MATED TO THE CAJUN ALPHA

Leah

The lush moss-ridden town of Abita Springs, Louisiana, sat in the distance as we drove over another hill, closing in on the town.

It was tragic, really.

Momma lost her job at the bank after a meltdown over Karen stealing her hoagie—again—and she took her frustration out on Karen’s cactus that sat between them for five years.

Poor succulent.

Of course, Momma refused to apologize, which explained the impromptu move south to Louisiana. Leah was by no means a Yankee from Missouri, but this looked like hillbilly heaven.

“Look-a-there,” Momma said, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. “Home sweet home.”

Leaning forward, Leah took in the swampy bayou surrounding the highway, with mossy trees and the pink glow of the upcoming sunset. The population sign of three thousand would haunt her for weeks.

“No comment?” Momma asked.

Snatching her earbud from one ear, she gave her the look. “What was that saying again? If you don’t have anything nice to say …”

“Don’t be a killjoy, dumplin’. This is a chance to start over, a chance to make new friends and have an amazing senior year. Meet you, a good ole Cajun boy.”

Cajun boy.

That seemed light-years away. She’d hit seventeen two months before with only a few boyfriends on her rap sheet.

It could be worse.

She could have a ten-page rap sheet that hung over her like an umbrella with a leak. Momma glanced over at Leah, mimicking her furrowed brow.

“Boys got you in your feelings?”

Leah hid her smile. Momma tried too hard to stay current, in most cases Leah Googled her new vocabulary. Despite them looking identical with dark eyes, chocolate hair, and a petite frame, she held a dark complexion year round where her mother compared to a marshmallow.

Momma said it came from her daddy, whom Leah had never met. Once she rummaged through Momma’s sock drawer, with a desperate need to see him, she found an old Polaroid with Patrick 2000 written on the back.

The tanned skin matched. He was taller than she imagined, with unkempt hair and a lean frame. That need to meet him faded over the years. It became easy to ignore the empty spot at the dining table, even the absence forced upon her the night of the yearly Father-Daughter dance.

Momma turned today’s hits down and started reading street signs until they saw Kutchenmatcher Rd.

Surprisingly, the sale of their house back in Missouri went fast and landed them enough money to buy a nicer home in Abita Springs due to the population—or lack thereof. The local bank took Momma on willingly, not caring about the hoagie incident, or maybe she got out of sharing that one.

The single-story brick home sat further back from the road than the neighboring houses, with a fenced-in yard and a one-car garage. Momma’s excitement bared on her face as she parked and jumped out.

It was nicer than their previous house, which had a tin roof and screened-in porch. This one seemed suburban, with dark tiled roofing and white siding. Even the dark blue shutters looked freshly painted.

The humid Louisiana air sucked the breath from Leah. Being early August, the heat formed sweat on her hairline, trickling down her back and soaking into her T-shirt.

The temperature would take some getting used to, along with the population and the culture shock. Crawfish and swampy bayous were a thing here.

Hell, if Leah knew the big deal about either of them.

Momma raced toward the porch like a child. This was part of her routine after making a rash decision, she decided to make the best of everything. Once, she decided to become a herbalist, spent all of her free time in the woods, and came back with poison ivy, only to say it helped her immune system.

Leah grabbed her over-the-shoulder bag and phone, tossed her headphones around her neck, and jogged toward Momma. She clutched Leah’s shoulders. “Let’s do this together,” she said.

She helped push open the door, the waft of cleaning product and days old candles blew through. The wood flooring glistened in the moonlight cast in from the bay doors, a nice sized kitchen sat to the left with an island Momma always wanted.

Momma sprinted past the living room with a fireplace toward her master bedroom and bath with a Jacuzzi tub. “Wow,” she said, turning circles in the middle of her bare space. “This is amazing.”

Leah agreed and walked toward her bedroom, taking in the nooks and crannies of the space. The second bedroom sat in the back corner of the house, with a bathroom across the narrowed hallway.

A set of sliding bay doors stood on the far wall instead of a window, opening up into the backyard.

Shuffling toward the closet, she imagined where everything would go once the movers arrived with the U-Haul.

She ran her palm over the light gray walls, her eyes searching their spacious backyard. Leah felt a brush of fingers slide against her neck and down her spine.

The nerves must be settling, but oddly enough, it felt like she wasn’t alone in her room.

“Love it,” Momma said from the doorway. “Did you see the fireplace? There is a fenced-in backyard; maybe we should get a dog.”

Leah laughed, slinging her bag toward the corner of the room. “We don’t need a dog.”

“For protection,” Momma said, lifting her chin.

“From what? Rabid hillbillies?”

She tsked under her breath. “Help me get the blow-up mattress inside. We have a big day ahead of us.”

The movers pounded on the door at seven the next morning, which didn’t bother Leah since she hadn’t been to sleep. Momma insisted on them sleeping together on the blowup mattress in her room, not that they had another choice since she packed the other mattress away in the U-Haul.

Despite Momma’s light snores and the eerie silence of the house, something else kept Leah awake. She couldn’t pinpoint the feeling; it was new, like needles tapping against the base of her skull.

She figured it was the start of a migraine from the ride. Maybe some pain reliever would knock it out.

Or, maybe it was her senior year sneaking up and the classroom full of people she would walk into on her first day.

Groaning, Leah yanked the covers from her sweaty body, watching Momma shuffle toward the front door. Three burly men began bringing boxes and furniture through the door minutes later.

She took her time showering and changing clothes with the small bag she had brought the night before.

Leah dressed and decided to help them grab some of her things that were toward the back of the U-Hale.

The street looked different in the early morning sunshine, with a few other suburban houses down the long lone road. Cyprus trees scattered throughout neighbor’s yards and at the edge of the woods surrounding them, their wispy leaves blowing in the humid wind.

A few neighbors stood on their porches in long robes, palms curled over their foreheads, watching them unload their lives into an unknown home.

Leah walked around the side of the house toward a tree that sat outside of her one-bedroom window. She noticed it the night before; the cherry blossoms hung in disarray on the branches, brightening up the small walkway toward the backyard.

“Pretty tree.”

Leah shrieked loudly and jumped back against the house. A girl stood behind her. She wore ripped jeans with some New Orleans Logo on a dingy T-shirt. She had natural beauty with no makeup, her bleached hair pulled back in cornrow braids that hung down her back. With white skin, her bleached hair should have washed her out, but oddly enough, it suited her.

Especially with ice-blue eyes.

“You must be the new neighbors. I’m Hattie.”

Slowly, Leah took her outstretched hand, noticing her numerous bracelets and rings. “Leah.”

She grinned through assaults on her gum. “My mom is the real estate agent that helped y’all buy the house. We knew you were coming, and now you’re here. You a senior?”

Leah glanced over at Momma, who stood talking to the movers. Momma lifted a brow at her, which Leah returned with a shrug.

She needed friends, at least someone to show her around campus and talk her through any suicide attempts.

“Yeah, you?”

“Same,” she said.

“Hattie!”

Her mother yelled from the mailbox, waving her back toward their house.

“There is a big end-of-the-summer mud ride tonight. Do you want to come?”

Leah couldn’t imagine anything less fun. Mud riding on the back of someone’s four-wheeler that she didn’t know? Mudslinging in her eyes and clothes.

Hattie grinned at Leah’s frown. “Don’t look too disgusted. All our classmates will be there, and you can meet some of them, so it won’t be weird on your first day.”

That was true.

Leah tucked her dark hair. “Okay, I have to ask Momma, but it should be fine.”

Hattie popped her gum. “Let’s go ask her.”

They walked over as they tried to pull an ottoman out of the truck. Momma wiped her forehead and glanced at Hattie with a huge grin. A typical mother would cringe at Hattie’s wild hair and dark hipster clothing, but not Momma.

It was one thing Leah loved about her; she never judged a book by its cover.

“Momma, this is Hattie; she lives across the road.”

“Hey there, Hattie. It’s nice to meet you.”

They shook hands.

“Hattie invited me to a mud ride tonight.”

Momma’s smile never faltered. “That sounds like fun. Do you want to go?”

“Sure,” Leah said with a shaky voice.

Want to go wasn’t her first choice but Leah needed to meet people now before school started.

“Then go,” her mother said, waving them off. “When is it?”

“It starts around six. You can ride with me.” Her mother called again. She glanced over her shoulder. “I better go before she has a fit. See you at six.”

Leah watched as she ran toward her house.

“What do you wear to a mud ride?”

Momma laughed. “Hell, if I know, Leah. Help me with this, and we’ll figure it out later.”

Leah helped Momma lift the ottoman, and they waddled toward the house.

It took most of the day for the movers to bring everything in and set it up. Leah’s excitement built as she put up posters and adjusted her candle warmers and memorabilia from her youth. Nothing felt better than settling all your things into a new space.

The sun sank lower beyond the hills, reflecting off Momma’s hand-me-down jewelry box on the dresser and into her eyes.

Nerves scattered down her spine as the clock turned to five. She could smell Momma’s famous casserole from her cracked bedroom door. She’d gone grocery shopping earlier in the day, laughing at the small store they considered a market.

“Leah! Come eat; you need supper before you leave.”

Leah walked to her doorway and turned to look at her new room. Covered in whites and grays, the extra space made it look better than her cramped bedroom in Missouri.

Momma sat down her plate as Leah hopped onto the barstool. “So,” she said, with a mouth full of food. Handing Leah her phone, she smiled. “This is what you wear to a mud ride.”

Leah choked on her sweet tea. The girl on the screen wore coochie cutter shorts with rubber boots and a mid-drift Coolers Light shirt.

“No way in hell, Momma.”

“Language. You need to be a respectable southern belle now, Leah. No ugly words.”

“But it’s okay to dress like a Kardashian?”

“It was a joke, kind of.”

She slid the phone back across the bar. “I’ll just wear those jean shorts and an old T-shirt. It’ll be fine.”

Momma shrugged. “Maybe you’ll find your lover boy for the year.”

“Lover boy? Now we’re in the 50s?”

“My mother always told me the southern ones were good to have. Most are good with their hands and accustomed to hard work. Of course, I ended up with your father, who was from around here. Obviously, that is iffy advice.”

“Dad’s from Louisiana?” Leah asked.

Momma’s face turned serious, which didn’t happen often, and she shrugged before taking another bite. “Somewhere in Louisiana. Not here, per se.”

Biting her lip, Leah tried to read her face but couldn’t, so she gave up.

Leah placed her dishes in the washer and walked to her closet when she finished. She pulled out the jean shorts, tugged on an old Five Seconds of Summer concert tee, and pulled her dark locks into a ponytail.

The old tennis shoes she wore were older than dirt, not to mention one had a flap at the toe. Leah wasn’t one to bother Momma with trivial things, knowing she couldn’t afford new shoes every year. It didn’t matter to Leah to have older stuff.

Right at six, Hattie knocked on the door. Leah’s stomach bottomed out. Momma stood in the doorway to the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb, licking a Popsicle. “Do I need to go over the rules, or do you have this?”

Leah blew up her bangs, which was her nervous habit. “I’m fine. Have your phone on you in case there is an emergency.”

“Do you plan on drowning in the mud?”

Leah grinned. “Who knows, I might meet my lover boy today, and we start making babies.”

“Make sure he’s cute,” she said, walking toward her room. “I want cute grandbabies.”

Author Note:

Here is my newest release on Inkitt. It's a YA Southern Paranormal Romance. It's finished, but I'm editing and releasing a chapter every day until I get it all looked over, and published! My hero, who has his own chapters, speaks a bit of Cajun French. So, I'll be posting the meanings of his sayings at the end of his chapters! I hope you love it!