finished?” “Not me.” Sharlene resumed her meal while monitoring all that went on. Clyde took Moot’s plate before addressing Drake. “What ’cha having, son?”
* * * *
“Nothing for me. Thanks.” He didn’t have time to eat. It was too close to meeting time. “I will take one of those strawberry drinks.” “Coming right up. Take a load off.” He invited Drake to join his other two customers. “Do you mind?” he asked. She quipped, “It’s a free world.” “No, Sha. Everything got a price.” Drake looked at the man who seemed to take exception to his presence as he eyed him long and hard. The urge to look at Sharlene was just too great to ignore. His view switched. She was stunning. He admired her cute little fro, her smooth, silky-looking brown-sugar skin and her inquisitive look that searched his inner being. “Uncle Moot, meet Drake Cormier. He says he doesn’t bite.” Uncle Moot leaped to his feet without warning. “Cormier wit’ teeth…bites.” Drake observed as the testy old man stomped to the door. The last of Sharlene’s tasty drink swirled in the bottle as she struggled out of her corner seat. It was said haste made waste. Sharlene proved that to be so. Tripping over her own feet landed her where she had no right to be—smack dab in Drake’s lap. His hands connected with her body right at the hips. A deep breath filled his lungs with her soft, rose-petal scent. Her body’s stiffening alerted him to her embarrassment. At that point, Drake expected her to go on the defensive. But she didn’t.
* * * *
Oh, my God! She hoped he didn’t feel her trembles as her insides shriveled from the heat of his touch. Each long digit on her body singed her skin. If she didn’t move—and move soon—she would certainly smolder into ashes. “I’m sorry,” she uttered. He boosted her as she attempted to rise from such a compromising position. “My pleasure.” “Skeeta!” Uncle Moot yelled from the walkway. “Coming, Uncle.” Embarrassed at the public use of her childhood nickname, Sharlene made a hasty exit, fighting down the giddy feeling that lingered. She reacted more like a schoolgirl. Her elder’s admonishment spurred her on. But the jolting physical contact made her senses reel. A look back as she retreated let her see Drake and the wide-toothed smile on his swarthy features.
Chapter Three
“Order! Order!” Tempers in the audience flared. Angry yells were directed at the panel lining the dais. “Please, everyone!” Residents packed the small school gym to the rafters and announced their disapproval with loud, objecting rants. They had the appearance of hardworking people because that was what they were. They were people connected on one accord in the face of their community’s possible extinction. “Ya’ll can take yo’ oily money and stick it where the sun don’t shine,” one disgruntled participant yelled. “It was an offer some of your neighbors found very generous.” “Traitors!” “Sellouts!” “Who sold out?” Sharlene leaned over to loudly whisper in Moot’s ear. “Folks ya never woulda thought. Guess love of money topped heritage.” The panelist said, “We’ve brought with us this afternoon someone to help all of you cut through the red tape of your claims.” “We not selling!” the man behind Sharlene yelled. “Clean up yo’ mess and get out!” “The oil company’s success of the cleanup is clearly seen around the pumping stations in the Gulf’s perimeter. Pretty soon, you’ll be able to resume your fishing businesses in pristine waters.” “Oil’s been leaking outta some of them pumps for decades. Your company counts the amount as negligible. No big deal!” someone contested. “It is a big deal if the seafood tastes like crude.” “Uncle, what the company spokesperson said is not true.” Sharlene defied the notion of clear water. “I saw oil residue in the Pass.” His look said