Bayou Babes
Lonely Ladies League
Riley Blake
Chapter One
“I’m not believing this.” Gertie took a firmer hold of Sinful’s Daily News. “Listen to this garbage.” She cleared her throat. “Bayou Babes will begin filming sometime next month but as the icy-blue haired ladies stepped out of their limousine yesterday afternoon, the cameras were rolling.”
Ida Belle broke a green bean in half. “Guess someone forgot to mention that our lives are being portrayed as fiction.”
“What do you mean by ‘our’ lives?” Gertie’s little head jerked back and forth. Her eyes shifted left to right as she repositioned her glasses and read the rest of the article to herself.
I poured another cup of coffee and butted my hips against the counter. “This should be good.” Ida Belle had clearly failed to mention what we’d discovered the day before. We’d taken her corvette out for a spin and landed at Francine’s for lunch. The whole café had been abuzz with the news.
Sinful was set to become the next Forks or Bodega Bay. All things considered, Bodega had my vote.
“Ida Belle, tell me you didn’t know about this.”
“I didn’t know about it.”
“But of course you did.” Gertie threw her arm over the back of the chair. “And you? If you knew about this, enjoy your side of revenge when I serve it to you cold.”
“Gertie—”
“Don’t even try it, Fortune.” She held up her hand. “And remember this—I have Carter LeBlanc on speed dial.”
Ida Belle released a girlish whimper which sounded downright wicked coming from her. “You should call him, but for another reason altogether.”
My skin heated whenever Carter LeBlanc was within bantering distance. We couldn’t get along for more than fifty-nine seconds. It was the main reason we’d kept things platonic.
“Can’t you see the two of them cuddled up at the drive-in?” Gertie laughed. “Carter would use that husky voice he reserves for Fortune and say something like, ‘You can scoot a little closer’ and our friend here would balk at that while squealing, ‘I’m only here because Gertie and Ida Belle threatened my life’ and by the way, that’s what we should do.”
“Leave me out of this,” Ida Belle said. “You’re seventy-three and—”
“Two. I’m seventy-two.”
Ida Belle tossed beans in a pot. “Age doesn’t matter when you’re over-the-mountain. Besides, I was about to say that you’ve stayed single all these years. If Fortune decides to do the same, you can’t fault her for that.”
“I’m not faulting anyone.” Gertie grinned. “And I’m not letting her walk in my footsteps either.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of coffee. After deciding I’d had enough caffeine to jumpstart a dead man’s heart, I dumped the rest in the sink and rinsed out my mug. “I need to…garden.” As if they’d buy that one. “Since I don’t want to hear second-handed information, I’ll go ahead and tell you the best part—Rumor has it that Celia Arceneaux arranged to have the television show produced right here in Sinful.”
“She what?” Gertie came undone.
“Since when do you garden?” Ida Belle asked, still stuck on that.
“She doesn’t,” Gertie muttered, wadding up the newspaper like it was an eight-by-ten document. “As for Celia? Someone should’ve fed her to the Bayou ages ago.”
“Gertie!” Sometimes I worried about Gertie. She must’ve been a real firecracker in her day.
“I can almost picture a large gator swimming for her now.” She didn’t crack a smile.
Ida Belle and Celia were die-hard rivals but Gertie spent a lot of time hurling stones her way. Celia was credited for leading the Catholics to a month-long victory in the weekly
Lonely Ladies League
Riley Blake
Chapter One
“I’m not believing this.” Gertie took a firmer hold of Sinful’s Daily News. “Listen to this garbage.” She cleared her throat. “Bayou Babes will begin filming sometime next month but as the icy-blue haired ladies stepped out of their limousine yesterday afternoon, the cameras were rolling.”
Ida Belle broke a green bean in half. “Guess someone forgot to mention that our lives are being portrayed as fiction.”
“What do you mean by ‘our’ lives?” Gertie’s little head jerked back and forth. Her eyes shifted left to right as she repositioned her glasses and read the rest of the article to herself.
I poured another cup of coffee and butted my hips against the counter. “This should be good.” Ida Belle had clearly failed to mention what we’d discovered the day before. We’d taken her corvette out for a spin and landed at Francine’s for lunch. The whole café had been abuzz with the news.
Sinful was set to become the next Forks or Bodega Bay. All things considered, Bodega had my vote.
“Ida Belle, tell me you didn’t know about this.”
“I didn’t know about it.”
“But of course you did.” Gertie threw her arm over the back of the chair. “And you? If you knew about this, enjoy your side of revenge when I serve it to you cold.”
“Gertie—”
“Don’t even try it, Fortune.” She held up her hand. “And remember this—I have Carter LeBlanc on speed dial.”
Ida Belle released a girlish whimper which sounded downright wicked coming from her. “You should call him, but for another reason altogether.”
My skin heated whenever Carter LeBlanc was within bantering distance. We couldn’t get along for more than fifty-nine seconds. It was the main reason we’d kept things platonic.
“Can’t you see the two of them cuddled up at the drive-in?” Gertie laughed. “Carter would use that husky voice he reserves for Fortune and say something like, ‘You can scoot a little closer’ and our friend here would balk at that while squealing, ‘I’m only here because Gertie and Ida Belle threatened my life’ and by the way, that’s what we should do.”
“Leave me out of this,” Ida Belle said. “You’re seventy-three and—”
“Two. I’m seventy-two.”
Ida Belle tossed beans in a pot. “Age doesn’t matter when you’re over-the-mountain. Besides, I was about to say that you’ve stayed single all these years. If Fortune decides to do the same, you can’t fault her for that.”
“I’m not faulting anyone.” Gertie grinned. “And I’m not letting her walk in my footsteps either.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of coffee. After deciding I’d had enough caffeine to jumpstart a dead man’s heart, I dumped the rest in the sink and rinsed out my mug. “I need to…garden.” As if they’d buy that one. “Since I don’t want to hear second-handed information, I’ll go ahead and tell you the best part—Rumor has it that Celia Arceneaux arranged to have the television show produced right here in Sinful.”
“She what?” Gertie came undone.
“Since when do you garden?” Ida Belle asked, still stuck on that.
“She doesn’t,” Gertie muttered, wadding up the newspaper like it was an eight-by-ten document. “As for Celia? Someone should’ve fed her to the Bayou ages ago.”
“Gertie!” Sometimes I worried about Gertie. She must’ve been a real firecracker in her day.
“I can almost picture a large gator swimming for her now.” She didn’t crack a smile.
Ida Belle and Celia were die-hard rivals but Gertie spent a lot of time hurling stones her way. Celia was credited for leading the Catholics to a month-long victory in the weekly
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