Maison D’Amour by Lucian Bane

CHAPTER ONE

“Settle down,” Mah-Mah fussed from her place at the table. “I swear y’all are a bunch of nine-year olds at a bat-tie.”

Beth hid her smile while glancing at Bishop across the table from her as a heavy DeJa’Vu hit her. It was just like the first meeting they had there. Maybe it had something to do with the way he watched her with that boiling look in his dark, threatening eyes.

“We’re here to determine the particulars of The Swamp Ball,” Mah-Mah announced above The Twelve’s racket. “Lazure!”

“QUIET!”

Beth jumped at Lazure’s yell and Bishop reached across the table with a grin, calling for her hand with a flick of his fingers. She eyed him then his hand with wide eyes.

“That’s more like it,” Mah-Mah said, kissing Lazure.

Bishop looked down at his lap with a hint of a grin and her phone buzzed in her own lap. Lord, he’d sent a message. She glanced at him, finding him focused on Mah-Mah while his fingers still called her halfway across the table.

He wasn’t going to stop. She reached and put her hand in his while Mah-Mah performed roll call and her phone buzzed again. Her curiosity won over. A video. She shook her head, and he squeezed her hand twice giving her a wink and assuring brow twerk. Yeah right.

Her pulse raced when he clutched her hand tighter. She gave in and pressed the button, eyeballs instantly stuck to the screen where he jacked off. Her pulse exploded between her legs as his hand moved slowly over his shaft then jerked quickly. Her heart collapsed when his nasty moans came next. She fought to turn it off, choking on air.

“What do you think, Beth?”

She jerked her hand out of Bishops and smashed the off button on the phone. “Uhh, could you…repeat the question?” she asked, while Bishop’s grin burned the side of her face.

“I was wondering if we should start with the ball particulars or the eligible maiden picking particulars.”

Ball. Maidens. Eligible. “Right, um.” Beth pulled her notebook over and scanned the notes. “We can start with the eligible maiden picking. Then use our decisions to form the ball details.”

Mah-Mah nodded with a firm mouth. “Right as rain, I think. I’m giving Belle Eveque the floor. Let’s behave.”

She studied her plans on the paper, fighting to ignore Bishop’s hand on the table, fingers flick-calling again. He was such a dirty player. “So, we discussed putting together a list of eligible maidens that meet the criteria for becoming part of The Twelve.”

“Remind them of what that is,” Mah-Mah said quietly.

“Well, I created my list of criteria using the The Twelve’s codes.” Beth cleared her throat. “We can change anything, obviously, or add something any of you feel I missed. To start, the women would have to have a clean record. As in…the criminal kind. And medically, they’d need to be healthy and fit for bearing offspring and motherhood. Those that meet these basic criteria would then be given a standard intelligence test on various basic skills, as well as an IQ test to discover any hidden strengths. From there, we’d pick the highest scores and each of you would then select your favorite five.”

“Permission to speak.”

Beth made out the face on the screen. “Go on Patches.”

“What if we’re all physically attracted to the same girl?”

“That’s one of the items I wanted to talk about. One of you mentioned last time something about rolling Fate Dice. Maybe we can come up with a solution along those lines?”

“So how would that work with the Fate Dice?” She recognized Bacon’s voice.

“Process of elimination?” 8-Bit suggested. “We all roll. Those that roll yes remain in the process, those who roll no are eliminated. Last to roll yes wins.”

A round of murmurs ensued, amounting to agreement.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Beth said, writing it down. “And whoever rolls a No will move to their next pick option in the list. We do that till all have five unique maidens picked. Are we all in agreement?”

They gave the Yay answer this time and Beth considered the next step. “So, now we’re down to just the women you’ve all picked. At this point would come the interview where you all give me a list of things you’d want to learn that you didn’t from the application. Myself and the other women would perform the interview and you all could maybe watch from another location. Like with the Gauntlet Trials? Is that possible 8-Bit?”

“Yep.”

“And what happens at the ball, exactly?” Bacon asked.

“Uhh, I was thinking the standard ball activities. Dancing…”

An outcry broke out, requiring Mah-Mah to yell them back to silence. “Can’t we talk like mature adults?” she cried.

“So absolutely no dancing,” Beth noted on her paper. “Did any of you have anything in particular you might want to do?”

The silence that followed was almost comical.

“Well… we know what you don’t want to do,” Beth credited.

“Will there be food?” Again Bacon.

“Yes, there can be.”

“So there’s eating,” Shank said, like that was one form of entertainment taken care of.

Beth couldn’t stop her grin. “Okay, eating. And I’m thinking there can be conversation? While eating?”

This time there was a lot of low muttering that amounted to yes if we must. Hilarious.

“What about cards?”

Beth looked at the box of the speaker and saw it was Bullets. “What kind of cards?” she asked, trying not to laugh at the suggestion.

“Poker,” he said, as if it was the only card game that existed.

“You think the women would…know how?”

“They would watch,” Bullets said, convinced that was the epitome of entertainment.

“Okay,” Beth said, trying to work with them. “What if you each picked your favorite girl for a partner in a game.”

Multiple forms of no broke out among the murmurs.

“Okay so maybe another kind of game. Like…Pictionary. You can pick a partner for that.”

“The hell is Pictionary?” Traps wondered in open disdain.

“It’s a game where you’re given an item to draw, and your partner has to try and guess what you’re sketching within a time limit.”

Her breath held as silence ensued followed by half favorable mutters and grunts.

“Yes?” she asked, hopeful. “Women usually love this kind of game,” she added. “It’s quite fun, I’ve played it.”

The favorable noises turned into Yays, and she added her own “Yay” of victory, getting Bishop’s sexy chuckle.

“Okay,” Beth said. “We have eating, and a Pictionary game. I think we should just have a time of conversation between eating and the game. Maybe thirty minutes?”

She couldn’t stop her laugh this time at the silence. “I’m sorry,” she quipped.

“It is a bit hysterical how terrified these grown men are of something as simple as a conversation,” Mah-Mah said, finding it not funny at all.

“So, who all has a problem with the conversation part? We can always provide topic ideas if that’s where your concern is.”

“I have no problem talking to a woman,” Patches assured.

Traps added, “I’m not scared to talk to a woman. Just seems like an odd item to have on a list for party activities.”

Beth had never been so amused. “Why? Don’t you think it’s fun to talk to women?”

“Fun?” he echoed like she was using the wrong word or one he didn’t know the meaning of, making her laugh again. “Have you never had a fun conversation with a woman before?”

“Uhhh, yeah but not at a ball where we’re not there to…”

“Good grief,” Hurricane said. “Put conversation on the list just so I can watch this dumbass for a side show.”

“I can talk to women,” Traps assured. “I just find…lengthy conversations out of place for this. Maybe fifteen minutes at most.”

“Mother of mercy,” Bishop muttered with an eye roll that made it all funnier.     

“So eating,” Beth hurried before a fight broke out. “A fun game of Pictionary.”

“How about darts?” Lesion suggested, getting a huge favorable response.

“Now that was fun to watch,” Spar said.

“Maybe a competition between the ladies?” Traps called excited.

“I was thinking of teams,” Beth inserted.

“Men against the women?”

She deciphered a mix of favor in the noise, and Beth figured, “Maybe both? That would take at least thirty minutes maybe more and that puts us at a two-hour ball.”

“How many hours it’s gotta be?” Bacon worried.

Beth shrugged. “I mean…I suppose two hours is good but it’s not very long for so much preparation.” She had an idea. “Do we have any kind of like way to put a screen in there for maybe a movie to carry us to the end of the party? Or is that dumb?”

“Not dumb at all,” 8-Bit said. “But we do need to remember the other purpose of the Ball. We’re opening ourselves up for the intention of inviting war to our turf. We want to not plan anything that might make it difficult to act quick.”

Beths’ cheeks went up in flames. She’d totally forgot that aspect. “Right, of course.”

“But we can advertise a four-hour ball,” Bishop said. “The longer they think we’ll be distracted the more ballsy they’ll be.”

“We’ll all be waiting for any signal to move,” Spook said. “As long as the women are made aware of that, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You comin’ to the ball, podnah?” Bacon asked Spook. “Hope there’s no trouble in paradise.”

“No trouble at all,” he assured.

“So…a movie is fine,” Beth said. “As long as they know you may need to leave before it’s over.”

“And as long as it’s not a chick-flick,” Traps hard-lined.

“Or shit that makes girls cry,” Patches added, like he wasn’t that kind of doctor.

“Bro, you can carry your medicine bag and fix the boo-boos,” Bacon teased. “Dab them tears with some gauze.”

They were all chuckling now, and Beth cut in, “How about just an interesting movie. Like a mystery, or something with a crime to solve?”

She was met with great favor and wrote it down. “So, we have the Yays on a crime type mystery movie. I’ll come up with some selections and you can do what you to decide.” She considered then. “How about I let you pick a list of options and give it the women to select? That way you’re getting their input. You wouldn’t want them nodding off during the movie.”

“Just so she don’t drool on me,” Bacon muttered.

“Or snore in my ear,” Shank warned lowly.

“Just to remind about some important details,” 8-Bit said. “Every entryway into the swamp will be under heavy surveillance. We want all Swamp Dragons nearby for when I’m alerted of movement. That’ll put us on location way before the enemy gets near anything important.”

“And with the ball being held in the location it is,” Spook added. “Makes it that much easier to get to any action.”

“I vote we install new tracking on the wives, something under the skin,” 8-Bit said, getting Beth’s stomach’s attention.

“Yes,” Bishop concurred with a hard tone. “Maybe hide it in a tattoo. A Property seal that matches The Twelve with the name of their husband.”

“H-how big?” Beth couldn’t help but ask.

“Can be a miniature version of the one we have on our backs,” Bishop said. “On her shoulder.”

“I’ll get in touch with Big Inkz and have him design it immediately,” 8-Bit said. “We can have the trackers implanted and inked at the same time.”

“Ouch,” Beth whispered.

“You won’t feel it,” Lesion said, his certainty removing ninety-percent of her worry.  

“What about our newest member?” Nitro asked.

Bishop clasped his hands behind his head. “You meaning Ruckus?”

Beth eyed the muscles in his arms, getting another flutter in her stomach from the delicious distraction he was.

“Yes. Is he staying now that he’s seen the light?”

“Oh, I hope so,” Beth said, assuming he would be. “Samuel needs him,” she couldn’t keep from saying.

Bishop winked at her. “I’ll talk to him,” he said to the rest of them. “He needs to stay if he’s helping with this war, and he’s agreed to that. We’ll handle that other bridge after it’s all done. Thinking by then bonds will have formed that he won’t want to break.”

Beth nodded, realizing he was right. “Surely.”

“Who’s babysitting him?” Nitro asked, the animosity in his tone unmistakable. Was he still upset about Gracie? Surely he wasn’t that into her so soon.

“I’d imagine his son will handle all that,” Bishop said. “In fact, Seer can take him around the Hatches so he gets a lay of the land.”

“Good idea!” Beth said, writing it down as a thought hit her. “I have to get the ads put in the Nouvelles and bring them to the Hatches…”

“You and your Aunt Gracie can be escorted by them, then,” Bishop said.

“And Cherie can come to help?” she asked.

“And Maggie and Mah-Mah and whoever else my Belle Eveque wants.”

She smiled at him, not missing the hint of guttural lilt in his voice when he called her that. “Thank you.”

“They’ll have to take the Turtle,” Lazure said.

“Well, you might as well come too,” Mah-Mah suggested to him sweetly.

At hearing the eagerness in her voice, Beth helped with, “Oh, I would love that.”

Mah-Mah shook his shoulder while he rolled his eyes. “As you wish Mah-Mah Ange,” he said, giving her a kiss that made even Beth blush. She grinned, loving how in love they were after so many years. That would be her and Bishop.

She found her own husband boiling her alive with his secret gaze again. “So… back to the ball specifics. What about dates and times?”

They all got busy working the timeline out in connection to current events. “I’d say ten days from today,” 8-Bit announced. “Gives the enemy time to make a plan. Gives us a week still before our scheduled Bat-tie?”

They all agreed while Beth checked the calendar. “Ten days would be the 28th? That falls on a Friday.”

“Perfect,” Bishop said.

“And I’m thinking 7:00 PM to 11:00 PM? For the time?” Beth suggested.

“May as well say 7:00 to midnight.”

She smiled, writing. “On the strike of midnight, the Ball shall end. I love that.”

“Just one other thing,” Spar said. “I know The Twelve have a no-touching rule for this function, but will the women have one as well? I don’t have a problem with the rule, but it’s been my experience that they do.”

This got a dramatic and hilarious round of agreement.

Mah-Mah shot out a laugh. “My lord, you’d swear they were all molested by women every time they venture in public!” Her cackling laugh followed and got Beth going too along with Bishop’s wink and extended hand on the table again.

She averted her gaze when the promising heat in his eyes threatened to undo her on the spot. “Okay, so the Ball will be held on Friday, October 28 at 7:00 PM and will end at the stroke of midnight. There will be food, conversation, Pictionary, Darts and a movie. Where should I say it’ll be located?”

“Le Grand Maison. In Nitro’s hatch,” Bishop said.

She wrote it down. “How do you spell the last word?” she whispered to him.

He put his hand next to his mouth and whispered, “Peh-oo—ess—ess—egdeck.”

“What?” she mouthed back. “Was that French?”

“Bishop, what on earth are you up to over there?” Mah-Mah called, laughter in her voice. “What do you need Belle Eveque?”

“How to spell the… Maison word.”

“Le Grand Maison means the big house,” she said. “And it’s spelled m-a-i-s-o-n.” She cast a scolding glare at Bishop. “Not sure what that hooligan spelt, and I don’t want to know.”

This got Bishop’s big laugh.

“Maison D’amour,” Lazure muttered.

Mah-Mah attacked his mouth before announcing, “As soon as this meeting is over, maybe Belle Eveque and I can get the girls to put this ad for the Nouvelle together?”

“I smell a party,” Bishop mutter-warned, getting Beth’s grin. She didn’t mind, she loved Mah-Mah’s party addiction. It was something she never had growing up and was ready to make up for it.

“And honestly,” Mah-Mah continued, “this is real cause to celebrate.” Laughter erupted at that. “Poke fun all you want,” she said. “Everybody can sleep at the main house and us ladies will put together the announcement while the men use the Basilique to make all their no-good schemes. And tomorrow, we’ll take the announcements to the Hatches.”

“You heard the lady,” Lazure surrendered. “Bring your bedspreads and cushions. We’re having a Grande Dormir.”

Mah-Mah gasped and lunged on him bringing more kissing, the kind that made Beth wonder what was up with them. Something changed in a good way. Maybe the sexual foreplay book she’d given Mah-Mah.

“There’s something called a bedroom,” Bishop announced to the love birds who seemed oblivious to their surroundings.

“Ohhh, you’re right,” Mah-Mah said, taking the hint happily.