174 - Amarillo
*You may always win at trivial pursuit, but I also have my useless knowledge. - Dutch*
Leaving the kids with Darkness and Celt, Camille grabbed Dutch and went to get tacos. He knew his sister well enough to know that it was not the act of getting food that she needed. She needed time away from the situation. He sat quietly in the passenger seat as she drove to the little restaurant that Darkness swore had the best tacos in Baton Rouge.
After she parked, he followed her inside the brightly colored building. The murals inside had sugar skull skeletons dancing on the walls. Multicolored Dia de la Muertos flags hung from the ceiling. Christmas lights covered the columns and lined the window frames. There was so much going on that he was not sure where to look.
Yet, somehow, it seemed to work.
“Hey, Camille!” The woman behind the counter said excitedly.
“Hi, Sue Ellen,” she gave what was called the Pan Am smile.
The same smile that a stewardess would give. She’s been there, done that, has seen some shit and has the flight miles to prove it. To be honest, she doesn’t give a shit about you or what you have to say. However, you are stuck on this flight together so she will be polite to you and give you a smile.
Meanwhile, the Duchene smile was an honest and genuine smile that involved the entire face. The corners of the mouth turned up, the cheeks were raised, and corners of the eyes would crinkle. With the Duchene smile, it was often said that you smiled with your eyes.
Four years of college later and there were four things that he learned so well that they were still embedded in his mind. The Pan Am smile versus the Duchene smile. The Declaration of Independence was ratified on July Fourth but not signed until August. It was a form of sulfuric acid that made you cry when you cut onions. There were just as many words that broke the I after E except after C rule than those that followed it.
Why these were the facts that stuck with him, he really did not know. They were now permanently embedded in the wrinkles of his brain. It seemed that no matter how much he drank, those four facts remained. It was because of one of those facts that even when Camille spoke with her upbeat voice and smiled at the woman working the counter, he knew it was fake.
One hundred percent completely fake.
“This is my brother, Dutch,” she motioned to him and then looked at her and motioned to the deeply tanned woman. “Sue Ellen is in my marketing study group.”
Dutch offered his hand and gave his own Pan Am smile and lightly grasped her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sue Ellen.”
“And you,” she grinned at him. “What can I do for guys?”
Camille placed a large order to go and then ordered two drinks while they were waiting. Before she could pay, her brother handed over his own card and Sue Ellen ran it. Handing over the receipt and paper cups, she pointed towards the drink station.
“Do you need some cups for the salsa bar?”
“Yes,” Camille laughed as Dutch asked, “What the hell is a salsa bar?”
“Big or small?” Sue Ellen asked with a small laugh of her own.
“I’m going to need both, and can I get an extra bag?”
“Extra bag? Extra to go bag? Or extra bag of chips?”
“Both?” Camille suggested as she tucked her phone away.
“You got it,” Sue Ellen beamed as she produced several small one-ounce cups and large Styrofoam bowls and lids for all of them. Handing over a handled paper bag with the restaurant logo on it, she added, “Let me know if you need any more. I’ll get you some chips.”
“Thanks, Sue Ellen.”
As they rounded the corner, the fake smile fell from Camille’s face and Dutch could feel the change in her. He suddenly wished that they had brought Tink with them. He really worried when she got a soda with caffeine instead of her typical caffeine free drink.
“Hey, are you okey?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, but you may have to drive home.”
Hugging her close, he kissed her temple. “I’ve got you, * kleine zusje.”
Relaxing against his chest, she smiled, “I’ve missed being a little sister.”
“You do know that no matter where you go, you will always be my * kleine zusje,” he reminded her. “That’s just the way it works. You can’t get rid of me.”
“I know,” she smiled as she listened to his heart. “I needed to get away.”
“You did,” he agreed. “You were suffocating back home. I think Allison needed space away from you to heal also. You’re both doing better and I think it’s nearly time to come home.”
“There were times that I felt so alone,” she admitted. “But at the same time, I felt like I did it to myself.”
“In a way, you did, but at the same time, we also did it.” He sighed and kissed the top of her head again, “Let’s get your salsa. This place kind of makes me think of El Sombrero.”
“Yeah,” she smiled as she moved over to the salsa bar. “It’s the little piece of home. Never could find a place like the Cookie Jar.”
He chuckled at his sister as he looked at the different options. “Ummm, what is *fuego del infierno?”
“I think it’s hell fire or something,” she said as she filled two small cups with salsa verde. “Mom would love it.”
“Then I am going to avoid it.”
“Highly advisable,” she laughed as they both continued to fill the to go cups. “Avoid the Amarillo by Morning, too. But get a small cup for Nicki.”
“Thanks for the warning,” he chuckled as he placed the lid on the current cup. “You should tell Yvonne about this and have it added to their restaurant.”
“The salsa bar? Or the *fuego del infierno?” she grinned at him. “Or the Amarillo by Morning?”
Before putting the lid on the yellow salsa, he dipped his pinky in it and tasted it. His eyes watered and widened as his mouth formed a shocked O and then sucked down half his drink in one gulp. Swiping his arm across his forehead to remove the sweat before he then ran his ice-cold cup across the burning skin.
“I warned you,” she chuckled.
“And the other one is worse?” he asked with a high-pitched voice.
Trying not to laugh, she nodded.
“Holy fuck, your daughter needs some serious help. Fucking hell, has our mother had this?”
“No,” she laughed. “It’s bad enough that she discovered Cajun seasonings.”
“Don’t I know it,” he grumbled as he refilled his soda.
By the time he returned to the salsa bar, Sue Ellen had brought out three large bags. He took the heavier two of the three bags and followed his sister outside.
“I’m pretty sure our mother has burned every nerve ending from her mouth to her ass.”
“Explains a lot,” Camille quipped.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
