Yapping Dogs

"Hate to tell you, fucked him on the first date? You're not going see him again," Jared interrupted the litany again.

"But the sex was great," Tammy defended.

"Sex? For a guy? Always great," Jared corrected. "But even as great as it was? Why would he settle for just you? When he can have you and three of your friends?"

"God, what an ass hole," Tammy sneered to Rochelle. "No wonder you're still fucking Tommy."

Jared quickly looked at his wife.

The look of horror on Rochelle's face told Jared all he needed to know. The look of shock, of discomfort on Leslie's face, on April's face, and the look of triumph on Tammy's face told Jared that it was true, and the 'clique' had all known about it.

"I'm going off-shore Thursday," Jared said quietly to his wife. "Be at least two weeks before I'm back."

"Jared, Sweetheart, it was just..." Rochelle started.

"Need have your stuff out before I get back, hear?" Jared said.

With that, he turned and walked through the kitchen to the garage.

"Oh God, oh Tammy, why? Why did you do that?" Rochelle moaned.

They all heard the garage door rising. Then they heard Jared's pickup truck start.

"What? He fucking had it coming," Tammy defended.

"But did I? Did I have it coming?" Rochelle screamed.

The truck pulled away at a high rate of speed.

"Didn't put the door down," April pointed out.

Rochelle decided she would not move; she and Gloria would stay in the house. They would talk to Jared when he returned from his shift.

But Theresa White served the young woman with papers. One was a petition for the dissolution of the marriage. Another was an order to vacate the premises.

The third really cut at Rochelle. It frightened her as well. The third set of papers was a demand for a paternity test to be performed on Gloria. And after the birth of their second daughter, a paternity test was to be performed on the infant as well.

When Rochelle had been dating Tommy, his mother had shown her a few of Tommy's baby pictures. There were quite a few similarities between Gloria's brown eyes and Tommy's brown eyes. Baby Tommy had possessed an adorable little dimple in his right cheek. Gloria had a cute little dimple in her right cheek.

There were also a good deal of similarities between Jared's baby pictures and Gloria's baby pictures, though.

Penny Richards of the law offices of Richards, Pellichet and Richards had been hired to represent Jared Michael Broussard in the petition of divorce between Broussard V. Esposito-Broussard.

"Come on, Gloria, we're going see Maw-maw and Paw-paw," Rochelle called out.

"No," Gloria said.

"Yes," Rochelle said, bending to scoop the child up.

"No," Gloria said, running away.

"God damn it, Gloria, I don't have time for this shit!" Rochelle exploded, giving chase to her willful daughter.

A few smacks on the child's rear end just had the girl screaming and wailing, but it did little to curb her willfulness. Connie helped Rochelle with the crying girl while Rochelle talked with her father. Connie had just calmed Gloria down when Francis stormed into the kitchen.

"You go talk to that daughter of yours," Francis barked at his wife.

He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

"I cannot, I just cannot believe," he snarled.

Rochelle was sitting on the couch, sobbing.

Her father had called her an ignorant slut. Her own father had called her an ignorant slut.

"God damn, all that money, all that money on college and you do something that God damned stupid?" Francis bellowed from the kitchen.

Connie hugged her daughter, rubbed her daughter's back. When Rochelle seemed a little more composed, then Connie looked at the papers.

"Oh my God, no, oh Rochelle, a divorce?" Connie gasped.

"Ask her why!" Francis yelled. "Ask her why her husband, a good man, ask her why he wants a divorce from her."

"Francis, that's enough," Connie called out.

"Order to vacate? He can't, he can't make you move out; it's your house too, right?" Connie gasped, reading the first lines of the second set of papers.

But when Rochelle's mother read the first paragraph of the third set of papers, she said nothing. She just looked at her daughter, got to her feet and left the room.

"No sir, that's YOUR daughter," she snapped at Francis. YOU go and talk to YOUR daughter."

As disappointed as they were in their daughter, Francis and Connie did loan Rochelle the two thousand dollars Sophia Coutre charged to represent her. They said it was a loan, even though they knew they'd never see that money.

"Can't make you move out," Sophia affirmed. "But you stay there? You will be responsible for half of the expenses associated with the house. No job, no ready source of income, it'll be hard for you to maintain the household."

Looking at the request for DNA testing for both Gloria and the unborn child, Sophia did look at Rochelle. She kept her face passive.

"Any chance either one of the children are not his?" Sophia asked.

"Yes ma'am," Rochelle agreed, blushing hotly.

Jared was off-shore; the logs and recordings verified he was off-shore. But someone with a knowledge of welding welded the doors of Tommy's pickup shut.

Someone with knowledge of how to use an acetylene torch cut the drive shaft on Tammy's car. She put the car in reverse, backed out of her driveway, then put the car in forward and the sports car would go no further. Even over her Taylor Swift cd, she had heard the clank as the drive shaft hit the pavement.

Someone cut the front forks of Billy's motorcycle. The first bump he hit at forty miles an hour snapped the forks off, pitching him forward.

Billy's helmet did save his life, but his face was horribly disfigured from kissing the pavement.

Someone with knowledge of welding welded Chad's rack and pinion steering; he struggled to turn the wheel left and right, but the front end did not move at all. The automobile would go only forward in a straight line, or reverse, in a straight line.

Charlie, Ritchie, Mikey, Leslie, Tamara, and April were paranoid. Nothing happened to their automobiles. Yet. But was today the day? Was today the day they'd get into their car and it would explode? Was today the day they'd get into their cars and the brakes wouldn't work?

When Jared was scheduled to come in, Rochelle went to the house to wait for him. A quick call to Fontenot's Equipment & Services confirmed that Jared Broussard had come in, had been on the two thirty boat.

If the boat picked him up at the rig at two thirty, he usually reached the Industrial Canal by four, four thirty at the latest. Then a forty five minute drive.

But by eight o'clock, Jared had still not come home. Rochelle had taken her clothing and Gloria's clothing and toys, as well as Gloria's furniture out of the house when she moved back home, into her parents' home.

Now, at eight o'clock, she walked around the house. It was as if she was walking around the house, seeing it for the first time.

The bed was still in the bedroom, but now Rochelle saw that there were no pillows. The bathroom still had the decorative towels that she'd bought, but Jared's razor and antiperspirant and cologne was gone.

The closet was also empty.

"But he was off-shore; he couldn't..." Rochelle cried.

"Belinda!" she snarled.

"Roach L. Esposito dash Broussard called for you," Belinda said, calling Jared on his new cell phone.

"What'd you tell her?" Jared asked as the lights of Houston were in his rearview mirror.

"The truth; you not here," his mother said.

Shortly after the birth of Gloria, a company had contacted Jared, had offered him a six month contract to work on the Alaskan Pipeline. Rochelle had not even entertained the idea, even though the money was nearly quadruple what he was making off-shore.

Truth be known, Jared had not been terribly tempted; it would mean six months away from his little girl with only the occasional weekend off to fly home to see her. And, having lived his entire life in southwest Louisiana, Jared wasn't sure how he felt about the brutal Alaskan winter.

But now he had no reason not to go.

"And by the time I'm done, the divorce will be done," he soothed himself.

Chris Fontenot of Fontenot's Equipment & Services had been told by Jared not to disclose to Rochelle that he no longer worked for Fontenot. But Chris had a soft spot for crying pregnant women and finally did disclose that Jared had resigned.

"Shit, even offered him land work or shop work," Chris admitted. "I mean, don't pay shit; know how much an underwater welder gets? But he just said it was time for him move on."

Then the fifty nine year old man made Rochelle's skin crawl by offering to 'help her out' if she ever needed it.

Jared had been smart enough not to tell Chris Fontenot where he was heading. Chris did tell Rochelle the truth; welding was in demand, not just in the oil field, but in just about every industrial field.

"Man good as Broussard is? Shit, ain't no limit where he could go, you know?" Chris said.

Tearfully, Rochelle had to tell Sophia to drop the petition for ordered counseling. Since they did not know where Jared was, and Belinda wasn't telling, they could not force him to go to counseling.

The DNA test on Gloria did reveal that Jared Broussard was not the child's father. But it also revealed that Tommy Huvall, Jr. was not the father. Tommy slapped Rochelle as hard as he could, actually dislodging a tooth. And Chad Theriot grumbled and made threats but did submit samples for DNA testing.

"What?" Chad screamed when Theresa White, Penny Richards' process server served him the papers that he was being sued by Jared Broussard for back child support. "How the fuck I'm pay this?"

"Here's an idea; get a job," Theresa suggested.

"And what about my car, huh?" Chad screamed.

"I give up," Theresa said. "What about your car?"

"Uh, won't turn. And I'm still paying for it," Chad snarled angrily.

"Life goes on, dude, life goes on," Theresa shrugged and got into her car.

While Chad was trying to see if there was some legal precedence that would prevent him from having to pay child support, Rochelle was trying to use her daughter to gain information.

Belinda had loved being a grandmother, loved having a granddaughter. It really broke her heart to find out that she was of no relation to the precocious little girl and was probably of no relation to the baby girl growing inside of Rochelle's belly.

"Please, Miss Belinda," Rochelle sobbed while Belinda fussed over Gloria. "I don't want a divorce."

"And my Jared? He didn't want him no whore for a wife neither," Belinda said. "Guess nobody getting what they want, huh?"

"Miss Belinda, I made a mistake, all right? Guess you ain't never made one, huh?" Rochelle asked angrily.

Belinda looked pointedly at Rochelle's protruding belly, then at Rochelle's flushed face. Belinda then continued singing Cajun songs to Gloria.

Rochelle grabbed her daughter and prepared to leave.

"Tell Nana bye," Rochelle snapped.

Belinda's smirk infuriated Rochelle even more. Rochelle slammed her way out of the house. Then, as Belinda closed the front door of the home, Belinda let a few tears trickle down her face.

"Why God? Why that couldn't be my Jared's, huh?" Belinda beseeched. "You know I'm a good Nana."

Kathleen Ann Esposito was born nearly four months after that fateful day, the day Tammy Hale had let it slip that Rochelle and Tommy were still sleeping together. The infant had a frizz of blonde hair and clear blue eyes. A DNA test did show that Thomas Huvall, Jr. was the father of this infant.

Rochelle had named Gloria after her paternal grandmother. So Kathleen was named after her maternal grandmother. But this fact brought no smile to Connie's face.

"Congratulations," Connie sniped. "Twenty one years old and already the mother of two children by two different fathers. Congratulations."

"Stop, Connie," Francis sighed. "Just stop. Our daughter's that way and somehow it's our fault. Somehow we're the ones raised her believe its okay fuck any swinging dick out there."

What should have been a happy moment was a heart breaking one as Rochelle watched her father, her strong, brave father's shoulders droop, watched him shuffle out of her room at the University Medical Center in Lafayette, Louisiana.

The next day, mother and infant were wheeled out of the front door of the charity hospital. Francis listlessly helped the nurse load his daughter and granddaughter into his car. Wordlessly, he nodded his thanks to the young woman, then closed the door of the car.

"Daddy I..." Rochelle said after he swung onto I-10, heading east toward DeGarde.

"Don't, Baby, please. Just don't," Frances said in a dull monotone. "Please, just don't say anything, Baby."

Six months after that fateful day, the day Rochelle's idyllic dream life was crushed by Tammy's revelation, Carmen Davis of Davis Realty had a buyer on the cute three bedroom home. The remainder of the sale, after the note was paid off did give Rochelle a check for nine thousand eight hundred and twelve dollars. Rochelle's first order of business was to repay her parents the two thousand dollars they'd loaned her to hire Sophia Coutre. Her father looked at the check, then handed it to his wife.

"Daddy, I'm sorry," Rochelle whispered as they sat at the kitchen table.

"Me too, Sweetie, me too," he sighed, pushed away his half-eaten dinner and left the room.

"Momma, what can I do?" Rochelle asked her mother, tears streaming down her face.

"What's done is done," Connie said listlessly, stoically eating her dinner.

"But I'm sorry," Rochelle sobbed.

"Yeah? And that fixes anything?" Connie asked. "Being sorry put diapers on them kids? Being sorry put food on this table?"

Connie returned to eating her dinner. After a few bites, she too shoved her half-eaten dinner away and got to her feet.

"I hope they was good. Them boys?" Connie said. "I hope they was worth it."

Rochelle cleaned the table. She then cleaned the kitchen. Just as she was drying off the pot, Gloria announced that she was hungry.

"But you already had rice, remember?" Rochelle smiled down at her daughter.

"Mommy why you crying?" Gloria asked as Rochelle put her into her high chair.

Rochelle didn't answer, just popped open a jar of apple sauce. Just as she put the bowl in front of Gloria, Kathleen wailed.

The infant got a fresh diaper, then a breast to suckle. Mother and daughters sat in the kitchen.

"Mommy why you crying?" Gloria asked again as she made a mess of herself with the apple sauce.

While Rochelle was feeding her two daughters, Jared was sitting in a very comfortable waiting room, looking out at the city of Houston, Texas. The receptionist was a beautiful red head with milky white skin and only a spattering of freckles. Her breasts, Jared decided, simply could not be her natural breasts. They could say that everything is bigger in Texas, but Hannah's breasts were not Texas made.

"But I've got lots of money now," Jared thought as the sun glinted off of an adjacent glass and steel building.

"And nowhere to spend it," he continued to think.

Alaska had been cold. He couldn't believe how cold Alaska had been. Three pairs of thermal underwear, a thick pair of ski pants, two sweaters and his parka, as well as full head gear and he had still felt like he was going to freeze to death. The hunting socks with the battery powered heater had helped. In fact, Jared was sure, had it not been for the socks, he would have turned into a block of ice.

They'd offered him a substantial amount of money to sign up for a second shift and Jared had none too politely told them he would not sign up again.

He had hardly been home long enough to help his mother pack up her small house. Aunt Michelle, her sister, lived in Phoenix, Arizona and had invited her baby sister to come live with her.

He had no sooner put the last piece of tape on the last box and he'd been called by a company that wanted him to do a three month stint in the North Atlantic Sea. The amount of money they were offering was obscene; he'd have to work nearly two years off-shore in the Gulf to make that kind of money.

Belinda sold Jared the Baylor Lake home. That had whittled away only a small chunk of his money. Treating himself to a new truck dipped into his prudent reserve a little more. But he still had a good nest egg left.

"Got plenty of money, but unfortunately, got plenty of time too," Jared thought as he put the last box onto the truck. With a hug and a kiss, mother went one way and son went the other.

Time was not Jared's friend. He had not loved Rochelle; many times he had not even liked the beautiful blonde. On retrospect, instead of marriage, he should have demanded a paternity test. If the child had been his, then he could arrange to pay child support.

Of course, Gloria was not his. And Kathleen was not his either. He did wonder what Kathleen looked like; was she pretty like her mother, or did she look like Tommy.

No, he had not loved Rochelle, but he had loved being a Daddy. Jared had loved, adored his little girl. The fact that his wife was sleeping with her old boyfriend, and her friends were laughing at him behind his back had made it impossible for Jared to remain married to Rochelle, made it impossible to stay there and be Gloria's daddy.

Penny Richards, now Penny Jones, his attorney did arrange to have a property management company take care of Jared's home for the ninety four days he was in the North Atlantic. He did think their fees were a little pricey, but again, money was one thing he had plenty of.

Alaska had not prepared Jared for the hellish cold of the North Atlantic seas. The gale force winds whipped around the towering structures and it seemed that no matter where he went, Jared simply could not escape the frigid cold. And on the open waters, this was a bone chilling cold.

"Dude, I don't give a shit," Jared thought as he did his best to weld the seal shut. "Minute they say your shift is up? Get on the fucking bird and get out of here."

Which he did. And after just one week home, he went to work for King Sanitation. They sent him to Santa Barbara, California. He enjoyed the California warmth and the occasional California blonde. But after a few months there, he admitted to Bronson Mettier, the managing director of the Santa Barbara office that he was home sick. Jared said the same thing to Gordon King, Owner and CEO of King Sanitation, he missed his home.

Gordon King already had two shop welders in the Baylor Lake office, but assured Jared that he would call him, should he ever need him. They parted on good terms.

One week after arriving back home, Jared had been invited to this corporate office in Houston, Texas. They wanted him to take a team of welders to Nigeria. The man on the telephone had chuckled as he told Jared that Nigeria was a lot warmer than Alaska, or the North Atlantic.

The sun had turned the adjacent black glass and steel building into a glittering, blinding diamond of light. Jared looked away from the spectacle and looked at his watch again.

The email had said their appointment was for three thirty. On the telephone, Mark Barnes had confirmed for three thirty. The receptionist with the beautiful face and beautiful red hair and beautiful breasts had confirmed that his appointment was scheduled for three thirty.

His watch said it was four twenty. The clock on the wall behind the receptionist's head said it was four twenty.

Jared got to his feet, took one last look at Houston, Texas, and walked out the door of the corporate headquarters.

"Sir?" the receptionist called out but Jared let the door close.

The security guard in the lobby hung up the telephone and motioned to Jared as Jared stepped off the elevator.