Page 44 of The Cajun Doctor

“Holy shit!” Clarence again.

“Is that all that bird can say?” Angus asked.

“Pretty much,” she answered.

“Cool!” Angus sank down onto her low sofa, putting his face in his hands for a moment.

She sat down on the sofa, as well, and Emily immediately came over and nudged her leg with her pink snout, making pleading grunts. Understanding her cue, Samantha picked up the pig and placed her between herself and Angus. Potbellied pigs were very affectionate creatures and Emily was especially needy because of her depression.

Angus looked askance at the two of them. “Un-be-lieve-able!” he muttered under his breath.

She understood his surprise. Most people reacted that way to pet pigs. What they didn’t realize was that pigs, especially potbellied ones, were very intelligent and clean. Better than many dogs or cats.

“Why aren’t you at school, Angus? Last I heard, you took a leave from Starr Foods and were attending Clemson.” She stroked Emily’s back as she spoke, noting the pig’s quivering delight at the caress.

“Clemson was last year. I’m at Tulane now. Or, I was. That’s where Lil is . . . was . . . a student . . . a grad student.”

This was not good. Not good at all. Another college bites the dust? That had to be at least six or more for Angus, the quintessential professional student. What was happening with him? It’s not that he wasn’t smart. In fact, his mother had once told Samantha that Angus was in the “Mens for Kids” program when he’d been only six years old. Which had sounded kind of smarmy to Samantha, but it turned out that she’d meant Mensa for Kids. Angus had an I.Q. of more than 145, Samantha had learned later. Lot of good it had done him, she thought, looking at him now.

“Dad would help you, with whatever problem you have. Wouldn’t he?” Angus was not a natural child of Samantha’s father, but her dad always seemed fond of Angus, having married his mother Darla when the boy was a tween. Even after the divorce and Darla’s death, Dad kept a soft spot for the boy.

Emily was fast asleep now, her chin resting on Samantha’s knees, snoring softly.

Angus shook his head with a small smile at the two of them. But then he answered her question. “Bruce is at some wholesalers’ convention in Los Angeles with Florence. Last I saw him was at Easter when I dropped by the house. He told me he’s cutting me off, cold turkey. Just because I asked him for some tuition help. Florence has him on some Tough Love kick.” Florence, her father’s current wife, was a bit of a hard-liner, having been involved with female prisons at one time. Florence was certainly unlike his other wives who fit more in the trophy wife category: a debutante (Samantha’s mother), a Las Vegas showgirl (Wallace’s mother), a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader (Angus’s mother, Darla, who died of a drug overdose), and Lilith, a voodoo priestess.

Well, maybe Lilith hadn’t been the usual trophy wife with her turbans and matching dashiki-style gowns. She’d been colorful, though. Too bad Samantha hadn’t thought to ask Lilith for a voodoo curse against Nick.

“Your Uncle Wallace has a nice place in Kentucky. The horse farm is pretty this time of year, and—”

Angus waved a hand dismissively. “Too much in the open. People coming and going. Plus, Lil pukes at the smell of horse shit . . . any kind of animal shit, actually. I’m surprised she didn’t react to that litter pan over there. Usually, Lil would be hurling like a drunk at Mardi Gras at just a tiny whiff of poop.”

Samantha rolled her eyes with frustration. “Um, how about Callum?” Callum Starr was Angus’s natural father. Another Scotsman. In fact, he was Bruce’s second cousin. Thus, the same surnames. Talk about complicated, dysfunctional families!

“He moved back to Scotland last year where he raises sheep. He doesn’t have two dimes to rub together. I can only imagine how Lil would react to sheep shit.”

“Holy shit!” Clarence said suddenly.

Samantha gave the bird a dirty look, then turned back to Angus.

She pounced on the one thing he said. “So, this is about money, after all?”

“Only partly.”

She stared at Angus, waiting, but he resisted telling her more.

“In any case, your father would give you and Lily Beth a place to go, wouldn’t he? You said you have to get out of town.”

“Do you have any idea how much plane fare costs to Scotland?”

Actually, she didn’t. But, honestly, money again? He could hem and haw all he wanted, but she would bet her bottom dollar Angus was looking for a cash bailout of some sort.

“Why not go back to work on your project at Starr Foods? Here’s an unusual concept. Earn the money.”

His face reddened, and he shifted nervously. “That would take too long. We have to skip this town, like yesterday.”

“Why?”

“Um . . . it’s a long story.”