They spent the next day at the church with her parents; Logan helped her father finish some repairs on the second out building, so that they could turn it into a dining hall. Marie felt fairly sure her mother had contrived to get Logan out of his over shirts and she’d succeeded. It was hot in Mississippi and humidity was murder.
Besides Marie thought Logan was very aware of the giggling and murmuring that was coming from the shade tree she and her momma sat under snapping beans and peeling potatoes. Why else would the rotten man have whipped off his wife beater and struck such a calculated pose to pour a bucket o’ cold water over his head?
If she’d muttered, 'tease', a little too loud and gotten a cocky grin for her rebuke then it was all good.
Her father had rolled his eyes at Logan’s antics and tossed his t-shirt at his head.Her momma had taken her little girl into the kitchen and blushing and stammering told her some of the secrets that all women needed to know and then they'd cried.
When Logan and her father found them both sniffling they both just shrugged and said it was the onions; neither man seemed to notice there wasn't an onion to be found.
They’d worked until the sun high above them. When they settled at the long tables Logan had gotten the chance to speak with the kids and her parents about the coming conflict. He’d advised her parents to implement a guard rotation around the church and had walked the property with some of the older boys and her father pointing out weak spots and good places to set up the guards.
Her father had been appalled at first but around the time lunch started the news had been full of stories about human/mutant conflicts and propaganda touting the cure as the new savior of the human race.
It made it impossible for many of the young mutants to eat, but Logan had looked them all in the eye and told them, “when you feel sick with fear you eat, you sleep, you joke with your friends, you get your ass out of bed and you do what needs doin’ or you give up and you lie down to die!”
Marie knew her mother thought it was too harsh, but her father had nodded with grim understanding. Logan wasn’t aware of it, but it was that moment that her father had decided he was good enough for his little girl. They’d left right after Logan wrote down a laundry list of books for her father to read, dealing with strategy and defense.
So, it was just after night fall when they pulled into the ravaged, but still thriving heart of New Orleans.
Logan parked in a grocery store parking lot, “We’ll walk from here on out. There is no telling where Remy will be,” wrapping his arm around her waist they started walking through the busy streets. For the mass of humanity clogging the street and sidewalks they didn’t once get jostled; Marie was pretty sure Logan’s scowl cleared the way.
“He used to frequent this place,” Logan said as he pulled the door open and they stepped into the dimly lit bar, a woman in a revealing black dress and painted red lips swayed to the mournful and sultry sound of a trombone as she sang the blues like a woman that knew hard times. “Stick close, Darlin’, I’d hate to have to kill some poor schmuck because he got out of line.”
Marie smiled at his growling comment, but she snaked her hand into his back pocket and held on as she followed him to the bar. “I’m looking for Remy,” Logan growled as they sidled up to the bar.
“Hell, Cher, do that boy be owin’ you money?” The gnarled, old face crinkled as she assessed Logan. When her coal black eyes fell on Marie she groaned, “Or has dat fool been tuppin’ the girly?”
“He doesn’t owe me money and if he even thought about tuppin’ Marie he’d be dead before he could complete the thought,” Logan growled.
“Den you best kill me now, Logan, ‘cause she is one fine-
,” Marie turned to see who was speaking and found a tall man twirling a diamond tipped walking stick. He was wearing a dark tailored overcoat that framed his black silk shirt and well-worn black leather trousers; which he was wearing very well. His face was half hidden by the brim of his hat.The warning growl from Logan put a wicked smile on his face. Using the walking stick the man pushed the hat up and playfully ran his flashing red eyes over Marie before turning to the bartender, “They be wit’ me, Gigi, open up the back for me, cher?”
“Don’t you be gettin’ your thievin’ blood on mah brand new carpet,” Gigi warned as she pushed a button under the bar and a panel in the wall popped open.
“Remy wouldn’t dream of it, cher, if Remy’s gotta bleed he’ll do it outside, dat carpet be safe.”
They followed Remy behind the bar and through the hidden door; Marie was surprised that the noise from the bar just the other side of the wall couldn’t be heard from inside once the door was closed.
“Remy be damned,” the heavily accented voice broke the fresh silence; “kee-yaw, Logan but you ain’t aged a day. Remy he found him a grey hair in the mirror dis morn’ and the Wolverine still his same ol’ ugly self. Jus' don't seem fair, dat!”
“Hell, Remy, does that accent get thicker with age?”
Logan growled, with a smile. “Because I have to tell you it’s damned annoying.”
“Mah apologies,” Remy grinned, not looking at all apologetic. Turning to Marie he offered his hand, “mais beb, I be Remy.”
“Marie,” she smiled, taking his hand and ignoring Logan’s growl. Remy held on a bit longer than necessary and she knew he was doing it just to irritate Logan, so she let him have his fun. His face was unlined by the age he claimed was creeping up on him and his shoulder length hair was shiny and clean without a trace of, the mentioned, grey.
“You can give her hand back now,” Logan grumbled, and Remy winked conspiratorially at Marie as he dropped a kiss on the back of her hand before letting go of her fingers.
Marie decided this guy would be fun to have around, he reminded her of someone and in the next second, when he fingered a playing card and sent it into the air to burn away, she realized it was Jubilee. The thought startled a giggle from her; Logan didn’t like that, not one bit. "Sorry, Sugah," Marie apologised, feeling a bubble of happiness when she realized that Logan being all growly meant he was jealous.
“So,” Remy indicated a leather sofa for them to take a seat as he stretched lazily in a high backed wing chair. Pulling a deck of cards from his pocket he began idly shifting and flipping from one hand to the other as he spoke. “To wha’ do Remy owe dis visit? Got you plans to be tearin’ up; ‘cause as Ah remember it, you know how to show Remy a good time.”
Logan settled on the sofa and pulled Marie down beside him with an arm about her waist. “There’s a war brewin’.”
“Dats for sure,” Remy agreed. “But what does it have to do with Remy; Ah told you da last time Ah wasn’t gonna end up in a place like dat again.”
“You can sit on your ass afraid to take a stand,” Logan growled, his arm tightening around Marie’s waist, “but if we lose this fight they’ll be comin’ for you the same as the rest of us.”
“Ain’t that da truth,” Remy sighed, leaning forward in his chair to spread the cards out on the low table between them, never taking his eyes off of the pair on the couch, he made them slide and dance as if they were on strings. “You got a plan this time or are you just gonna drop in an’ tear the place to hell an’ back, like da last time?”
Logan grinned, a feral grin, as he pulled his arm from around Marie and laced their fingers together; leaning forward he plucked one of the cards off the table. “We ain’t talking about some secret laboratory that has been hidden from the American people; we’ll need a plan and to get one we’ll need information. Your den of thieves would be an asset.”
“We be thieves,” Remy frowned, “We fight, some, but we ain’t soldiers.”
“Ain’t lookin’ for soldiers,” Logan gestured with the card in his hand, “What we need is information and in order to get it we need mutants that ain’t afraid to fight dirty and have no love for government run ‘programs’.”
“Dat, Ah got,” Remy nodded, “tell me more.”
“I need to get someone inside Magneto’s camp,” Marie gasped and Logan paused to press his lips to her knuckles. “The hitch is that he has a telepath with him, probably one of the strongest, her name is Phoenix and she’s a telekinetic to boot. Whoever goes in needs to think they are scoutin’ a possible ally for you and your people, but they have to be mutant, Magneto has a hate on for anyone lacking mutation, and they have to be loyal to you. Buckethead is charismatic and almost as good at propaganda as Uncle Sam.”
“Shaa, but you don’t ask much,” Remy’s sarcasm was evident as he thought for a few moments. “Why don’t you fais dos dos; the chank-a-chank is hoppin’ ta night and Remy will think on what you be needin’.”
Logan nodded, tossing the playing card back onto the table. “Marie and I will find us a room for the night and see you in the morning.”
“Not too early, uh, Remy gonna need him some beauty sleep; by da looks o’ you, Wolverine, you could use a bit o’ dat, too.” The Cajun gathered his playing cards and tucked them in his inside pocket. “Remy knows a place fit for, le petite fille. Have a word, maybe two, wit’ Gigi on da way out her sista own a pretty little bed and breakfast off Canal Street on Royal,” Remy stood, twirled his walking stick and then tossed it into his vacant chair.
“Thank you,” Marie murmured with a smile as she let Logan pull her to her feet.
“It was Remy’s pleasure, cher!” Logan gestured to the wall and Remy laughed, “here,” walking over to the wall he turned the middle sconce to the right and the panel popped open.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, I have two things to say...
First, this chapter sucks! And second, Remy is a pain in the arse! I was so excited to find a use for him and then I realized that he is hell to write.
That all being said...Enjoy this as best you can and I will try to do better next chapter.
First, this chapter sucks! And second, Remy is a pain in the arse! I was so excited to find a use for him and then I realized that he is hell to write.
That all being said...Enjoy this as best you can and I will try to do better next chapter.
Chapter End Notes:
Any helpful hints on Remy would be appreciated...