Midnight Bayou

hauled him into her lap.
    It had been like being smothered by a three-hundred-pound pillow soaked in whiskey.
    By two, he was beyond amazement at the human body’s capacity for vice, and had revised any previous perception of the skill and endurance required in food-service occupations.
    He made sixty-three dollars and eighty-five cents in tips, and vowed to burn his clothes at the first opportunity.
    The place was still rolling at three, and he decided Lena hadn’t been avoiding him. Or if she had, she’d had a reasonable excuse for it.
    “What time do you close?” he asked when he carted another load toward the kitchen.
    “When people go away.” She poured bottled beer into the plastic to-go cups, handed them off.
    “Do they ever?”
    She smiled, but it was quick and distracted as she scanned the crowd. “Not so much during Mardi Gras. Why don’t you go on home, cher ? We’re going to be another hour or more in here.”
    “I stick.”
    He carried the empties into the kitchen and came back in time to see a trio of very drunk men—boys really, he noted—hitting on Lena and hitting hard.
    She was handling them, but they weren’t taking the hint.
    “If y’all want to last till Fat Tuesday, you gotta pace yourself a bit.” She set to-go cups under the taps. “Y’all aren’t driving now, are you?”
    “Hell no.” One, wearing a University of Michigan T-shirt under an avalanche of beads, leaned in. Way in. “We’ve got a place right over on Royal. Why don’t you come back there with me, baby? Get naked, take a spin in the Jacuzzi.”
    “Now, that’s real tempting, cher , but I’ve got my hands full.”
    “I’ll give you a handful,” he said and, grabbing his own crotch, had his two companions howling and hooting.
    Declan stepped forward, ran a proprietary hand over Lena’s shoulder. “You’re hitting on my woman.” He felt her stiffen under his hand, saw the surly challenge in the Michigan boy’s eyes.
    Under other circumstances, Declan thought as he sized the kid up—six-one, a toned one-ninety—he might be the type to make his bed every morning, he might visit old ladies in nursing homes. He might rescue small puppies. But right now, the boy was drunk, horny and stupid.
    To prove it, Michigan bared his teeth. “Why don’t you just fuck off? Or maybe you want to take it outside, where I can kick your ass.”
    Declan’s voice dripped with bonhomie. “Now, why would I want to go outside and fight about it, when all you’re doing here is admiring my taste? Spectacular, isn’t she? You didn’t try to hit on her, I’d have to figure you’re too drunk to see.”
    “I see just fine, fuckface.”
    “Exactly. Why don’t I buy you and your pals a drink? Honey, put those drafts on my tab.”
    Declan leaned conversationally on the bar, nodded toward the T-shirt. “Spring break? What’s your major?”
    Baffled and boozy, Michigan blinked at him. “Whatzit to ya?”
    “Just curious.” Declan slid a bowl of pretzels closer, took one. “I’ve got a cousin teaching there, English department. Eileen Brennan. Maybe you know her.”
    “Professor Brennan’s your cousin?” The surly tone had turned to surprised fellowship. “She damn near flunked me last semester.”
    “She’s tough, always scares the hell out of me. If you run into her, tell her Dec said hi. Here’s your beer.”
    I t was past four when Lena let them into her apartment over the bar. “Pretty smooth with those college jerks, cher . Smooth enough I won’t give you grief for the ‘my woman’ comment.”
    “You are my woman, you just haven’t figured it out yet. Besides, they were easy. My cousin Eileen has a rep at the U of M. Odds were pretty good he’d heard of her.”
    “Some men would’ve flexed their muscles.” She set her keys aside. “Gone on outside and rolled around in the street to prove who had the biggest dick.” Weary, she reached up to tug the beads loose as she studied him. “Iguess it’s the lawyer in you, so you just talk yourself out of a confrontation.”
    “Kid was maybe twenty-two.”
    “Twenty-one last January. I carded them.”
    “I don’t fight with kids. Plus, I really hate having bare knuckles rammed into my face. It seriously hurts.” He tipped her chin up. She looked exhausted. “Had a long one, didn’t you?”
    “Going to be a long time till Wednesday. I appreciate the help, sugar. You pulled your weight.”
    More than, she thought. The man had slid right into the