That made him smile. “I always want to feel you, too.”
“He’s here, you know,” I told him.
“That soulless ginger on the porch, yeah?”
“Yep. So, let’s go.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. He opened the door, holding his hand out to help me step down like a true Southern gent.
Hand in sweaty hand, we made our way toward Da, who was now on his feet with a huge grin on his face.
“There’s m’ sweet lass!” he said, his voice rumbling pleasantly. Opening his arms, I rushed in for my Papa Bear hug. “Ye’re glowin’, Kenna.”
“That’s because of this man right here,” I told him, pulling out of his arms and turning back to Phil. “This is Phil Deveraux. Phil, this is my da, Sigmund.”
Phil smiled and pushed his aviators up on top of his head so that he could look my da in the eyes. “It’s great to finally meet you, sir.”
“Christ, yer a big’un,” popped out of my father’s mouth, his eyes wide.
“So I’ve been told, sir.”
Da snorted. “I’m sure ye have. What are ye? Six-six?”
“Six-seven. And you?”
“’Bout six-three? No’ even sure anymore. Come on, I got us a spot overlookin’ th’ water.”
“Sweet,” I replied, taking Phil’s hand, and leading him as we followed Da.
“So, Deveraux, eh?” Da mused as we took our seats. He sat on the far bench, his back to the water and mangroves. “No’ the same Deverauxs who got the farm behind yer gran’s?”
“Yes, sir,” Phil replied. “I’ve taken over the property since we came back.”
Da looked at me. “Well, tha’s convenient.”
“Yeah, you’re not the first one to say that,” I replied, laughing.
Dorothy, the ancient server who had worked here for quite possibly her entire one hundred and seven years, shuffled up and took our drink order—three iced teas. Da got his sweet. Her white as snow hair looked like a giant cotton ball, and her thin skin was covered with age spots, but her brown eyes were bright and clear, and she always had a smile on her face.
Phil ordered his favorite appetizer of fried alligator.
“So, Phil, ye said ye just go’ back. From where?”
“Oh, we’ve been on tour and recording for the last five years. Mostly in Europe, but we just wrapped up our final world tour in South America.”
“Kenna mentioned ye’re a musician.”
Phil nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Me son Connor is a musician, too. I’ve just worked my ass off for the last three years to put ’im through the bluidy University of Miami to teach kids the recorder—”
“Da!” I barked as I glared at my father.
“Wha’? Ye know it’s true!”
Dorothy dropped off our iced teas, and we all ordered ribs and fries with coleslaw. Slowly, she scuttled her bony rump back to the kitchen to hand over the order and wait for the alligator. It wasn’t busy in here. There were only two other people having lunch, and they were on the opposite side of the restaurant.
“What kind of music do ye play?”
“I’m the lead singer for a metal band, but we’re tryin’ out new sounds now that our contract with our record label is about to expire.”
“Kenna and Connor music then,” scoffed Da. “What’s yer range? Baritone?”
“Yes, sir.”
Da nodded. “What’s yer band’s name?”
Phil blushed slightly and squeezed my hand beneath the table. “NOLA’s Junk.”
Da perked up. “The ‘Louisiana Baby’ band?”
Phil looked a little surprised. “Yes, sir.”
“I love tha’ song. Tha’s wha’ ye sings?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wow.”
Dorothy tottered up with a massive plate of fried alligator bites and dipping sauce.
“He also plays instruments,” I volunteered this information since it seemed Phil had forgotten how to say anything other than, Yes, sir.
“Wha’ do ye play, Phil?”
Phil had just filled his face with fried alligator, and he started chewing furiously, chugging back some iced tea to wash it down. “Guitar, bass, drums, violin, and piano. My dad made sure I was classically trained.”
“Did ye train your voice, too?”
“No, sir. That happened all on its own.”
“So, I suppose ye’ve done quite well for yerself? Don’t have to worry ’boot ye takin’ advantage o’ me daughter?”
“Da!” I barked again.
“Wha’?”
“That’s rude!”
“So? I’m just makin’ sure ye’re not gonna end up supportin’ his giant arse!”
“I’m quite well off, sir,” assured Phil.
“See? He understands. ’Tis all I needed to hear.”
“I already told you that he does well enough for himself!” I hissed.
“Yeah, but I wanted tae hear it from ’im.”
Phil squeezed my hand again.
“An’ it’s no’ like I can scare the bloke—”
“I’m well and truly terrified of you, sir,” stated Phil.