Chapter 5 Mr. Gant, Benjamin Carouse and Herbert Mouton.
With a minute to spare Charlotte pulled up into a parking space in Spicebridge three doors down from the post office. She jumped out, taking a calculated gamble that she could get away without getting a parking ticket and raced towards the post office. As she was just reaching the post office door she passed the figure of a tall man in a crumpled crème Linen suit as he strode out of his office slamming the door behind him in anger. It was Mr. Aaron Gant, it was a hot simmering afternoon and he was not in a good mood.
After collecting her parcel and placing it in the trunk of her car Charlotte walked back along the sidewalk past the post office and continued for half a block before walking into Claudine’s Kitchen, a diner with a reputation for fine food and live music most nights and for a reasonably priced Saturday and Sunday lunch menu. She looked up and down the length of the diner before spotting the people she had come to meet, she ordered a black coffee at the counter and made her way over to the table. Sitting there was young couple in their early to mid twenties. The young man was tall and well built, with dark hair olive skin and piercing green eyes, not smartly dressed but not obviously scruffy, the young lady was pretty with long dark hair and smoldering dark brown eyes. As Charlotte approached the young man stood up to greet her.
“Good afternoon Charlotte… good timing, we have only just arrived ourselves.”
He said as he pulled out a chair,Charlottesat down placing her handbag on the table in front of her.
“Hi Charlotte.”
The young woman said in a youthful cheery voice before taking a bite out of a massive burger, a burger that was stacked high with layers of alternating meat, salad and melted cheese.Charlottethough it looked larger than the young woman’s head and wondered how she got her mouth around its size.
“Hello Oscar, hello Suzanne how are you both?”
Charlotte replied as Oscar sat back down and started tucking hungrily into his steaming bowl of brown Cajun jambalaya and cornbread.
“You both hungry?”
Charlotteasked of the two young eaters who replied by nodding their heads in unison with one of them uttering between mouthfuls,
“Mmmm…, yeah…….. , starving.”
Charlottesmiled and thanked the waitress as her normal steaming cup of coffee was placed on the table.
“My pleasure Mam.”
The young waitress replied.
“Well my dear what have you been up to lately, are your studies going well?”
Charlotteasked of the waitress, stirring her coffee before taking a sip.
“Oh …, well my studies have been going really well thank you.., I am finding the course very interesting and have managed to get another article published and this time I was paid full rate for it.”
Came a proud reply from her smiling young face.
“Well you just keep up your studies and writing and you will go far.”
Charlottesaid encouragingly to the young woman, who blushed slightly but thankedCharlottefor her interest and encouraging comments before disappearing off to serve another customer.
“She’s a good girl that one.”
Charlottesaid to Suzanne and Oscar as they noisily continued devouring their large meals.
Charlotte used Claudine’s Kitchen on a reasonably regular basis and had got to know its staff quite well. The owner was a pleasant hardworking family man who was always polite and remembered everyone by name, there were three mature waitresses who were also very polite, two of them being not that talkative but the third and eldest was a Creole woman who had a very gentle voice and a different story to tell Charlotte whenever she served her. There we also one young waiter who had just finished his college education and was hoping to go to university, he was extremely talkative and from what Charlotte had gathered from chatting to him had outgrown Spicebridge and wanted to get out of town and out of state to experience life. He was always putting the world to rights with opinions on everything but she had gauged his mind was like a sponge and as soon as he escaped the small town life of Spicebridge he would flourish and be a success in whatever he chose to do. Finally there was the young waitress Rebecca who had just served her coffee; Charlotte was impressed by her worldliness, intelligence, wit, humour and eagerness to become a successful journalist. Whenever she served Charlotte she was always so bubbly, happy, full of life, interesting to talk to and hard working, if anything Charlotte was a little jealous of the girls’ youth, looks and fire in her belly, but Charlotte would not admit that to anyone let alone herself.
“So what’s new with you two?”Charlotte continued before taking another sip of her coffee and sitting back in her chair to listen.
Mr.Gant walked at a brisk pace along the sidewalk, his nose slightly in the air, chest thrust forward, looking down on the world. His face was thin and almost hawk like with red blotchy skin that contrasted vividly with his greying hair and crème suit.
Mr Gant had not had a good day; it had stated badly with a puncture caused by driving over a broken beer bottle on his way to work and from there on it had got progressively worse. On arriving twenty five minutes late to open up his real-estate consultancy, he had discovered what he could only describe as two rednecks waiting for him at his door. The man with his denim dungarees and oversized unlaced boots was slouched on the floor with his back against the door spitting out across the sidewalk. The woman standing next to him was leaning against the pristine stone masonry with one foot planted firmly against the wall behind her, the other planted firmly on the sidewalk in dirty plimsolls that in a past life may have been white, but where now a mixture of browns and again there were no shoe laces in sight. She wore dark sunglasses, the shortest skirt he had ever seen on a woman of her age and a summer top that would probably have fitted a ten year old, as she was clearly bursting out in every direction. One hand was holding a smoldering roll up cigarette lazily down by her side, whilst the other hand clamped a cell phone firmly to her ear.
As he neared the couple he caught some of the conversation that the woman was having on her phone and was instantly enraged to hear what was said by this vision of loathing.
”We bin waitin almost twenny minutes fuh this fancy real-stature man to arrive ad this fancy ol office an he ain’t even got his lazy ol butt outta bed yet….. , He sure is some kind of cooyon thinkin he can just leave us waitin for him to turn ubp. He must be some kinda hafass…., he can kiss my gallete.”
As the sentence ended Mr. Gant reached his door. Having lived in these parts for almost fifty years he knew exactly what this woman had said in the Cajun cross slang she used. He wrestled with his anger and utter distaste and drew a deep breadth. These were not even true Cajun people; they were as he saw it a mixture of years of interbreeding of what he could only describe as white trash, who affected a Cajun culture and a part of their dialect.
In his lofty opinion they where nothing but trash, the lowest kind of trash who bred like rabbits and knew how to milk the state and country of all and every kind of social benefit that had ever been invented.
“Good day sir, Good day madam he said as he approached, May I pass you and enter my office?”
Billy-Bob leapt to his feet and held out his hand, whilst Mary-Jo stubbed her cigarette out on the pristine crème coloured masonry and adjusted her top and skirt.
“Mistuh, Gant suh we’re very pleased meetin yuh, Auh is Billy-Bob an this here is Mary-Jo.”
Billy-Bob said in his politest voice, gesturing towards Mary-Jo.
Momentarily Mr Gant was taken aback, but quickly gathered his thoughts, raised his nose a little higher, pushed his chest out a little further and put his hand forward to shake the dirt and callous encrusted hand that was held before him.
“Very pleased to meet you.”
He said in a very superior and demeaning voice.
“Its Mr. and Mrs.……? “
He continued.
“I’m sorry I missed your surnames.”
“Oh no we not happied, we just livin tugether, yuh knows it’s me an Mary-Jo an the bois, an we is here for the meetin we arranged with yourne secritury an wants to tawk about ourne plans for analli-gator farm over at Lochap bayou.”
Mr Gant was stunned, these were the type of people he viewed as the lowest of the low and had come to see him to ask for his professional help in some sort of property deal or commercial venture. ‘These must be the people that called me on the phone to ask for his help’, he thought to himself. He stood rooted to the spot still holding the hand of this foul smelling, foul mouthed person, he looked momentarily at his equally distasteful and foul smelling lady, before his mind was able to return to its normal functioning.
“Oh, oh please come in.”
He quickly released the dirty hand he had grasped, motioned them towards the door as he pulled his keys from the pocket of his linen pants, unlocked the bright shiny wooden door and hurriedly ushered them inside. As his new associates walked into the reception area of his offices with him Mr. Gant scanned the street in both directions before closing the door firmly behind them all. In his mind it would do untold damage to his reputation to be seen associating with such types. In his world he associated in business and leisure with monied people, people of some standing in the community, people who were on the same social level as he saw himself, although it would probably be a fair comment that his view of his importance, ability and social standing was greatly elevated within his own mind.
Early as it was, the heat of the day was already rising quickly so Mr. Gant switched on the ceiling fans as he passed along the long hallway escorting the foul smelling couple to his office at the far end of the building. He opened the door and gestured for them to enter before he did. Even as his opinions and prejudices’ were boiling away under the surface his professional demeanour overrode his distaste and contempt. Billy-Bob and Mary-Jo walked into the vast and well appointed office with a nod of their heads to M. Gant. They were on their best behaviour and trying their hardest to act in what they would term a fancy way.
Mr. Gant closed the door behind them, walked across the room and sat down on his plush leather chair behind his expansive polished desk.
“Please have a seat.”
He gestured to them both.
“Please sit……., now how can I be of service?”
He asked.
They both took up their seats as invited and Billy-Bob launched straight into his story with Mary-Jo interjecting with the odd word or confirmation as she thought was right in the situation and to help support Billy-Bob explain what they wanted.
Fifteen minutes passed and Billy-Bob was still talking. Mr Gant glanced up at his clock, it was 9.45 am and he was due at the town zoning offices in the center of town at 10.00 am for an in depth discussion regarding one of his clients development proposals. It was not that far from his own offices, just a brisk five minutes walk but he needed some time to read over his clients’ requirements and prepare himself for the meeting, and time was slipping away. He couldn’t even hand this gabbling couple over to one of his two partners or any one of the firm’s three office juniors as they had arranged a day out fishing and he was holding the fort. He had had enough, he could listen no more so he held his hand up sharply and said.
” I get the picture and I fully understand your situation, so to proceed lets discuss financial arrangements….To engage my services will mean an initial two thousand dollars. We can then visit you to help you write out your application, fill in the appropriate forms and then advise you how to proceed. From what you have initially stated as to your situation and requirements for assistance I would estimate that if everything runs smoothly we are looking at a bill of approximately four thousand dollars and if needed over and above that, we work on an hourly basis of one hundred and fifty for my or a partners time and thirty five dollars for one of our office juniors per hour, that is plus any expenses incurred, and twenty two dollars per letter written, of course you will receive a copy of all correspondence.”
Billy-Bob’s face turned ashen white and Mary-Jo’s jaw dropped open.
“Fowa thousan dollars!”
Billy-Bob exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.
“Fowa Thousan dollars!”
He repeated as his anger rose.
“We’d be a lucky to have six hunnerd spare after scrapin around an borrowin, how in gods name can we find fowa thousan dollars?”
Mary-Jo rose up from the plush leather armchair that had been her position of importance only ten seconds earlier without speaking.
“Well theses are our normal engagement fees.”
Mr. Gant said with a satisfied smile, ‘he should have discussed finances at the opening of the meeting and that would have immediately curtailed the discussion allowing him to draw an end to this ludicrous meeting much earlier. He could then have started to prepare for the real business of the day, his meeting with the town zoning officers’, he thought to himself as Mary-Jo slunk out of his office after Billy-Bob who had stormed out and along the corridor in a whirlwind of cussing and agitation.
“Good day to you both.”
Called Mr. Gant after them as they swept along the corridor with Billy-Bob’s stomping boots pounding the polished stone floor.
“We look forward to your business regarding your zoning application; we will be ready and waiting for your instructions at your convenience.”
He continued, but they were gone, out off his offices and onto the street, hopefully he would never see them again. There’s was not business that Mr. Gant really wanted, yes it was income but from the lowest of the low white trash. His pride would not allow him to take on such an engagement, after all he had a standing in the community, or so he thought .He smiled to himself as he hurriedly put his papers into his brief case, then made a quick phone call
“Jeb just a quick one you might get a Mr. and Mrs. Johnson applying to build an alligator farm at Lokchapi, they have no money, not worth our while, must dash…, Bye.”
“Thanks Aaron bye.”
Jeb Clarke said as the line went dead on him. Mr. Gant walked out of his office and down the corridor. ‘That is the last that he would be seeing of that foul smelling couple’, he thought to himself as he walked out onto the sidewalk and turned and slammed the door behind him. ‘Well handled Aaron’, he continued to think as he strode along the side walk, nose high, chest out, linen suit flapping around his self important figure.
Ten minutes late for his morning appointment he walked up the steps of the Town Hall satellite offices in Spicebridge. Just as he reached the shiny circulating door at the top, a figure emerged with a swish of the door as the building disgorged another occupant out into the bright, hot sunlit morning air. It was a morning that had rapidly lost its crispness and the temperature and humidity rose quickly as the minutes ticked by.
“Good Morning Mr Gant.”
The figure said.
“Ahh.., good morning Clive.”
Mr Gant responded with his well cultivated air of aloofness.
“Looks like we’re in for another hot, hot day.”
Clive commented glancing up at the clear blue sky overhead. It was the time of year when the sub tropical climate was warming quickly and starting to deliver high temperatures and rising humidity in a double punch to the residents of mid Louisiana, it was now June and that meant long, hot sticky days with the ever present threat of catching the tail end of a hurricane as it swept inland from the coast in the coming months.
Mr. Gant acknowledged the comment with a knowing smile and nod of the head as Clive walked past down the steps still surveying the sky. Mr Gant liked Clive, and saw a little of himself in him as a young man. Clive was Mr. Clive Meek, the local county highways officer who he had had many dealings with over the years. Discussing with him his client’s development requirements and identifying with the help of Clive any and all ways to circumnavigate any highways related issues that could be problematic. Clive for himself had been in his chosen profession for about twenty years, joining the staff at Town Hall straight from high school. After showing promise Clive had joined the Highways Department from the post room and had been put through college at the expense of the state tax payers. He had done reasonably well with his studies and gained all the required professional accreditations to take up the position he had now held for sixteen years. He hadn’t found studying easy as even his mother would admit he didn’t possess the sharpest of minds. But with determination and a little cunning he had got through his college years doing the least amount of work possible and built himself a steady career, much to his family’s surprise.
He had just visited the Town Hall building in Spicebridge to drop off a couple of reports to the zoning department on his way from his office to his first appointment of the day. His own office was part of the Ville Platte City hall complex but he kept away from there as much as he possibly could.
Benjamin Carouse was a large Creole man, with an elegant face framed with a small silver pair of glasses that always rested on the bridge of his nose. He would look down through them to read and look out over them to view the world around him. As he stood by the window of his Town Hall office that morning looking out across the square he saw Clive Meek hurrying off towards his car with a folder under one arm and a cup of coffee in his free hand.
‘That boy is always in a hurry’, he thought to himself, being some twenty years older than Clive and holding a respectable and regarded position as the official Land Agent for the whole parish of Evangeline, he looked down on Clive and would often show him up at meetings. This was something that he couldn’t push too far though as he had a vested interest in having a good working relationship with him. His job entailed reviewing commercial zoning applications with regard to the proposed business uses of land from a business perspective. He would use his professional judgment to asses the proposed viability of proposals and vet their business plans and accounts and as such was in a position of power with the ability to kill off a proposal or commercial zoning application with one strike of his pen. He like Mr. Gant also used Clive and his official position toto circumnavigate any highways related issues that could be problematic for his ‘special clients’.
He did often wonder where Clive was always rushing off to. Clive seemed to be almost permanently out of his own office and to pin him down to agree to a meeting with an actual date and time was often quite a feat in itself. Anyway Benjamin had a busy day ahead of himself so he turned from the window, sat down at his desk, opened his diary and scanned the day’s page.
Meeting after meeting, all day long, with no outside visits, this was not the type of day that he enjoyed. He much preferred a mixture of some outside site visits and or meetings with customers of the parish and the same proportion of office time. If he could he would arrange his day so that the morning was office bound in the main and for the afternoons he would arrange his outside visits. This allowed him a certain level of flexibility with his hours worked, because once he had finished his last outside visit, he would drive home, normally arriving before his grandchildren arrived home from school. This suited him just fine and once home he would often wander down to the bayou and spend an hour or two fishing. This took his mind off work and relaxed him somewhat. Although this relaxed state never seemed to last long when he arrived back home to a household that reverberated to the sounds of three hormone charged teenage grandchildren. Different music playing loudly from each bedroom, doors banging and everyone had to shout to be heard above the music.
Mr Gant reached the reception desk in the cool air conditioned lobby of Town Hall and spoke briefly with the young girl seated behind the desk. He was received with courtesy and asked to go straight on up to see Mr Herbert Mouton, the manager of the zoning department for Evangeline. Mr Herbert Mouton was a man born and bred in Spicebridge; he had never crossed the state line to visit any one of the three neighbouring states, being Texas, Arkansasor Mississippi. He had got close however on many occasions in his younger days when he used to go and visit his grandparents who lived on the coast at Logansport. His grandfather was a prawn fisherman whose life had revolved around following the prawn harvest around the Gulf riding the seas with a seasoned wisdom and only taking shelter when the hurricanes of June, July and August bore down on the coastline.
On reaching the shiny wooden door with the brass name plate upon it, Mr. Gant knocked twice and entered without waiting for a reply.
“Good morning Herbert.”
He said as he entered. Herbert looked up from his desk and returned the pleasantry.
”Good Morning Aaron…., running a little late?”
He enquired.
“Yes a little.”
Came a cold reply, bristling at being rebuked , even if in a joking manner by a man that he had personally taken onto the staff at Town Hall some thirty years ago, when Herbert was a naive , wet behind the ears boy. It was also not his style, Aaron Gant was known for his cordiality, sharp mind and most important to him his punctuality. As he strode purposely across the office with his hand outstretched in greeting, he realised that he had forgotten something. Something that was essential for the smooth running of this mornings meeting. In the rush to get to Town Hall after the mornings unpredicted events he had forgotten to visit the bank and draw out the required number of crisp new one hundred dollar bills. The two men shook hands and Aaron took up Herbert’s invitation, seating himself opposite his protégé. He sat down rather uncomfortably knowing that an important part of the mornings meeting would not be able to be concluded in one go and inwardly sighed.
They got straight into their discussions’. Aaron outlined his client’s plans and laid out a map on the table between the two men, a full set of architectural drawings, some printed documents and a form, filled in by his own steady hand. Herbert picked up the documents’ and flicked through them, stopping occasionally to ask Aaron a question. He then set the documents back down, took a brief look at the architectural drawings, the map and then said
“Well Aaron I don’t see that we will have any problems with this one, just leave it to me and I’ll call you at the end of the week.”
He then paused scanning the desk for the expected brown envelope, he looked up and scanned Aarons face who uncharacteristically flushed a little with embarrassment.
“Ahh.., yes a small oversight this morning.”
He said acknowledging Herbert’s gaze.
“Are you available just after lunch? And I will pop back.”
He enquired.
“Yes of course Aaron, would two pm be ok with you?”
“Yes two pm it will be then.”
Replied Aaron as he rose and shook Herbert’s hand.
He turned briskly on his heels and walked to the door, he open the door and turned to nod goodbye to Herbert and caught him sitting behind his desk with a smug smile set on his thin lips. He closed the door behind him with a slam and hurried off down the corridor.
I hope you enjoy your reading. It is available on Kindle and a free copy can be borrowed for download at https://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Blue-Heron-Howard-Moore-ebook/dp/B00KK6BWLK..
Howard Moore
