove to the Arcenaux home, to drop off the first of his child support checks.

"One down, two hundred and fifteen to go," he thought as he knocked on the door.

"Hey, man, how you doing?" Brent greeted him cheerfully.

"Want see Candy?" Catherine asked cheerfully.

Brian's first thought was to loudly, forcefully declare that he did not want to see Candace Ann Louviere, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Brian did peer in at the infant. Candy had on a cute little flannel dress and had a pink ribbon taped to her hairless head. She did not wake as Brian rubbed her tiny little hand.

Leaving the Arcenaux home, Brian went to the office and instructed Cindy that on the third of every month, she was to send seven hundred and fifty dollars to Joi Louviere. He gave the woman the address, again confirmed the dollar amount then turned to leave.

"Why you not smiling?" Cindy asked him.

"Huh?" Brian asked.

"Usually you come in here, you all smiling," Cindy said quietly.

Brian opened his mouth and realized he could not think of anything to say. He shook his head and again turned to leave.

"Well, have you a nice day, huh?" Cindy said.

The divorce was granted. Brian read through the pages of legal mumbo jumbo and then read the note Ms. Nicole Banks had included. His attorney was asking if he would be applying for visitation with Candace Ann Louviere.

"Hheellll no," Brian said out loud.

He saw Nicole's email address in the letter head and quickly composed a reply.

Then he went back through the email and removed all the expletives. Reading through it a second time, Brian erased the message.

'Ms. Banks:

At this time, I have no plans to file for visitation with Candy. That might change at some time in the future, though. Should I decide to file for visitation, I will be in touch.

Brian Louviere'

"That a lot nicer than 'suck my dick think I want anything do with that little bitch,'" Brian said and hit 'send.'

That evening, Brian met up with Paul, Joe, and Kerrie, Paul's girlfriend. They reserved a lane and decided to go alphabetically.

"Paul, I know Joe's happy you brung Kerrie along," Brian said as they watched Kerrie manage to knock down three pins.

"Well, yeah," Joe agreed, puzzled.

"Yeah, finally, he ain't in last place," Brian joked.

"You know, you ain't first mother fucker ever gone through a divorce," Paul said quietly as Joe stomped away.

"Huh?" Brian asked.

"You ain't only one ever had him a wife done him wrong," Paul said a little louder. "But they ain't all turned into big old ass holes. Ain't all of them pissing off their only friends, only ones stuck by you whole time this shit was all coming down, huh?"

Kerrie gave a squeal and did a cute little dance when she managed to knock down two more pins. Paul smirked at her as she turned, smiling happily.

After Paul managed a spare, he nodded to Brian. Brian walked up, grabbed his ball and took his stance. Then he turned, grabbed his bag and stuffed his ball into the bag.

"Fuck you, and Joe? Fuck you, and Kerrie?" Brian snapped, then stomped away.

"God, I'm sorry!" Kerrie complained. "I know my bowling's bad, but..."

"Sweetheart, it's nothing about your bowling. It's nothing about you at all," Paul assured her as Brian hit the doors of the bowling alley at a brisk pace.

Brian drove home. After he backed into the carport, he sat in his truck, motor idling. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he shut the motor off.

Somehow, Ricky Hebert did the math. He'd smoked some meth, then did the math; Joi was no longer giving him any pussy, was no longer slipping him a few bucks. He now had fourteen tickets and no way of paying for any of them. He'd traded in his Camaro for five hundred dollars' worth of meth. He and Megan had smoked the meth in a matter of moments. A few hours later, Megan fucked Juan Flores, their dealer for a small amount of meth, which they smoked immediately, and immediately needed more. Megan was now living with Juan. No matter how many times Ricky reminded the stupid bitch that he was the one introduced her to Juan, she was unwilling slip him any pussy, front him any meth.

Somehow, Ricky added it all up and the answer was that Brian Louviere was to blame. He told Matt and Woody of his brilliant deduction and Matt and Woody, also strung out on meth, agreed with Ricky's calculations.

"Fucker owes us," Ricky declared.

They had grabbed Brian as he was leaving the Bargain Bin discount store. Matt and Woody grabbed Brian's arms and Ricky approached, fist balled up.

Brian was not a fighter. The last fight he'd been in was when he was fourteen years old and someone told Leland Setters Brian had called him a stupid n*gger.

Brian had not called Leland any such thing; he had no opinion, one way or the other about Leland Setters. But Leland would not be persuaded to believe Brian and the fight was on.

It wasn't much of a fight. Brian did get in one lucky punch and Leland got in two lucky punches, and then Principal long broke the combatants up.

Ricky swung his fist and Brian swung his leg. Brian's cowboy boot caught Ricky squarely in his testicles and Ricky dropped to the asphalt. Bringing his leg back down, the heel of Brian's cowboy boot caught Woody solidly on his shin. With a gasp, Woody let go of Brian's right arm.

Matt was smart enough to let go of Brian's left arm and scamper away. Brian turned and gave Woody a strong right cross, breaking Woody's jaw.

"Sir? Sir! I done called the police; they on they way," a store employee called out.
The police found some meth and some other drug paraphernalia in Woody's car so they impounded the vehicle. Thus began a campaign from Woody's family and Ricky's family against Brian Louviere, trying to persuade him to drop the charges.

"Done broke his jaw, his girlfriend, she done left him, boy ain't suffered enough?" Woody's dad pleaded.

"Got him all them tickets 'cause of you," Ricky's dad snarled. "You ain't happy with that?"

Someone scratched up Brian's truck. Someone attempted to throw a brick through his living room window, breaking the outer most pane.

The harassment did dwindle and finally cease after both Ricky and Woody were ordered into drug rehabilitation and given one thousand hours community service.

"I didn't ask for all of this!" Brian screamed as he sat in his truck, looking at the quiet street in front of his house.

Just then, a movement caught his eye. A boy, probably eight or nine, ran past his driveway. A second later, the boy turned and Brian watched as a football sailed over the boy's head.

Looking to his left, he saw another boy, about the same age, looking disgusted with his friend for not catching the ball. He couldn't hear them through the glass of his windshield, but he could imagine what the two boys were yelling at each other.

"I'm sorry," Brian said when Paul answered his phone. "I just, dude, I just..."

"Yeah, well, since you only had a forty six, you're in last place," Paul said after a long moment.

"Man, you remember? You remember playing football? When they'd cut the weeds down? You remember that," Brian said, tears trickling down his face.

"Yeah. We were pretty good," Paul remembered.

"Good? We were great," Briand enthused.

"Would steal them Playboys out of my dad's utility room?" Paul chuckled, having another memory of their youth.

And now? "Can look at Playboys and Parasols all we want," Brian agreed.

"Look? Hell, we can even get the real thing... Well, I can. You and Joe? Hmm?" Paul said.

"Anyway," Brian chuckled. "I'm sorry about tonight."

"I don't, I remember, we was all in such a hurry grow up," Paul said. "Now? Don't know what's so great about being grown up. But we're not nine anymore."

"No. No we're not," Brian agreed.

"Brian, man, yeah, look, forget about it. But dude, come on. Just because Joi fucked you all up huh?" Paul said.

"Yeah well," Brian agreed.

Joe answered after the second ring. He and Brian chatted for a minute. Joe accepted Brian's apology, but also echoed Paul's assessment; Brian needed help. Brian needed to get his head on right.

"Oh, hey, got me a riddle for you," Joe said. "What's got a big dick and hangs up?"

"I don't know, what?" Brian asked.

Then he was talking to dead air. Glancing at his screen, he saw that they were disconnected.

Brian chuckled at himself for falling for Joe's joke. Knowing Joe, the man would recycle that one and next time, Brian would be the one to hang up on Joe.

Brian started his truck again and edged to the lip of his driveway. The two boys got out of the street so that he could drive past. They smiled as Brian waved to them.

Brian drove to the Super One Foods grocery store. He bought a few boxes of disposable diapers, quite a few jars of baby food and a few bottles of formula. Then he drove to the homeless shelter. The grizzled old black man that opened the door cracked a smile when Brian held out the bags of food and formula. He then helped Brian carry the boxes of diapers into the small storage room.

"Thank you so much, sir," the man said.

"No, thank you," Brian said.

Brian drove to the Arcenaux house and brought in a box of diapers for newborns. He also showed Joi the small plush football he'd dug out of a bin in the grocery store.

"So, when you think she'll be ready play football?" Brian asked as he placed the plush toy into the crib with the sleeping infant.

"When her Daddy shows her," Catherine said.

"I ain't never going be nine again," Brian whispered to the girl. "But one day? You going be."

He stood up again and smiled sadly at the pink ribbon that now drooped on Candy's head. He walked to the door of the small room.

"Course? Probably won't be any more lots for you play football," he said sadly.

THE END

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I do thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad, and those that take the time to rate my stories.

Have a super sparkly day.