turned to me.
'Are your parents going to have the police go to the bayou and get these people?' he asked.
'No,' I said. 'They're all dead and gone.'
'But before they died, they tortured me,' Gisselle moaned. Martin's head snapped around so he could face her again.
'What did they do?' he asked.
'Oh, things I can't describe. Especially to a boy,' she added.
'They did not!' I cried. Gisselle widened her eyes and shot looks of rage at me.
'Really, Gisselle,' she said in her most arrogant, haughty voice, 'you don't think! told you everything that happened to me, do you? I wouldn't want to give you nightmares.'
'Wow,' Martin said. He looked up at Beau who still wore a smart, tight smile on his lips.
'Maybe you shouldn't ask your sister about her previous life,' he said, sitting at my feet on the lounge. 'You'll only bring up bad memories.'
'That's right,' Gisselle said. 'I'd rather not have bad memories tonight anyway,' she added, and ran her hand down Martin's left shoulder and arm. 'You've never been with a Cajun girl then, Martin?' she asked coquettishly.
'No, but I've heard about them.'
She leaned forward until her lips nearly touched his ear.
'It's all true,' she said, and threw her head back to laugh. Martin laughed, too, and took a long gulp from Gisselle's drink, emptying the glass. 'Gisselle, can you make us another drink?' she asked me in a voice that dripped with enough sweetness to make my stomach bubble.
It took all my self-control to battle back the urge to throw my own drink into her face and run into the house. But surely, this would end soon, I thought, and Gisselle would be satisfied she had had her little fun, all at my expense. I got up and started to make the drink the way she had instructed. Beau kept his eyes on me. I saw that Gisselle noticed how he was watching me, too.
'I just love that ring you gave my sister, Beau,' Gisselle said. 'Someday, I hope a handsome young man will think enough of me to give me a ring like that. I'd do just about anything for it,' she added.
The bottle slipped out of my hand and hit the table, but didn't break. Beau jumped up.
'Here, let me help you,' he said, quickly seizing the neck of the bottle before too much rum spilled.
'Oh, Gisselle, you shouldn't waste good rum like that,' Gisselle cried, and laughed again. My hand was still trembling. Beau took it quickly into his and gazed into my eyes.
'You all right?' he asked. I nodded. 'Let me finish making the drink,' he said, and did so, handing it to Gisselle.
'Thank you, Beau,' she said. He smirked at her, but said nothing. 'I'm sorry I can't talk about myself, Martin,' she said, turning back to him, 'but I would love to hear about you.'
'Sure,' he said.
'Let's take a little walk,' she suggested, and rose from the lounge. Martin looked at Beau who simply stared expressionless for a moment. Was he waiting to see how far Gisselle would go? Surely, he didn't believe she was me. Why wasn't he putting an end to it then?
She scooped her arm into Martin's and pulled him close to her, laughing at the same time. Then she fed him some of the rum and Coke like she was feeding a baby. He gulped and gulped, his Adam's apple bouncing with the effort until she pulled the glass from his lips and drank some herself.
'What strong arms you have, Martin,' she said. 'I thought only Cajun boys had arms like this.' She flashed a smile back at me. 'And Cajun girls,' she added with a laugh. She turned him away and they walked deeper into the shadows, Gisselle's laughter louder and sillier.
'Well,' Beau said, sitting on my lounge again. 'Your sister has really made herself at home.'
'Beau,' I began, but he put his fingers on my lips.
'No, don't say anything. I know how hard this has all been for you, Gisselle.' He leaned toward me.
'But . . .'
Before I could say anything, he pressed his lips to mine, softly at first and then harder as he wrapped his arm around me and brought me into the nook between his shoulder and chest. He pressed the palm of his other hand against the small of my back, lifting me slightly. His kiss and embrace took my breath away. When our lips parted, I gasped. He kissed the tip of my nose and then brought his cheek to mine and whispered.
'You're right,' he said. 'We shouldn't wait any longer. can't keep my hands off you. I've thought of nothing else but touching you and making love to you,' he said, and slid the palm of his right hand over my hip and up the side of my body until he reached my breast. He pressed his body against me, driving me back on the lounge.
'Wait . . . Beau . . .'
His lips were over mine again, only this time, he performed the French kiss Gisselle had described. The feel of his tongue on mine sent a mixed chill of excitement and fear down my spine. I struggled, wiggling under him, finally pulling my head back enough to free my mouth from his.
'Stop,' I gasped. 'I'm not Gisselle. I'm Ruby. It was all a prank.'
'What?'
I saw from the look in his eyes and the silly smile on his face that he had known. Pressing my hands against his chest, I pushed him away. He sat back, still pretending a look of amazement and shook.
