Biloxi Native Chronicles: Closet of Skeletons

By Larondis Crawford

Larondis Crawford comes from Biloxi, Mississippi. He has written several novels such as Changing Faces and The Negative Suit, which are to be released soon. He is a teacher, standup comedian, motivational speaker, and currently works as a marine painting specialist in the Eastern Seaboard of Virginia, where he lives also.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662463372

Book preview

Chapter 1

Canary Faccenetti

Cape Verde

Mother, it’s time you came back to Biloxi. Canary hand-ironed wrinkles from her dress as she sat next to her mother on an overly cushioned sofa.

Canary, there are so many horror stories there. My husband was gunned down in that place, for Christ’s sake. The elegant woman crossed her left leg over the other. Over the years, she took the best kind of care of herself. Except for the crow’s feet that etched the corner of her eyes, Evelyn had not aged a bit. You never have been so anxious for me to come back to the States. What’s different now? Is Cape Verde too rich for my daughter’s blood? She eyed her daughter inquisitively over Cartier frames.

No. I love these western islands of Africa. I have a boyfriend. And— Canary stated before her mother cut into her words.

A boyfriend? How could I have missed that when your hips and butt are filling out as they have? Evelyn giggled; a joy centered her eyes. I must meet him at once.

Yes! You should. He is a great guy. We’ve been seeing each other for years. I think you ought to meet him. Canary’s excitement showed for the first time since she crossed the Atlantic. I think he’s the one, Mom. I… I love him. She raised her brows sheepishly. She never disclosed this much to her mother about a courtship before, never even spoke of her past relationship until it was over.

Give me a few weeks. Evelyn’s Mississippian drawl was gone—forever. Since her husband’s death, she had distanced herself from everything linking to her past…even her native tongue. The pain of losing Charles was fresh on her heart after twenty long years. Celibacy was easier than falling for someone who could potentially hurt her as Charles did when he died. She downed the tea in her glass before redirecting the conversation, I have a few appointments with realtors. I may sound crazy for what I’m about to say, but I’m excited about this new place I saw on the other side of the islands. Evelyn closed herself into a bottle where purchasing extravagant homes, boats, and cottages made her happy, as if the work she did as a journalist for Cape Verde’s most elusive newspaper were not enough to enclose her thoughts around when she was not out tossing fire to old cash from the eighties.

Mom, this is the third cottage you purchased in the past two years. These people on Africa’s west coast don’t want to see you in every neighborhood they move to.

Canary could not hold back her laughter. Her mother followed with a lovely cackle of her own. Evelyn, you will have to let one of these cottages go. There is no way you can break down into three people and live in them all. Canary called her mother by her first name like a sister.

Evelyn pulled and fingered a strand of hair from over her brow.

I’ll sell one soon enough. But don’t spoil my moment, dear. Since your father died… Evelyn seemed to say that a lot more these days. I have fallen into this hobby of property investing. They will be worth a pot full of money in a few years.

Canary knew that her mother secretly licked the unhealed wound of losing her soulmate by seeking out and buy her international treasures. Mother, come back home for a few weeks. I want to see how you fare with my man. Canary tucked her feet under her body and settled her bottom on them like they were eggs in a nest. Although I must warn you, he is not the Harvard or Yale graduate that you told me about when I was a girl. But he is the best! I promise.

Evelyn smiled at her daughter. Love was written all over Canary’s face. I will be there to inspect this mystery man. She scooted closer to her daughter and clasped her hands around Canary’s. So where did you meet?

New York, Manhattan, Fifth Avenue, said Canary.

Evelyn lived in the moment as her daughter spoke endlessly about her first love.

Chapter 2

AG

Biloxi

Back in the States, twenty-three hours later, AG had the wind at his back as he leaned on the balcony of his beach home. Glad you’re back, beautiful. How was your trip to Africa? He spoke into his iPhone, looking at her on its screen.

Oh, God, it was great! Canary leaped to answer. She did not allow a pause to enter their conversation. My mother is doing fine. She’s so caught up with buying all this property over there. At least we’ll have a place to shack up when we go to Africa, Canary said eloquently, releasing a lovely grin.

AG smiled at the thought of shacking up with her. She had been gone for two weeks; the thought of exotic shacking in Africa did something to him.

She’ll be here in a couple of weeks. Evelyn is crazy about meeting you. I told her you went to Harvard.

Harvard? I ain’t been to no Harvard. What made you say that? AG held his cellular in front of him. Canary’s lips twisted before bursting into laughter. She saw AG’s worried face crawl onto the screen. A tear fell from her hazel eyes.

I’m just kidding, silly. She always wanted me to date Ivy Leaguers, Canary said from her office desk. Gary Magee, Canary’s assistant, handed her a file that was titled Pearls of Madison.

AG strolled back into his home leaving the beach at his sliding glass door. A cool breeze followed him in. Sorry to disappoint your mother’s expectations, he said into his phone.

Canary’s eyes stayed on the file her assistant handed her. Uh. Hun, I’d love to chat, but I have trial prep. I’ll try to be done before supper. I can snag something from Mary Mahoney’s on the way home. She thumbed through the thick file on her desk.

Handle your business, babe. Try to have some reserved energy. I want you to have a look at this jazz and comedy lounge I’m building off the beach. See you after a while. Muah! He kissed her through the phone.

Muah! Canary’s lips enlarged on his phone’s screen before she signed off. While she and AG sent kisses through the phone, Gary signaled that she had a call on line two.

It’s Mr. McDowell, he whispered. A sticky pad in his hand had a scribbled circle, two dots, and an upside-down smiley face.

Rodney, how are you? Canary rebounded the call from him of her desk with a flick of the wrist.

Ms. Faccenetti, these drillers slowed my business down the first time they started drilling. We all know what happened then. Rodney McDowell skipped the pleasantries, pleading his case to his attorney. That explosion on Gulf costed me millions. I make money when I sell creatures from the Gulf of Mexico. My customers are delighted to know that their seafood is from the Gulf. Now these mindless buffoons are threatening my brand, bringing their rigs back in these waters. We’re still cleaning oil from the sand off our beaches down here in Biloxi. Whose idea is it for European oil drillers to dig on American soil? This is a freaking conspiracy! Their out to shortchange our angling enterprises in the south.

Canary waited for him to finish before she began.

I assure you, Mr. McDowell, this is only speculative information. After that explosion in 2010, there were sanctions set in place to ensure high-end anglers, such as yourself, will not have to sift through oil-littered waters to make a living. Don’t worry, Rodney. If they try an act like that again, you will own a healthy stake in their oil company.

Rodney scratched over his left brow and sat down. Thanks, doll. I’ll get this through to my constituents, he added appreciatively, ending the call. With news like that, he wanted a second underwater problem to emerge. Owning oil rigs was far more lucrative than owning fishing boats. He hung up the phone armed with a confidence that only a powerful attorney could impart to her client.

Canary opened the file on her desk for Pearls of Madison then gasped at what she saw.

Chapter 3

Gator

On the other side of Biloxi, AG hit the highway headed north, maneuvering through the noon day traffic, then parked between two up-to-date Suburbans. His Rover fit the dark outfit of the other vehicles in the packed convention center’s parking lot. Brandishing his ID, Alonzo Godson entered the event.

Posters with Gator’s face were waving like flags over heads. The nation’s red, white, and blue banners waved the power that backed the gathering.

AG found his seat as Gator strove to the podium. Good afternoon, Hattiesburg. The crowd responded in a mild roar of cheers, a sea of cell phones snapped photos, and hands banged together. It’s great to serve this Great State of Mississippi. More hands clapped as many hoisted smiley-faced posters. This election season is like no other. The difference maker is etched around the discord among the parties. Ladies and gentlemen, our fight is greater that which political wing we should ride on—left or right. Here in the state of Mississippi, our schools have been left out of the conversations on Capitol Hill. Our children are lacking the competitive edge on the academic realm. I only hear places like Massachusetts, New York, California, and Connecticut recorded on the news bulletins as ‘FORERUNNERS’ of American education. Oh! What about Mississippi? he shouted at the top of his lungs. The crowded convention center went berserk. The crowd roared their approval with applause and cheers. When the people settled back in their seats, he reiterated in a low solemn tone. What about… Mississippi? Are our little ones worthy of top education—the real competitive edge? With me in office, ladies and gentlemen, of this wonderful state, I plan to unite us. Plug our humble dwellings into the conversations of Washington. At this point, every sentence he said was followed by applause. Our industries, our education, our kids, our communities!

A white farmer stood in overalls and bellowed, Amen… Preach, brother!

Gator flipped a leaflet of his notes and went on to tell Mississippi why they needed a new voice in Senate. A voice that would sound off for helping farmers, making jobs, and bettering education, thus reducing the poverty rate. His words were so poetic to some that tears spilled from their eyes. Many in the Hattiesburg Convention Center had never voted for a senator before. But the word that Gator’s run for office had become a widespread echo throughout the state, especially in the minority and lower income communities. As he lectured from his notes, the crowd in Hattiesburg were as one: Hopeful that he would be in office to help their individual needs.

Make it plain! a patron from Wiggins pronounced with a twig hanging from her lips. Another round of hand claps was passed around.

AG observed how powerful of a speaker Gator truly was. He too was moved, especially when Gator ended his oration with, We can accomplish more together than we can alone. May God bless America, this campaign, and may God bless Mississippi. His diverse gatherers agreed waving banners, whistling, and rising to a standing ovation.

*****

AG sat at the end of a long, high-glossed mahogany table. His associates planted in plush leather seats, associates bequeathed to him by his father. Gator twisted the cap off a bottle of Norwegian water.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now. Gator tossed his elect grin to his conglomerates. We still have an uphill battle ahead of us. But we did knock ’em dead up there in Hattiesburg. He laughed. The top button of his shirt was undone and his tie gone. Each of the powerful men and women in the room had arm sleeves rolled up, ties loosened, and eyeglasses pushed down to the bridge of their nose. Relaxation came easily after the momentary victory Gator brought to their secret society. We still have Jackson, Meridian, and Clarksdale to cover over the next few days. And you know that the heart of Clarksdale doesn’t take to kindly to the thought of black men in office, Gator reminded with discontent.

The three white men looked up from their notes. The one with the small head and large bifocals raised his pen. This whole state—black and white—can’t resist the truth that we will build the economy. Poor folks are on every end of the race stick. Just leave Clarksdale to me. I’ll do some footwork before you come to town. I hope that they don’t think that their skin will make right our educational and industrial woes—the two ingredients needed to stifle the poverty rate in Mississippi. He shook the pen as one trying to move the ink to its ballpoint then wrote vigorously on a blue notepad. The others nodded their approval. I will go find out what Clarksdale wants most, and Gator will bring in to ’em.

This secret outfit was of the very proficient cloth, cut from unsavory backgrounds and single-parented homes whom AG’s father saw potential in then posted into his organization. His secret organization for building generational wealth for have-nots had never considered this line of thinking before Alonzo Godson Sr. introduced it to them. Now they were an indivisible force to be reckoned with.

Thank you, Ethan Suarez. Your contributions are appreciated. How are those boys of yours? Gator homed in on the scrawny fellow. They’re great. We have had talks around opening one of those Buffalo wild wings sports bar franchises in downtown Biloxi. We’re still in the speculative stage, but the boys are growing up with expansion on their minds—that’s a God-give of its own. Coming from where I come from. The guy with the thick glasses beamed. He loved what he’d been able to impart to his family after he had become a silent partner with the Gulf Coast Brethren, far from where he thought he would be if Big G left him to fend for himself in the rough trailer parks of 1983. Ethan Suarez was most elated for AG’s seeing potential in him as well. Ethan’s loyalty resided with Big G and the Gulf Brethren.

Hopefully we can persuade more families to consider taking on such investments with their offspring… I love it. Judge Phillip Brimage spoke from the heart then fiddled with leaflets of a spiral binder.

But let’s rest in the small victory in Hattiesburg for now. Clarksdale will have its turn to assess our candidate. My father is up there smiling today. I know it, feel it in my bones. AG waited for smiles and nods to subside before he added, Y’all seem to have things under control here. I have another engagement to tend to before the sun goes down. Unless we have any other issues to address. AG looked about his constituents. No one moved. I’ll see y’all later. With that he scooped his folder, which read, Jeevus Gatorian, Change We Can Use! He excused himself from the long table of millionaires. His father’s men each gave a smile and nod to their boss, the boss they helped raise.

Chapter 4

AG

AG stopped by City Hall first. He exited just before they closed for the day. A large series of rolled up papers bobbled under his arm. He tossed them into the passenger seat. They rolled onto the rover’s floor when he pulled in front of his brother’s convenient store. Hey, Clarence. AG greeted the man behind the counter.

Mr. Alonzo, the young cashier said. It’s good see’n you around these parts.

Same…same, AG said, casually strolling over to the freezer section of the place. Do y’all still have those small baggies of rose petals in the ice box? AG held one of the refrigerator doors open in search of the little boxes.

They next to the Wild Irish Rose, beneath the Thunderbird, Clarence said, putting down a novel written by one of the locals who changed his life while in prison.

AG chuckled at the thought of rose petals next to wine bottles he recalled being broken in Bayou Augustus public housing when he was a boy. AG took his item to the counter. The black-and-red cover of the open novel that read Biloxi Native caught his attention. The author placed a small stand of twelve novels, spine out, on the check-out counter—a quick buy for the in-and-out consumer. What’s that about? AG inquired of the book.

The cashier beamed. You read books too?

AG threw him a look like Who doesn’t?

The cashier touched the title of the open book on the counter. This one’s about a son who is to inherit all that his father built in life…even his sins. This is really one of the best novels I ever read. And the author is from right here…born in Biloxi. A courageous smile spread across the man’s face.

AG took it all in. Well, how many do you have left on that kiosk there? Maybe I can support the brother.

Like ten.

I’ll take ’em all. The brother is trying to do right. Yep! I’ma support him. AG nodded, understanding that contributions from peers are the ones most sought after yet the hardest to come by.

AG left the store with a sack of books and a pouch of rose petals. He was en route to Canary’s place. Over the years, he had earned the key to her humble abode. She had already handed over the keys to her heart, keys AG vowed never to misuse. In his eyes, Canary was of the rarest ilk—like a clover found with four leaves. The way she loved him and their bond was the unmatchable kind, seen only in movies, heard of only in songs and read about only in novels…seldom found in real life.

On the way to her place, AG phoned the human bombshell.

Hello, Canary answered.

Are you here? He snapped his cellular on its hands-free dock on the truck’s windshield; the call came through the car speakers.

Two calls in one day. I must be special, aren’t I? Canary said jokingly.

There is a slight change in plans. AG redirected the conversation. I’ll get supper since you are coming home late.

Who said I’d be late?

You did when you said that you have trial preparations. That doesn’t sound like an easy workload, he said with his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel.

Another reason Canary appreciated AG was he always listened to her. Well, since you’re getting supper, I might be home, ummmmm…eight-ish. This is Friday. Make it seven-thirty. What I can’t finish here, I’ll bring home, she reasoned.

Great. After a while, baby.

Later. Canary put her phone on its dial.

AG touched a button on his phone, and Diamonds and Pearls by Prince serenaded through the Range Rover’s speakers. AG’s fingers wrapped on the steering wheel, and his foot gave the pedal more gas. He pulled into the four-car garage. A rake, shovel, and hoe hung on tool racks. He snickered at the thought of Canary using any of the tools.

He placed the bag from Brother’s Convenience Store down on a stool. His blueprint crammed under his armpit. With the other hand, AG peeled back the drapes of her towering glass turret. Canary’s opulent lake was there. AG peeked at his watch then left the blueprint in the turret window to view the still waters outside, alone.

Moments later, the blueprint leaned against the glass, watching him sit in front of the lake, casting a reel into the water. A tackle box and bait were at either side of him.

*****

Canary parked her Benz next to his SUV. Thirteen hours at the office weighed heavily on her as she walked into the kitchen. AG greeted her with a kiss. Glad you could make it. Again, he tasted her lips then took her bags from her delicate hands.

Wash your hands, my lady, said AG wearing a blue-and-white silk pajama short set under Canary’s Welcome Home apron. She tried to speak, but AG placed a finger to her lips to hush her words. Her lips curved up to a smile as she obliged and went to wash her hands.

The aroma of lemon blackened fish swam through the air, and Canary inhaled the rich scent of garlic, spices, and tomatoes. When she came back to the dining room, The table is set, my queen, AG said, standing next to a pulled chair. Canary’s fatigue fled from her bones. She sat. The smile on her face was irreplaceable.

AG lifted a silver lid on the table. Steamed veggies. He lifted another. Blackened trout. Caught by yours truly from your lake out back. And fried rice. He lifted a final top then poured a tropical reddish liquid into her glass. This is strawberry lemonade. That batch I had my grandma make for us.

Fingers of the fire on the candle centering the table waved at the ceiling, etching romantic shadows on the walls.

Canary pulled AG to her. This is a kiss. She planted a wet kiss on his lips then pulled the other chair next to her for him. She smiled at her apron wrapped around her man. Who could be so lucky as she was? So you cut, cleaned, and baked my fish? Someplace between her words was a seductive sound.

They seemed not able to get enough of that bait. This big boy leaped on my hook too. AG kissed Canary’s hand. Her smile would not subside from her face. It was true…she was hooked.

They ate. Canary tossed her napkin on her empty plate. That really hit the spot. Now where is that blueprint of your comedy lounge? Is this all about your jazz spot? Canary asked, resting a palm over her filled belly.

Sort of… AG washed his throat with a long swig of strawberry lemonade. But it’s mostly about you. Let’s discuss this after you water that thang. Canary knew he meant bathe. He knew when to be bold and when to treat her delicately. She grinned sheepishly and accepted his extended hand. AG tossed her apron onto the table and escorted her to the master bedroom. A path of rose petals made a trail on the hardwood floor. The petals lead to the bedroom. Canary fell on AG’s neck. What’s going on, mister? AG felt her breath on his face as she spoke.

You gave me something to celebrate, AG said then opened a palm in the way she should go. I have to clean up downstairs. Get comfortable, my love. I’ll be back in a minute. He exited her grasp and the room with that.

Canary slowly undressed—one garment at a time. But when she entered the bathroom, her heart fluttered, and her mouth fell agape. Her hot tub was filled with freshly run water. A few rose petals sank into the thick bubbles, like footprints in snow. AG had run the water just before she came in from work. Canary peeled the remainder of her work dress down her round thighs. To her surprise, the water was the perfect temperature. A red petal floated onto her right breast once she settled in the hot tub. It was the small things like these that Canary would forever remember.

AG appeared at the door with his hands in the pocket of his pajama shorts shortly after. His lady looked so at peace with her eyes closed. Bubbles hid her secrets. You look so at peace in there, doll baby, said AG over a glass fluke in his hand.

I am, Canary sang, giving herself completely to the therapeutic moment.

I wish I hadn’t bathed earlier… AG started.

You can, she invited in a creamy voice, a sound AG would love to hear wrapped around his favorite love song. He strode over to her. The tiger on his Versace shirt fell freely on his toned chest as he picked up the vanity stool at the foot of the tub. I know those heels have been killing you all day. Let me see. With a hand, AG fished under the water. Canary giggled, childlike.

Stop that. That tickles.

AG’s hand emerged from the water with a small foot wiggling like a fish in his hand. His fingers kneaded her ankles and toes. The sensation his thumbs gave the bottom of her foot made Canary pant a sound that subdued AG. He began to suck on the wiggly toes. Canary closed her eyes as the temperature between her legs turned up a notch. He freed her foot and captured the other. Canary’s laughter, followed by pleasurable pants, escaped her lips.

Hmmmm… AG hummed, freeing her other foot with a kiss. How was your day?

Wouldn’t it have been more appropriate if you asked that earlier? Canary said, pursing her lips.

Maybe.

Well, it was a long one. I have this client who is being sued for a slip-and-fall suit. He has reason to believe that there are a team of competitors working behind the scenes. But he can’t prove it thus far. Things like that can ruin his brand. I can’t tell you too much without breaching attorney-client confidentiality codes, she said forthcoming.

Your work is always interesting. And how you stick to the code. Everybody doesn’t have a woman able to stick to the code, he teased.

Canary plucked bubbles at him then lifted a leg over the edge of the tub. And your job is important also, she countered seductively.

AG threw two rose petals at her from his pocket, smiling like a boy holding a secret. Follow these and you’ll get what you are looking for. He fought every urge in his body and stood from the stool. A bulge grew in his silk pajamas.

Hey! Canary yelped. Where are you going with that? She pointed below his navel.

*****

Adorned in a mauve-colored teddy, Canary followed the trail of deep-red petals in which the man in her life left behind. She was still bowled over by how he had turned a simple trout from her lake into a romantic dinner.

The anticipation of what he had in store made her all giddy inside. When the trail ended, Canary found AG before a roaring fire in her living room. His back was to her, and two smooth stones he purchased earlier at the foot of her lake weighed on either end of the unraveled blueprint. Canary admired him for a moment as the shadow of the fire danced on him and his unrolled plan for his new venture. Her heart belonged to the man in the room. He had freed her from years in which all she had to look forward to was cases, courtrooms, and favorable verdicts. The spontaneity he brought into her world filled her with intrigue.

Are you going to come in here, or are you going to just stand there? the man of her house said without looking up from his project. Canary stepped onto a crimson rose petal, entering the room.

How did he know I was there? she thought then let her bare feet move forward onto the polished wood floor to the Persian rug before the fireplace. Just admiring my man at work. I never knew that you were familiar with reading blueprints. She moved the conversation back to him.

Learning on the job. This is the plan for Joker’s Comedy and Jazz Lounge, he began.

Canary stood next to him, smelling of nectar and honey.

What do you think about this part? AG pointed to a highlighted red circle on the blueprint. "I added this to the floor plan just last week. It’s a place in front of the stage where couples can get married. To be