Post by ketamine on Mar 31, 2016 19:44:00 GMT -5
“I dunno about dis…” Nero bit her lip nervously as she slid into the passenger seat of Remy’s beat up Honda. Since they're pseudo date, they'd texted almost every day while she'd traveled for FGA and he’d kept her cheered up with goofy snapchats while she'd kept vigil in the hospital at Jason Mentez’s side.
“You liked winning, didn't you?” he drawled in his soft Creole accent, a voice that made her think about crawfish boils and hot summer days.
“Well, yeah…” Nero scrunched up her button nose and leaned over to play with the radio, searching through the stations until she found one playing Jumpman.
The Drake song made her think of the wall of solid muscle that had fathered her two children. She hadn't seen Tom since he'd covered for her with the lima beans while she'd gone on her “date” with Remy.
He hadn't said anything when she'd gotten home but as he'd slid past her to leave he'd dipped his head down until his lips brushed her ear and half-growled “Don't forget that you're mine.” She didn't know how to feel about those words, proprietary and pained. Possessive in ways that gripped her insides pleasurably.
She'd wanted to tell him he'd lost the right to her being his when he'd slept with Ellie. But on the other hand, those words also made her want to ask him the stay. To follow through with the promise those growled words had hinted at.
But instead she'd let him go, mouth dry as she'd stood in the doorway.
Now, she pushed him out of her mind… as much as she could, anyway… so that she could focus on whatever Remy was telling her.
“Mama Kay knows what she's doing, love. Just relax. She'll have you unbeatable in no time.”
Nero swallowed hard as the car worked its way deeper and deeper down into the bayou, swamp land filling the car up with a sulfuric scent that made her crinkle her nose up in displeasure.
The little house stood in the middle of swampy, maritime forest, a bare lightbulb illuminating it’s sagging porch. “Remy…” she tilted her head slightly. “Am I gonna leave here with both my kidneys?”
“Ya only need one, cher.” He laughed when he caught her startled gaze and tugged lightly at the end of one of the dutch braids that hung down over each shoulder. “I’m kidding, cher. You’ll leave with both kidneys and everything else you came in with too.”
He dashed around to her side of the car, swinging the door open for her and offering her his hand. Her feet, even dressed in old sneakers, sucked down into the wet ground and made a squelching noise as she walked.
She’d won her last two matches but it’d been by the skin of her teeth and just barely. With what was coming down the pike for her… a little something extra wouldn’t hurt. Or at least, that’s what Remy’d said when he’d suggested her.
He knocked twice at the rotting wood door. Nothing wood lasted too long down in the Bayou. The air was too hot and wet, it ate it up and made the wood soft.
Inside, the air was almost sickly sweet and warm, almost muggy. She felt her skin prickle uncertainly as she stepped into the cramped space. Mama Kay, he’d told her, was a mambo. A priestess who could do anything with Voodoo… she could make a lost love come back, smite someone who had injured you or… give you success. The latter was what she was after.
Maybe it was silly but Remy had been so adamant. Mama Kay could make her the greatest wrestler who had ever lived if the loa, or the gods, were on her side.
The tiny front room was full up of men and women, sitting on cushions on the floor. Their dark skin shone with sweat and anointing oils as Remy lead her inside to stand in front of the woman sitting cross legged on the wood floor. She was wrapped up in a silky looking material the color of fresh blood and her wrinkled fingertips were stained with white chalk from the symbols they’d drawn over the wood planks.
The whole thing felt just a little wrong, after all… her daddy had been a preacher and she’d been raised strict Baptist her whole life. The Bible would say not to mess with no dark forces or seek out seers or soothsayers but… she wanted to win. Remy had reminded her of that constantly with each twist and turn deeper into the Bayou when she’d started to lose her nerve.
“Mama Kay,” he said, hand finding the small of Nero’s back and pushing her forward towards the woman a few steps. “This is my friend Nero. She the one I told you ‘bout.”
The Creole twang had grown thicker in Remy’s voice when they’d walked into this room teeming with bodies and sweat and that sweet smell of incense.
Mama Kay nodded to a place in the corner, the only available floor space and Nero let Remy lead her over to it. When they were safely in the shadows, she leaned over, biting her lip nervously. “Um… Rem… I'm not so sure this ish a good idea…”
He shushed her. “All these people is here for you, cher. If it can be done the loa can do it.”
Mama Kay was standing now, her wrinkled face lifted to the sky as she said a few words in a moaned, creole French that Nero couldn't understand. Her face reminded Nero of a rotting crabapple, beginning to fold in on itself and crinkle up.
“I k-know but maybe…”
Remy shushed her again and Nero stared down at the floor, alone with her sudden fear. After all, she'd been raised to know better than to dabble in things she didn't understand. Dark things like the voodoo ritual she'd someone been talked into participating in.
Was her desire to win so great that she'd jump into something like this without a backward look? Growing up, her daddy had always preached that pride goeth before the fall and well… she couldn't help but think he mighta been right. Her pride had lead her to this darkened room where there were people moaning chants in a language she didn't understand and she'd grown up in the bayou where stories of possession and demons were rampant. She still wasn't sure how much of it she believed but enough that she was absolutely terrified in that moment.
“Bring the girl forward…” Mama Kay intoned and Remy leaped to his feet, taking Nero's hand and dragging her forward with him.
-------------
“Am I possessed?” A small voice croaked from the backseat.
Remy leaned over and grinned at her. “Probably not, cher”
“Good… wait, only probably not?!” she squeaked, struggling to sit up. She didn't remember much about what had happened after Mama Kay had dotted anointing oil on her forehead and she was ninety percent sure that at some point everyone had worn a goat head, which made her terribly sad.
“Probably not.” Remy repeated, no less reassuring than he'd been when he said it the first time. “Now we gotta see if it works.”
Nero crinkled her nose. “I hope so. I'm just… so tired of barely squeaking out a win or getting it cuz of someone else. I just wanna be good enough so people stop looking at me like I'm a joke or stealing my clothes in the locker room.”
“Well, to be fair, cher… Molly's clothes were stolen first. You ain't calling Good Golly Miss Molly a joke, are you?”
Nero shakes her head so hard that it makes her a little dizzy. “Nuuuu, definitely not. But Mr. Tony thinks I'm a joke and Mr. Brandon didn't even want me to come back to HKW and…” Nero trails off, pouting as she slumps down in the seat.
“So ya show ‘em, cher. The best revenge is living well. And with Mama Kay's help we’ll have you drippin’ in gold in no time. Then all them fools will be just beggin’ to carry ya boots for ya.”
Nero nodded glumly, still not one hundred percent that the ritual would work and maybe even less certain that she wasn't possessed.
“Now… let's do something with that sex hair before that big old wall of walking sex you call a baby daddy thinks I been dipping into his honey jar.”
Nero scowled as she climbed over into the front seat, letting Remy smooth her hair into something less messy. “I'm not anyone's ‘honey jar’ whatever that means. I keep telling you we aren't together.”
Even as she said it, she wasn't sure she meant it. Some part of her would always love Tom, whether she wanted to or not.
“Whatever you say, kitten.”
And obviously, Remy didn't buy it either.
“You liked winning, didn't you?” he drawled in his soft Creole accent, a voice that made her think about crawfish boils and hot summer days.
“Well, yeah…” Nero scrunched up her button nose and leaned over to play with the radio, searching through the stations until she found one playing Jumpman.
The Drake song made her think of the wall of solid muscle that had fathered her two children. She hadn't seen Tom since he'd covered for her with the lima beans while she'd gone on her “date” with Remy.
He hadn't said anything when she'd gotten home but as he'd slid past her to leave he'd dipped his head down until his lips brushed her ear and half-growled “Don't forget that you're mine.” She didn't know how to feel about those words, proprietary and pained. Possessive in ways that gripped her insides pleasurably.
She'd wanted to tell him he'd lost the right to her being his when he'd slept with Ellie. But on the other hand, those words also made her want to ask him the stay. To follow through with the promise those growled words had hinted at.
But instead she'd let him go, mouth dry as she'd stood in the doorway.
Now, she pushed him out of her mind… as much as she could, anyway… so that she could focus on whatever Remy was telling her.
“Mama Kay knows what she's doing, love. Just relax. She'll have you unbeatable in no time.”
Nero swallowed hard as the car worked its way deeper and deeper down into the bayou, swamp land filling the car up with a sulfuric scent that made her crinkle her nose up in displeasure.
The little house stood in the middle of swampy, maritime forest, a bare lightbulb illuminating it’s sagging porch. “Remy…” she tilted her head slightly. “Am I gonna leave here with both my kidneys?”
“Ya only need one, cher.” He laughed when he caught her startled gaze and tugged lightly at the end of one of the dutch braids that hung down over each shoulder. “I’m kidding, cher. You’ll leave with both kidneys and everything else you came in with too.”
He dashed around to her side of the car, swinging the door open for her and offering her his hand. Her feet, even dressed in old sneakers, sucked down into the wet ground and made a squelching noise as she walked.
She’d won her last two matches but it’d been by the skin of her teeth and just barely. With what was coming down the pike for her… a little something extra wouldn’t hurt. Or at least, that’s what Remy’d said when he’d suggested her.
He knocked twice at the rotting wood door. Nothing wood lasted too long down in the Bayou. The air was too hot and wet, it ate it up and made the wood soft.
Inside, the air was almost sickly sweet and warm, almost muggy. She felt her skin prickle uncertainly as she stepped into the cramped space. Mama Kay, he’d told her, was a mambo. A priestess who could do anything with Voodoo… she could make a lost love come back, smite someone who had injured you or… give you success. The latter was what she was after.
Maybe it was silly but Remy had been so adamant. Mama Kay could make her the greatest wrestler who had ever lived if the loa, or the gods, were on her side.
The tiny front room was full up of men and women, sitting on cushions on the floor. Their dark skin shone with sweat and anointing oils as Remy lead her inside to stand in front of the woman sitting cross legged on the wood floor. She was wrapped up in a silky looking material the color of fresh blood and her wrinkled fingertips were stained with white chalk from the symbols they’d drawn over the wood planks.
The whole thing felt just a little wrong, after all… her daddy had been a preacher and she’d been raised strict Baptist her whole life. The Bible would say not to mess with no dark forces or seek out seers or soothsayers but… she wanted to win. Remy had reminded her of that constantly with each twist and turn deeper into the Bayou when she’d started to lose her nerve.
“Mama Kay,” he said, hand finding the small of Nero’s back and pushing her forward towards the woman a few steps. “This is my friend Nero. She the one I told you ‘bout.”
The Creole twang had grown thicker in Remy’s voice when they’d walked into this room teeming with bodies and sweat and that sweet smell of incense.
Mama Kay nodded to a place in the corner, the only available floor space and Nero let Remy lead her over to it. When they were safely in the shadows, she leaned over, biting her lip nervously. “Um… Rem… I'm not so sure this ish a good idea…”
He shushed her. “All these people is here for you, cher. If it can be done the loa can do it.”
Mama Kay was standing now, her wrinkled face lifted to the sky as she said a few words in a moaned, creole French that Nero couldn't understand. Her face reminded Nero of a rotting crabapple, beginning to fold in on itself and crinkle up.
“I k-know but maybe…”
Remy shushed her again and Nero stared down at the floor, alone with her sudden fear. After all, she'd been raised to know better than to dabble in things she didn't understand. Dark things like the voodoo ritual she'd someone been talked into participating in.
Was her desire to win so great that she'd jump into something like this without a backward look? Growing up, her daddy had always preached that pride goeth before the fall and well… she couldn't help but think he mighta been right. Her pride had lead her to this darkened room where there were people moaning chants in a language she didn't understand and she'd grown up in the bayou where stories of possession and demons were rampant. She still wasn't sure how much of it she believed but enough that she was absolutely terrified in that moment.
“Bring the girl forward…” Mama Kay intoned and Remy leaped to his feet, taking Nero's hand and dragging her forward with him.
-------------
“Am I possessed?” A small voice croaked from the backseat.
Remy leaned over and grinned at her. “Probably not, cher”
“Good… wait, only probably not?!” she squeaked, struggling to sit up. She didn't remember much about what had happened after Mama Kay had dotted anointing oil on her forehead and she was ninety percent sure that at some point everyone had worn a goat head, which made her terribly sad.
“Probably not.” Remy repeated, no less reassuring than he'd been when he said it the first time. “Now we gotta see if it works.”
Nero crinkled her nose. “I hope so. I'm just… so tired of barely squeaking out a win or getting it cuz of someone else. I just wanna be good enough so people stop looking at me like I'm a joke or stealing my clothes in the locker room.”
“Well, to be fair, cher… Molly's clothes were stolen first. You ain't calling Good Golly Miss Molly a joke, are you?”
Nero shakes her head so hard that it makes her a little dizzy. “Nuuuu, definitely not. But Mr. Tony thinks I'm a joke and Mr. Brandon didn't even want me to come back to HKW and…” Nero trails off, pouting as she slumps down in the seat.
“So ya show ‘em, cher. The best revenge is living well. And with Mama Kay's help we’ll have you drippin’ in gold in no time. Then all them fools will be just beggin’ to carry ya boots for ya.”
Nero nodded glumly, still not one hundred percent that the ritual would work and maybe even less certain that she wasn't possessed.
“Now… let's do something with that sex hair before that big old wall of walking sex you call a baby daddy thinks I been dipping into his honey jar.”
Nero scowled as she climbed over into the front seat, letting Remy smooth her hair into something less messy. “I'm not anyone's ‘honey jar’ whatever that means. I keep telling you we aren't together.”
Even as she said it, she wasn't sure she meant it. Some part of her would always love Tom, whether she wanted to or not.
“Whatever you say, kitten.”
And obviously, Remy didn't buy it either.