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Chapter 12
February 14, 1999
Carrie Bingley woke
up groggily, her eyes barely opening in the pre-dawn of the next
day. She was in her bed in her motel room, but something felt
wrong, somehow. Was it all those Zombies she drank?
Someone - Patel?
- had suggested going down to the Quarter to laugh at all the
boys trying to get all the Yankee girls to remove their tops
for beads. Of course, none of the local ladies ever got involved
in such foolishness. Before she knew it, Carrie was in some dance
club, music blaring loudly and drinks appearing in her hand.
It would have been rude not to sample them, wouldn't it?
Now, in the wee
hours of the morning, Carrie felt she had made a mistake. She
had no remembrance of returning to her room last night. Good
Lord, she thought, did I drive in this condition?
She was the daughter of an insurance agent, after all. Wait
a minute - I rode with Henry and Cathy to the Quarter. I don't
remember going back for the car. How did I get back here? Did
they bring me back?
A strange sound
told Carrie she had other, more immediate issues with which to
deal. That was a snore. Carrie was awake. She had no roommate.
And there was someone
in her bed.
Carrie leapt out
of bed, awaking a large form lying next to her. She stumbled
into the chair next to the bed and made out clothes on it. Green
colored clothes.
Just then, Carrie
realized she was buck naked, just as the form began to rise.
"You! Who the
hell are you?" she cried as she pulled the sheets off the
bed in an effort to cover herself.
"Now, isn't
this a disappointing way to wake up," drawled a familiar
voice.
"JOHN?!?"
"Hey, she remembers
me," said John Buford.
"What are YOU
doing here?" She then noticed that he had on no more clothes
than she.
"Now that's
a dumb question, even for a Golden Girl."
"Oh my god…No…Not
you…." Carrie sat on the chair, memories flooding back.
"Carrie,"
Buford said as he sat up and moved to her side of the bed, keeping
as much of himself under the covers as possible, "it's okay…I
didn't take advantage of you, trust me."
"Are you trying
to say we didn't…?"
"Well, of
course we did it, but it was mutual, I'm afraid."
"I think I'm
gonna be sick…"
"Wait!"
Buford pulled off the covers and dashed towards the bathroom.
In a moment he returned with a trash can. "Here."
Carrie looked at
the can. "You idiot! I didn't mean sick sick! I mean embarrassed!"
"Oh…well,
with all those Zombies you drank…" He realized that
she was shaking with repressed laughter. "What's so funny?"
"You're naked."
"Uh, yeah.
So are you, as a matter of fact."
Carrie shook her
head. "I don't believe this. Darcy blows me off, I get drunk,
and I end up with John Buford, of all people, in a motel room.
My life sucks."
"Carrie,"
Buford said tenderly as he knelt before her and took her hand,
"if it means anything, it was real good."
Carrie snorted.
"So good I don't remember anything of it."
"You don't
remember?" cried Buford. "Are you kidding me? You don't
recall running into me at the club? You seemed happy to see me."
He frowned - If she doesn't remember…Oh lord, maybe I
did take advantage of her! He looked urgently back at her,
"We got up to dance to that Britney Spears song…"
"Madonna,"
Carrie corrected him absent-mindedly.
"Right, Madonna,
and…" He caught himself and slowly smiled. "Yeeaah…
Madonna."
Carrie saw her mistake.
"Uhh…the time at the club is coming back to me. But
I don't remember anything else!"
A twinkle replaced
the concern in Buford's eye; he was on to her now. "Really?
You don't remember dirty dancing with me?" His hand softly
encased one of her knees.
"I…I wouldn't
call that dirty dancing," she prevaricated.
Buford recalled
Carrie grinding her pelvis into his hip. "Hmm…I'll
take your word for it - if you promise to show me what real
dirty dancing is sometime."
Carrie swallowed
nervously and closed her knees together, as his now caressing
hand was definitely distracting her.
"Soo…"
He started running his finger along the outside of her calf,
"you have no recollection of me taking you back to your
motel, is that what you're saying?"
"I…kinda."
"And the front
seat make-out session in the parking lot outside?"
"The night
is a blur," she gasped as her face turned red.
"And you inviting
me in? And attacking me once the door was closed?" His lips
descended on her knee.
Carrie shivered.
Buford's attentions
had succeeded in parting Carrie's knees. He took the opportunity
to softly kiss the inside of one. "You practically tore
my uniform off, Carrie," he kissed the other one, getting
in a little lick as well, "after you whipped off that pretty
little top of yours. I can't believe you have no memory of that."
Carrie whimpered.
"Yeah,"
he grinned in a cocky way that she found both infuriating and
devastatingly attractive. "That's the sound you made waiting
for me to put the condom on. Like you couldn't wait…and
you say you don't remember." He rose on his knees and grew
close to her face.
Carrie was panting,
but she fought to regain control of the situation. "Maybe
I do, and maybe I don't. But what's done is done. You can go
now; I won't hold anything against you. You don't have to worry
about me making any complaints…"
She was going to
continue, but Buford silenced her with a soft, sweet kiss, his
hands cupping her cheeks.
"Why'd you
do that?" she asked softly.
"'Cause I wanted
to. 'Cause I liked it." He kissed her again. "I like
kissing you, Carrie."
"Stop,"
she whispered unconvincingly.
"Are you sure,
Carrie?"
"Yes. No. I
don't know."
"Let me help
you make up your mind." This time he kissed her with growing
passion. Carrie's traitorous body started to respond to the attention.
Her hands moved on their own to his face. The next thing Carrie
knew, Buford had lifted her out of the chair and was carrying
her back to the bed.
"What…what
are you doing?"
"You said you
don't remember what happened last night."
"I…I remember
some of it…All of it, actually."
"Well, that's
good, but I want to make a better impression on you."
"What do you
mean?"
"I'm gonna
make sure you'll remember this time for the rest of your life."
~*~*~
A few hours later,
as the sun peeked through the window, Carrie awoke again in a
much better frame of mind. Buford's strong arms embraced her
as they spooned together.
He kept his promise, she thought with a grin, I'll never
forget the second time.
She felt him stir.
"Hmm…Hey, babe" he murmured.
"Hi yourself,
soldier."
"Mmm…you
feel nice."
"Watch where
your hands are going there, mister."
"Believe me,
lady," he nuzzled her, "I know exactly where they're
going."
She turned in his
embrace. "Is that so? Don't you think I might have something
to say about that?"
His smile faded
as he looked at the clock. "Had I more time, I would be
happy to explore that topic with you, pretty lady, but I gotta
meet my people at Jackson Barracks for breakfast."
"Oh."
Carrie was disappointed. Was this just a one night stand?
"Damn,"
he said as he rolled to the other side of the bed. "I don't
want to leave." He sighed.
My life sucks, Carrie thought again.
"Hey,"
he exclaimed, "come with me. Wives and such are invited."
She rolled over
and propped herself on one elbow. "'Wives and such.' And
just what am I?"
"You're my
girl."
Carrie looked wide-eyed
at him. "I'm your girl? Just like that?"
Buford put his hands
behind his head, looking very pleased with himself. "Yep.
Just like that."
~*~*~
A HISTORY OF MARDI GRAS
A series for the Loyola VOICE by Lizzy Boudreaux
You can't have a
parade without bands. Mardi Gras in New Orleans is no exception.
In fact, Carnival attracts the best marching bands in the nation
outside of the Rose Parade.
As an old band geek
- my instrument was the flute - I can tell you marching bands
come in two flavors. The most popular style is the military-like
corps marching band. They look like robots moving in unison down
the street. All the military bands are corps-style, and so are
most of the college and high school bands.
Having been in a
corps band, I can tell you it's not as easy as it looks. You
have to be in step, keeping in line and maintaining your diagonal
without moving your head. You use your eyes, instead. The effect
is to move as one organism, concentrating on the sound. Not overpowering,
you should blend properly with the rest of your band mates. When
it's right, you can feel the harmony. It's a rush.
There are a lot
of very good corps bands out there. The US Marines are a particular
favorite of mine. But I think the best college corps band, outside
of the academies, is Texas A&M. The tight formations, quick
turns and outstanding sound - that's what the rest of us are
trying to achieve.
The other style
is show band, a manner made famous by the Grambling State University
Marching band. Mainly adopted by inner-city high schools and
historically black colleges, the high-stepping, dancing and really
big sound turns on the audience in a big way.
Show bands are either
really good or really bad - there is no in-between. It is extraordinarily
hard to dance like they do AND sound good at the same time. The
best just blow you away. No wonder they are so popular with the
crowd.
You can start a
major argument over what school has the best show band. Grambling,
Southern, Florida A&M and others all have their loyal fans.
I wouldn't dream of giving my opinion. But as far as high school
bands go, nobody works harder than New Orleans' own St. Augustine
Catholic High School Marching 100. I have heard that the football
players are glad they aren't in the band - 'cause the band workouts
are too tough…
~*~*~
Carrie felt very
self-conscious as she entered the garage staging area hand-in-hand
with Buford. He directed her over to a sergeant in camouflage,
holding a little girl, standing next to a woman.
"Sergeant,
report," Buford ordered.
"Everyone present
and accounted for, sir." He shifted the child as he took
in Buford's clothing - he was still in the Class As from the
day before. "Umm…I thought we were in BDUs today."
"We are, Mack.
This is my guest, Miss Carrie Bingley." He introduced the
sergeant and his wife. "I left my change of clothes here.
I'll change, and we'll grab the chow. Take care of this lady,
please?"
"Our pleasure,
sir." Buford gave Carrie a quick peck on the cheek and went
into another room. Meanwhile, Carrie was mortified - she was
sure "WE SLEPT TOGETHER" was plastered all over her
face.
But the sergeant's
wife put her immediately at ease. "Hi, Carrie. I'm very
glad to meet any friend of Captain Buford."
"Thank you,"
Carrie answered as they shook hands.
"We've been
worried about him - he NEVER brings anybody to these gatherings."
"Really?"
Carrie squeaked.
"Yes - half
of us have been trying to set him up with our relatives or friends.
He's so nice; we hate to see him lonely."
John - lonely? Carrie's mind rebelled with this intelligence.
"But I see
we shouldn't have bothered." She retrieved her daughter
from her husband. "And this young lady is Brittany. Say
'hello,' Brittany."
"Goo,"
was Brittany's answer, as she reached out for the newcomer.
"Ah, she likes
you. Do you mind?" Before Carrie could respond, Brittany
was in her arms.
"Umm…I haven't had a lot of experience with babies,"
Carrie explained as the squirming child sought her neck. "I'm
afraid I'll drop her."
"Naw,"
said the sergeant. "She's got a grip of iron. Once she has
you, she ain't going anywhere."
"Come on,"
said his wife as she took Carrie's unused arm. "Let me introduce
you to everybody."
Halfway through
the introductions, Buford rejoined her, dressed in his starched
Battle Dress Uniform. "Ah, there's a pretty picture,"
he greeted her.
Carrie noted he
was eyeing the child in her arms. Returning Brittany to her mother,
she said to Buford, "Don't get any bright ideas, soldier-boy."
"Don't know
why I shouldn't - you're a natural." They continued to greet
the rest of the command.
Later, over bacon
and eggs, Carrie leaned over to Buford. "Everyone's so nice."
Buford nodded. "You
sound surprised."
She looked down
at her plate. "Most of the people I meet are more stand-offish,
not like this."
"Well, you
are the Captain's girl," he joked.
"You're kidding."
"Well, mostly.
Seriously, some of the best people I've ever met are in the National
Guard. Weekend warriors, volunteering to serve whenever we're
needed. Taking out the bad guys or helping during a natural disaster
- that's our job." He waved at the people seated around
them. "Look at these people here, Carrie. Lawyers, accountants,
oil field workers, secretaries, teachers, mechanics. We ain't
doing this for the money, believe me. I could tell you about
Duty, Honor, and Country, but you wouldn't understand."
He shook his head. "It's something we do, because it needs
to be done.
"But, Carrie,
there's another reason. You gotta admit that you can be a bit
stand-offish, too. But you've been very receptive to everybody
today."
Carrie had to admit
that was true. "But why am I so comfortable here?"
"Maybe 'cause
you're out of your comfort zone. You're forced to trust
us, so you've dropped your defenses. You're a nice person, Carrie,
when you want to be."
Carrie was taken
aback. No one had called her nice before.
"I haven't
been very nice to you." She caught herself thinking of the
night before and added, "Well, except for…you know.
Yet, you kept coming after me. You never gave up. Why?"
Buford gave her
a strange look. It was serious and amused at the same time. "'Cause
I always knew you'd be my girl."
A lump formed in
Carrie's throat as her stomach did somersaults. "I…I
don't understand…"
He leaned in and
kissed her cheek. "Just give me the time to show you why
I think you're wonderful. Please?"
Carrie melted as
Buford's bright blue eye bore into hers. "Okay."
~*~*~
Buford drove Carrie
back to her car off Canal Street. The traffic was fairly heavy,
as people were preparing for the parade later. He was able to
get within a half-block by parking illegally in someone's driveway.
"No problem," he claimed, "I can get about any
ticket I want waved."
"Nice ability
to have there, John."
He walked Carrie
to her car. "Look," he said, "I don't have much
time - I gotta get back to Jackson Barracks." Carrie just
looked at him as he dug into one pocket. He pulled out a couple
of business cards and a ballpoint pen.
"Here,"
he said as he wrote furiously on one of them, "this is my
home number. Can I get your number?" He handed her the two
cards and pen.
Carrie scribbled
her phone numbers on the unmarked card and returned it and the
pen.
"Great,"
Buford smiled. "I'll call - I promise."
"Any more parades?"
Carrie asked - she could think of nothing else to say.
"No - this
is our last one. Everybody's heading out afterwards to spend
Mardi Gras at home." He took her hand and grinned. "Carrie,
last night was - unbelievable - special. You're a very special
lady." He kissed her. "I will call - trust me."
"I have to
- I'm your girl, right?" she asked, her light tone belying
her conflicted emotions.
"Yeah you rite."
Another kiss and he was gone.
~*~*~
Lizzy, Mari and
John met up with their friends along the St. Charles route on
Sunday evening, parking near Emma's house. This was one of the
big events of Carnival - the Bacchus Parade, the oldest of the
super krewes. Many of the throng were in Star Trek costumes,
to honor Bacchus XIX.
As expected, Chuck
was glued to Jane's side. The young nurse didn't seem dismayed
by the proximity, either. Right next to the couple was Carrie
Bingley.
Lizzy had to admit
that she was surprised that she showed, given the humiliation
she had undergone the night before. But there she was, hugging
and chatting with Chuck and Jane as if she had not a care in
the world. She was dressed more conservatively - a white t-shirt
and stone-washed jeans over sandals.
Will wandered over.
"Hi, Boudreaux." He glanced over at Carrie. "Am
I safe, or is she armed?"
A bright smile covered
Lizzy's features for moment. "Hi, Will. No, it looks like
you're out of harm's way. How's your shoulder today, hero?"
Will's gut got tight
at Lizzy's smile. Maybe…maybe Chris is right? "A
lot better, but don't expect me to pick you up."
Lizzy laughed. "You
mean like Chuck and Jane? No way! You'd tear up your back."
I doubt it.
Meanwhile, Mari
was pleased with John's demeanor. He had been polite to Lizzy
and attentive to her, and for the first time in a long time,
early for their date. Things were proceeding right along.
Chris had also noticed
Waguespack's more considerate behavior, and he fought to keep
the disappointment off his face.
About an hour later,
the sirens signaled the approach of the krewe. The chant started:
"SHATNER! SHATNER! SHATNER!"
Sure enough, there
he was, saluting the crowd in the twilight: actor William Shatner,
Bacchus XIX, a post held by such dignitaries as Danny Kaye, Bob
Hope, Charlton Heston and Kirk Douglas. The chubby Canadian -
wearing red and silver, naturally - was having the time of his
life as he tossed beads and doubloons to his subjects for the
night.
The masked Riding
Lieutenants, on horseback and dressed in Romanesque armor, were
the real officers of the krewe. Like the courts of old, the power
was in the hands of the bureaucrats.
The famous Bacchasaurus,
the three King Kong floats, the white 105 foot long Bacchagator,
and the eighty-five foot long Bacchawhoppa whale, each holding
between a dozen and eighty riders, were interspaced between the
regular floats in the year's theme "Bacchanal" - it's
a party.
Lizzy was surprised
at Carrie's behavior that evening. Unlike the night before, she
was polite and friendly, yet distracted. It was not puzzling
that she ignored William - after last night that was to be expected.
But she didn't seem depressed, either, and both Will and Lizzy
were curious as to the cause.
About a half-hour
later, they had their first clue. Carrie, who had been peering
down the route, suddenly gave out a small squeal and began to
fight her way towards the street curb.
"What's up
with Carrie?" asked Emma.
The group observed
Carrie waving her arms and bouncing up and down, screaming "GO
ARMY! YAAY! LOOKING GOOD, GUYS! WOO HOO!"
"Okay, it's
certified," Will said in a low voice. "Carrie has lost
it."
"What in the
world…?" Chuck managed.
Jane touched his
arm. "I guess she likes soldiers."
After the camouflaged
guardsmen marched by, Carrie turned towards the group and saw
the expressions on their faces. "What?" she asked.
"What was that
all about?" demand her brother.
"Just…umm…supporting
our troops."
~*~*~
Bacchus was its
usual generous self, and the throws were plentiful. Towards the
end of the parade, Emma noticed Will standing near Lizzy. Grinning,
she decided to push things along. She walked up and was able
to throw one arm around Will's neck while doing the same around
Lizzy's waist.
"And how are
two of my favorite people doing tonight?" she asked the
pair.
Will tried to hided
his wince - his shoulder was still tender. "All right -
I've caught my share. How 'bout you, Lizzy?"
Lizzy saw Will's
expression, but she forgot his injury. She assumed Will was falling
back into his stick-in-the-mud routine. Can't you lighten
up for one full night, Darcy? "Don't know if I can make
it back to the car," she indicated the amount of beads around
her neck.
Emma grinned at
them. "Y'all coming back to the house afterwards?"
Lizzy spoke first.
"Not tonight - I've got an early start tomorrow. Going to
Lafayette with Chris, you know."
"Aw, c'mon,
Lizzy, just for a little while?" Emma whined. Lizzy just
smiled and shook her head. Emma turned to Will. "You're
stopping by, aren't you?"
Will was not looking
forward to a Mardi Gras without Lizzy, and he was a little jealous
of Chris. "Maybe for a couple of minutes. I think I'll pack
it in early." Will saw no purpose in hanging around without
Lizzy.
Emma was not happy
about this turn of events, but there was nothing she could do
about it. "Mari! Cathy! We all set for tomorrow?"
"Set for what?"
asked John.
Emma smiled at Jane.
"We're gonna have a ladies day out on Monday, showing Jane
around while Lizzy abandons us for Lafayette. We'll be back in
time for the parade."
"Lundi Gras
for the ladies!" laughed Mari.
Neither Chuck nor
John looked overjoyed at this news. Chuck was hoping to spend
more time with the angelic nurse, but he put on a cheerful face.
"That's great - I know you'll show her a good time."
"You bet, Chuck,"
Cathy assured him with a devilish grin. "We're gonna do
the Quarter - everything!"
No one noticed Carrie's
blush at the mention of the French Quarter, as she was standing
at the outer edges of the group.
"And the Riverfront!"
added Emma. "Rex is supposed to meet up with the King and
Queen of Zulu tomorrow at six! The mayor and everybody's gonna
be there!"
"Oh, stop!"
cried Lizzy. "You're gonna make me jealous." Jane just
smiled prettily.
"Wow - sounds
like fun," said Chuck. I just hope it's not too much
fun. "You are coming back for Orpheus, right?"
"Wouldn't miss
it, Chuck. We'll be back in time," Emma assured him as she
glanced at Jane. This is working out just as I planned. Good
- good people deserve each other.
Mari turned to John.
"You okay?" she asked in a low voice.
"I'm cool,"
he managed.
"I guess I
should have told you, but we just decided it tonight. It's just
us girls - we'll be back here before parade time."
"Sure - you
show Jane a good time, babe. I'll see you here tomorrow."
He leaned down for Mari's kiss on his cheek, and closed his eyes
so that Mari couldn't see his anger.
~*~*~
The yellow Orleans
Parish school bus pulled up in the parking lot of Jackson Barracks
a little after ten p.m. The troops of Buford's company trudged
out of the bus, a little tired after their third five-mile march
in as many nights, into the waiting arms of their wives and husbands,
girlfriends and boyfriends. First to leave the bus was Buford,
and he stood next to the door, allowing his people to precede
him. Not only was it the right thing to do, he knew there was
no one waiting for him.
Last off the bus
was Mack, his sergeant. They walked together towards the waiting
cars, Buford intending to take his farewell of Mack's family
before he retrieved his gear and began his journey home to Baton
Rouge. About ten feet away from Mack's minivan, Buford came to
a dead stop. Standing in the headlights next to Mack's wife and
daughter was a tall redhead in t-shirt and jeans.
"Hi, soldier
- need a ride home?"
Buford could say
nothing.
Carrie's confidence
started to fade. "I…I thought it was too late for you
to drive all the way back to Baton Rouge," she explained.
Hesitating for another
moment, he watched the normally calm and collected Carrie Bingley
bite her lip as she twisted her hands together nervously. Finally
he was able to utter, "Carrie."
Carrie was perfectly
baffled by Buford's reaction to her impulsive act. She felt sure
he would shoot her one of his infuriatingly devastating cocky
smiles. This serous look on his face was disconcerting and alarming.
Oh, my god - he doesn't want me here.
Before Carrie could
get her muscles to work and make her escape, she found Buford's
strong hands on her upper arms. His bright blue eyes stared right
into her green ones. Carrie felt that her soul was completely
naked before him. Buford breathed out, closed his eyes and pulled
Carrie close, resting his forehead against hers.
"I didn't expect
this," he said softly, his voice full of wonder.
Carrie closed her
eyes as well, her body relaxing as the realization of his true
feelings flowed over her. "Neither did I," she said
as her hands touched his waist, a nervous smile trembling on
her lips. "This is happening so fast."
Mack coughed before
interrupting. "Err…Well, see you later, Captain - Miss
Carrie. Hope you have a good night…"
His wife grabbed
his arm. "C'mon, Mack, before you make a bigger fool out
of yourself." She wished the other couple good night, got
her family into the minivan and pulled out of the parking lot.
Carrie and Buford
stood together almost alone in the lot, a couple of streetlights
illuminating the scene. Carrie was the first to speak. "John,
is this for real? Do you feel this…this thing between us?
Is it the same for you?"
"Carrie, I
know I kid around a lot, but believe me when I tell you that
I've never felt this way before."
"John, can
you promise me one thing? That we'll both try as hard as we can
to make this work?"
"You sound
scared."
"I'm terrified,
John." She managed a small smile. "I suppose you're
as confident as hell."
"You suppose
wrong. I'm scared too, babe. I'm almost drowning here."
"So what do
we do?"
Buford leaned in
and kissed her. It started hesitant and soft, but it soon grew
into so much more. Buford pulled back and stared at her. "I
promise you, Carrie, that I'll put everything I've got into this.
I don't know where we're going, but I don't want to be anywhere
but here. I don't want anything but you."
Carrie looked searchingly
into his eyes, her own watering. Seeing the conviction on his
face and hearing the honesty in his voice, she smiled and wrapped
her arms round his neck. This time she initiated the kiss. It
was a long time before they came up for air.
"Follow me?"
"To your motel?"
She smiled. "I'm
paid up through Tuesday."
"Let me grab
my gear."
"You don't
have to work tomorrow?"
He shook his head.
"I'm taking the next couple of days off."
She gave him a mock
serous look. "Great. Your bosses will probably fire you."
Now he gave her
the cocky smile she had expected. "Me? Nah. I make too much
money for them. I'm a lawyer, remember? I've practically got
a license to steal." He kissed her again. "Oh, by the
way - even though it's almost over, Happy Valentine's Day."
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