“That’s another thing. You need to turn over the research data. I’ve tried…and our other chemists have tried…to break down those jelly beans you left behind with your enzymes in them, but there are some ingredients we just can’t identify.”
“I could have told you that,” she answered, not liking the fact that they were trying to “steal” her formula behind her back.
But then something Charles had said struck a chord with her.
“You didn’t have any jelly beans with my enzymes in them. Those were the ones that Luc took. The ones left sitting on the counter were the neutral set.”
“You’re wrong. The jelly beans left behind definitely had your enzymes in them.” To prove his contention, he motioned toward a microscope that was already set up with a slide on it holding a halved jelly bean.
She peered into the lens, and gasped. He was right.
She frowned with puzzlement. If the jelly beans left behind had her enzymes, then that meant that the jelly beans Luc had ingested…
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “That means that Luc never took the love potion after all. There must have been a mix-up in the petri dishes.”
“I thought you knew that all along.”
“Are you crazy? You thought I went off with Luc, pretending that he took the love potion? Why?”
Charles shrugged. “Good publicity.”
“You believed this was all a PR stunt on my part?”
He nodded.
“You are a world-class worm.”
There was no love potion. Sylvie reeled as the implications of this news numbed her. If Luc hadn’t been under the influence of JBX, then that must mean that he’d been fooling her all along. Sylvie felt as if she’d been sucker-punched in the gut.
Tears burned her eyes while the ramifications kept occurring to her one by one, like dominoes falling in place. It had been a game to Luc all along. The teasing. The seduction. The profession of love. And the whole time, he’d probably been laughing at her.
Grabbing for her briefcase, Sylvie pointed a finger at Charles. “The JBX project halts right now. I’ll see you in court if necessary, but we are not proceeding till some new ground rules are set.”
Charles started to protest, then indicated with a motion of his hand that he acquiesced. “Let’s give it a week, then meet together with our lawyers.”
“In the meantime, you’ll do nothing.”
“I’ll do nothing,” he promised. “But JBX is too promising to discontinue. Agreed?”
She inclined her head in compliance.
Sylvie left the building and the parking lot as soon as she could, still unable to comprehend the full significance of this latest turn of events. She wasn’t sure what all the effects would be, but one thing was certain: She was devastated by Luc’s deception.
She’d thought the possibility of Luc’s fathering Tee-John was bad, but this was worse. The “bad boy of the bayou” had proven just how bad he could be.
She would never, ever forgive him.
That evening, Sylvie sat on the sofa with Blanche waiting for the local newscast to come on. Tante Lulu had called to alert her that there would be a special segment on the settlement between the Southern Louisiana shrimpers and Cypress Oil.
“Honey, you have to put this in perspective,” Blanche advised. They’d been discussing the situation between her and Luc. Her friend had already given her candid opinion of Sylvie’s red eyes and puffy nose.
“Perspective? The man is a tomcat who screws everything in sight, including his own stepmother, or almost-stepmother. And he lied through his teeth about being wildly attracted to me because of the love potion.”
“Okay, I’ll concede he deserves a few whaps in some strategic places, but, geez, Sylv, love doesn’t come along all that often.”
“But he doesn’t love me. Can’t you see? He was just pretending when he said that.”
“I was referring to your being in love. And don’t deny it, Sylv. You love Lucien LeDeux.”
Sylvie sighed, unable to repudiate that fact, much as she wished she could.
“Honey, don’t throw it away without giving him a chance to explain.”
“Explain? Oh, Blanche. What explanation can there possibly be for deliberately pulling the wool over my eyes? I knew I was out of my league with him from the start. I just didn’t realize how far.”
“And now we take you to the boardroom of Cypress Oil where a press conference is about to take place,” the announcer was saying.
She and Blanche sat up.
Seated at a long table in front of a bank of microphones was the president of Cypress Oil, Winston Oliver, who’d flown in from Los Angeles; Joe VanZandt, a Cypress Oil attorney; Deke Boudreaux, a Cypress flunky; several of the shrimp fishermen; and Luc, who looked absolutely gorgeous in a dark suit and white shirt with a floral tie. His hair had been recently trimmed.
“He got a haircut,” Sylvie murmured. For some reason, that brought tears welling in her eyes, even though she thought she’d been cried out today.
“You’re weeping over a haircut, Sylv? Why?” Blanche was staring at her with alarm.
“Because he’s already started to change, that’s why. To go on with his life.”
Blanche chuckled at her fancifulness.
Sylvie swiped at the tears and forced herself to focus on the TV screen.
VanZandt was giving the press an overview. Sylvie remembered him from grade school. He was an oily slimeball then, and still was. “It’s with profound pleasure that Cypress Oil and the Southern Louisiana Shrimpers Association announce a mutually beneficial settlement. A short time ago, the shrimpers called to our attention a pollutant problem that we were unaware of. We were shocked to find that a small amount of pollutants had accidentally escaped.”
“Oh, yeah, they were shocked, all right,” Sylvie told Blanche. “Shocked to be caught in the act.”
“As you all know, Cypress has an impeccable record for environmental protection. Therefore, we were surprised and gratified to have these issues called to our attention before they were cause for concern. We are delighted to announce that the problem has been nipped in the bud.”
“God, I’d like to nip something of his in the bud.”
Next Luc spoke. “On behalf of the Southern Louisiana Shrimpers Association, we’re proud to announce the establishment of a Bayou Clean Air and Soil Fund, thanks to a five-million-dollar startup gift from Cypress Oil.”
Sylvie had to smile at his diplomatic choice of words.
“In addition, independent investigators will be given permission to spot-check soil and water samples in and near Cypress property for the next five years, without prior notification.”
All of the Cypress people pasted cardboard smiles on their faces as Luc outlined the terms of the agreement. To say they were displeased would be a vast understatement.
“Are you satisfied with this settlement?” one local anchorman asked Luc and the shrimpers.
The shrimpers shrugged, and Luc spoke for them. “Both sides compromised in this arrangement. It’s not all that we would have wanted. Five years of inspections is nothing compared to the years of devastation in the bayou ecosystem, but it’s a beginning.”
“And what did the shrimpers promise in order to gain these concessions?”
Luc answered succinctly, “Silence.”
That prompted numerous questions, to which all parties remained mum. There were at least ten more minutes of interrogation, with everyone on the panel getting a turn. Sylvie was so proud of Luc and the way he handled himself. When push came to shove, The Swamp Solicitor was no slouch, that was for sure.
But then Sylvie’s attention was caught by a question from Matt Sommese, the Times-Picayune reporter. “Hey, Luc, let’s change the subject for a minute. I hear rumors that you’ve been under the influence of a love potion.”
Luc sat up straighter.
All the Cypress people exhaled with relief that the attention was now off them.<
br />
“Is it true?” Sommese persisted.
“Is what true?” Luc shifted uncomfortably.
“That you accidentally swallowed some love-potion jelly beans.”
Luc nodded slowly. “Yep.”
“Yep?” Matt and all the reporters stiffened, like hounds sniffing up the scent of fresh game. “Are you saying there’s such a thing as a real love potion?”
“Damn straight.”
“Oh, no, Luc. Please, just be quiet,” Sylvie pleaded to the TV screen.
No such luck.
As if on cue, Luc picked up a handheld microphone and stood, walking to the podium.
“You’d think he was going to give a bloody lecture,” she murmured. Which was exactly what he proceeded to do. And it was her lecture he was repeating. The louse!
“Sylvie Fontaine is a chemist at Terrebonne Pharmaceuticals who has invented an honest-to-God love potion called JBX, for you folks out there who don’t know about this.” She could tell by the ease with which he spoke that this was no impromptu announcement. He had intended to end the press conference in this way from the beginning.
“Oh, my God, Sylv! I thought you were putting a halt on JBX for the time being.” Blanche was clearly confused and dismayed.
“I am,” Sylvie cried. “Luc is ruining it all.”
“Now I see some of you guys smirking,” Luc told the reporters, as he leaned casually against the podium, “but really, think about it. If there can be a Viagra, why not a love potion?”
The reporters were nodding.
Sylvie put a palm to her forehead. She felt the birth of a world-class migraine, the kind that felt like razors across the back of the eyeballs.
“And there are lots of legitimate uses for a love potion, not just turning someone on…though that’s nice, too,” the Cajun fool continued, this time accompanied by a waggle of the eyebrows. “Like in marriage counseling. Or with people that have low sex drives, and stuff like that. The world needs to know more about male/female relationships.”
Sylvie felt like crying. Why was Luc doing this? To embarrass her? She’d told him over and over that she didn’t want to take the spotlight over JBX, that all she’d wanted was peer recognition. She would never live this down. Never.
“Let’s cut to the chase, LeDeux,” Matt Sommese called out with a laugh. “Did you get turned on by Sylvie’s love potion?”
Luc just grinned. The camera cut in close, and the last thing viewers saw before the commercial was that devilish grin, which said it all: Boy, was I turned on!
Snickers and guffawing provided the background noise to the fade-out.
“Exactly what did you two do when you were gone?” Blanche wanted to know. “I mean, if you say that there was no love potion, and Luc is swearing that there is, well, something weird is going on. Are you sure he didn’t take the love potion?”
“I’m sure. He’s just repeating stuff I told him about the love potion.”
“But why?”
“I have no idea. To tease me like he’s been doing all my life. To put himself in the spotlight as some kind of lover boy. To cash in somehow if JBX ever takes off. To mortify me to death.” She threw her arms up in the air. “He’ll probably be filing one of his crazy lawsuits against me and Terrebonne Pharmaceuticals.”
“For not ingesting the love potion?”
“Oh, stop being so logical, Blanche. For making him think he took a love potion when he didn’t.”
“Is that illegal?”
“I don’t know,” Sylvie wailed, pulling at her own hair in frustration. “All I know is I’m gonna kill him. I swear, I’m gonna kill him.”
The doorbell rang then, and they both went immediately alert.
“I’ll bet that’s reporters already,” Sylvie whispered. “Maybe we could pretend nobody’s home.”
“With all the lights on and the TV blaring?” Blanche asked, arching an eyebrow at her. “Let me get it. I can handle these newshounds.”
Sylvie went back into the den, where the news program had resumed. Luc was spouting off about something else now, but she was distracted by the sound of Blanche talking to someone with an indiscernible husky, male voice.
Then she heard two sets of shoes approaching and the low murmur of talking.
“Hey, Sylv, guess what? It wasn’t a reporter, after all.”
Sylvie looked up to see Lucien LeDeux standing in the doorway, wearing the same dark suit and white shirt as she’d seen on TV.
Glancing from him to the TV screen, she realized that the show must have been taped earlier.
“Sylvie,” Luc said tentatively.
“Uh, I think I’ll go home now,” Blanche said. “I have to work on tomorrow’s radio show.”
The traitor! Before Sylvie had a chance to protest, Blanche was gone.
Sylvie stood, not wanting to be at a disadvantage, and clenched her hands at her sides. She needed to calm down before she started screaming.
Luc stepped into the doorway of the room. “You haven’t been answering my calls, Sylv.”
“I needed time to think through some things.”
“For a week?”
She nodded.
“And?” If she didn’t know better, she would think that was a vulnerable look of hope on his face. Thank goodness, he didn’t move any closer…just leaned against the doorjamb, ankles crossed, with his hands in his slacks pockets holding his jacket back on his hips. Any closer and she feared she would clamp her hands around his neck and do something outrageous…like kiss him.
Kiss him? Where did that thought come from? Kissing is out of the question.
When she still hadn’t answered him, he prodded, “And why haven’t you called me back?”
“More things keep piling on—”
“Things?”
“Yeah, things that need…consideration.”
He shook his head in confusion. “Sylv, I found out that Tee-John isn’t my son. It’s a long story, but the gist of it is that my dad was the father all along.” She started to say something, and he held up a hand to stop her. “I know what you’re going to say. That my paternity wasn’t so much the issue as my lack of responsibility. Well, I can’t defend everything I’ve done, but, geez, Sylv, I was young and I tried my best to protect Tee-John.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “That’s the least of our problems.”
“We have problems?” His voice lacked its usual self-confidence.
“Of course, we have problems.”
“Then let’s talk them through, Sylv.” He walked into the room, and was about to pull her down on the sofa with him, but must have noticed the forbidding expression on her face. Instead, still puzzled, he dropped to the sofa and motioned for her to sit in the chair across from him, which she did, needing something to hold onto. “Sylv, I love you. Please don’t close yourself off from me like this. Let me in. Tell me what’s wrong. Together…” He choked up. “Together we can work things out.”
“Oh, don’t you ever say that again, Luc LeDeux.”
“Say what? I feel like you and I are speaking different languages, Sylv.”
“Don’t you ever say that you love me again.”
“Why the hell not? I love you. I love you. I love you.”
He looked so gorgeous and childlike and fierce when he said those words that Sylvie felt herself melting. Still, she braced herself.
“I’m on to you, buster. No more playing games. No more vows of love. No more bull.”
He bristled with indignation. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”
She pointed toward the TV screen. “Let’s talk about that show you put on tonight.”
“You watched?” His face brightened. “I did good, didn’t I?”
Oh, the gall of the man! “The first part was great. I’m glad you got those concessions from Cypress Oil. René and his buddies must be pleased.”
“They are. I can’t wait to tell you all the details…how my dad almost had a stroke when—
”
“It’s the other half of the program that made me almost have a stroke.”
“You mean the love-potion stuff?”
“Precisely.”
“I knew you wouldn’t toot your own horn, Sylv. So I did it for you. Now you’ll get all the recognition you ever wanted. Your mother and all your uptight relatives will be so proud of you, they’ll probably burst their girdles.”
“Earth to Luc. Who died and named you my road-show manager? I distinctly recall telling you that I never wanted to be in the spotlight for JBX…that all I ever wanted was behind-the-scenes peer recognition.”
“Ooops.”
“Ooops? You just turned me into the laughingstock of the country…a spectacle…a freak…and all you can say is ooops.”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit? Okay, so you didn’t want to be the front man for the project. So, step back, and let Charles or some hired spokesperson take over. No big deal! The most important thing, Sylv, is that you and I are perfect proof that the love potion works.”
“I’ve put a halt on the JBX project,” she inserted brusquely.
“What?”
“You heard me. Your big announcement was for naught. There is no love potion project…for now.”
Her news clearly floored him, and he blinked with confusion. “But why?”
“I learned a few things while ensconced in your little love hideaway,” she said snidely. “Let’s just say that the love potion needs a little work, in my opinion.”
He waved a hand airily. “So, it’s just a temporary delay. You had me scared there for a minute. You and I both know what a great thing that love potion is. It brought us together, didn’t it?”
She glared at him.
But the fool just blathered on. “Look at us, honey. Two people who practically hated each other—well, I didn’t hate you but you hated me—and with the help of a handful of jelly beans, we fell in love. That’s important, sweetheart. And your invention did it all.”
“You are incredible.”
“I know. And by the way, you never actually said the words to me. Now might be a good time.” He smiled enticingly at her and patted the couch next to him.
“You couldn’t possibly be as thickheaded as you’re pretending to be.”