My uncle first took notice the second day of our visit and tried to stick up for me, but when things escalated quickly, my aunt had to step in and rescue my uncle. It was downhill from there. The next two months were a cycle of momma getting drunk, me being a target for her spitefulness and my aunt and or uncle stepping in. It usually ended with a huge fight. The fight then turned into an excuse to drink until she passed out and would wake up sometime the next day, not remembering any of it.
Or so she said.
The process would start all over again the next morning when she started drinking mimosas. The winery was a bad place for her. She had more alcohol at her disposal than she knew what to do with, and let me tell you, she tried, she tried really hard, to consume as much as she possibly could.
My poor aunt, who, no matter how hard she worked, could not get my mother to see reason. She tried several times into talking my momma into staying with them and getting some kind of treatment. Back then, I didn’t really understand how serious it was or would turn out to be – I was only fifteen. But momma refused and always turned every drunken episode into another bigger fight and would blame the fight on anyone but herself.
That was the last trip my mother made with me to California. After that I went on my summer break alone and would always have a huge fight with her before leaving and a huge fight when I got home. After four years in a row of doing this, I simply stopped going .
Anyway, when I made that decision, I thought I would be in college full time and wouldn’t be able to make the long vacations. My aunt and uncle would fly in to see me for a few days each year around my birthday, and then they would have to head back to take care of business.
Let’s just say without my aunt and uncle, I would have had a terrible life. With them, I had a bearable life. If we had lived closer to them, I could have spent more time in their company and I would have been able to complete a four-year college degree and possibly had a real career.
That wasn’t my reality though. I had to finish taking my courses online at night just to get the two-year degree. My momma’s drunken state escalated each time I got close to reaching any sort of milestone.
Because of that, she never learned I finished the two-year degree. She thinks I never finished college, which she throws in my face as often as she possibly can. I keep that real close to the vest. If she ever found out I finished even my meager two-year degree behind her back, there would be serious hell to pay, and I just wasn’t up to deal with that level of torment.
Especially now…. without my aunt around to have my back, or even to commiserate with.
Until three days ago, I worked as an office assistant for a construction company husband and wife team. It paid the bills, barely, but they understood my situation and not only gave me the time I often needed to manage her episodes, but they helped me when they could. During the holidays, they would check on me to make sure I had a way to celebrate and wasn’t left alone. They were nice and I would miss them. They even drove me to the airport, and sent me off with tears and a promised to stay in touch, and check in on momma.
Several times, I tried talking to my momma about her drinking and these discussions segued into some of the worst fights and verbal and physical abuse I had ever received from her. After the last attempt, I just didn’t have it in me to bring it up again.
She flitted through life on a whim (hers) and a prayer (mine) and went through jobs like water went through a screen. My worst fear was if I ever left her, she would end up homeless, in the hospital, or in jail. No matter how much she upset me, she was still my momma and I wasn’t having any of it. I stayed with her, in the same small house my aunt and uncle had bought us when I was little, and worked and paid the bills and picked her drunk butt up and put her to bed most nights.
But that was all about to change.
Occasionally, I would get a brief reprieve when she would start dating someone and during those times, she would really clean up her act. But she couldn’t keep it up for long and sooner or later she would end up showing her true colors and it would always cost her the guy.
See, when I say my momma was a mean nasty drunk, that’s me sugar -coating the situation. That woman was downright vicious. And once she set her eye on you that was it, and there was not one dang thing you could do to shake her until she tore you down to the level, she felt you deserved to be.
Thus, she went through a lot of men.
Luckily, we lived right outside of Houston, so she had a huge selection of men to go through and as of yet, hadn’t managed to go through them all.
With all that said, I was fortunate to be leaving during a time when momma was dating someone new and was on her best behavior. The fact that her sister had just died gave her something to use to milk all the sympathy out of the poor guy she could, and probably buy her some time to atone for her crappy behavior. He would chalk it up to grief and it might be a while before he realized this was how she was and there wasn’t goin’ to be another normal she would go back to.
I did, however, make sure the man she was dating, Mark, knew my number and how to get ahold of me, just in case.
Tragically, my momma attracted really nice guys who wanted to take care of her and help fix her; they were all the hero types who loved to sweep my poor weak momma off her feet.
Then, after a spell, they would come to find my momma was not only - not weak, she was as mean as a starving feral cat, and they would hightail it outta our lives like their britches were on fire .
I stretched my legs out and marveled at the roominess of the leg area and at the comfort this seat afforded me. I thought back to all the times I’d flown to see my aunt in the cramped normal airline seats. This was so much better.
See, my momma, my aunt Raquel and I were tallish; five feet ten inches and all of us looked alike. Momma and aunt Raquel were twins. I looked like they probably did when they were my age. We all were kind of curvy: big boobs, big butts, long legs with thick thighs with a little buddha belly. Each of us had long dark wavy/curly thick soft hair that naturally highlighted to a burnished copper when in the sun for a few hours. We have big round light brown eyes, with long thick lashes.
I learned we were attractive at a very early age because, while traveling together when I was younger, we were treated a certain way by everyone, men and women alike, and of course, in my later years I learned we were attractive in the usual ways.
Men loved us, then didn’t. Women were wary of us and kept us at arm’s length.
Except my aunt’s wine tribe gals. They just loved us.
Now normally, you think twins are close. I guess when they were little, the two of them had been, they knew what each other was thinking, had a secret language and all.
But once my momma discovered boys and alcohol, things changed dramatically. My understanding was things started going south for my aunt when momma got really jealous of anyone who would meet her sister and make a big fuss, embarrassing my aunt. This usually made momma look small and petty. I guess maybe that’s when she started drowning her sorrows in a bottle, leading to a lifetime of drowning all her many sorrows, in as many bottles as she could get her hands on.
Momma was also really pissed that Sydney only sent me a ticket, and told my mom she wasn’t welcome, nor was she inheriting anything.
“Not. One. Penny” were Sydney’s exact words. Although miles separated my aunt and Sydney for a few years, they talked almost daily, between that and social media, they shared everything.
To put it mildly…this information did not go over well. But there wasn’t anything momma could do about it. Sydney was the executor of the will and even though I only remember meeting Sydney when I was little, my momma knew her, and knew her well enough to be cautious of her.
My momma’s last words to me as I was walking out the door was, “Well, we’ll just see about this, now won’t we?” I’m not going to lie – the words, and the way in which they were spoken, in her deep southern drawl, scared the heck o
utta me and I hightailed my rear end outta there as quick as I could. I think the only saving grace was my momma and her new guy were just home from a short trip they had taken to California and momma wasn’t in a big hurry to get back on a plane right away.
I was sure that night was going to be a real humdinger and for once, I was not going to be around with a big neon target on my forehead. Let the new guy deal with her. My entire life had been dedicated to her and her episodes and I’d had enough.
Any and every opportunity to advance myself, and my life, from school, to jobs, to boyfriends, to friends, to apartments, she would work, and scheme, and make scenes, and lie until I was forced back to her home. Under her rules, her abuse and I gotta tell ya, I was damn sick and tired of it. I knew at this point in my life, it was her or me. For the first time, I was choosing me.
I needed some peace in my life or I was going to end up just as nutty as she was. I loved my momma, that went without saying. But I needed some space from her, and I was taking it.
The plane landed with a jolt at the Sacramento airport, “Ladies and Gentlemen please remain seated until we’ve taxied to our gate. Once again, thank you for flying with us today. On behalf of our crew we welcome you to Sacramento, California’s state capitol.”
Disembarking was easy from the first-class section. This was a great way to fly. I wasn’t under any illusion I’d ever be able to have this experience again; I mean seriously first class, so I was very appreciative of all the perks it offered.
Since I had packed most of my meager belongings, I was lugging a carry on around with me, and had two suit cases to collect. I left the secured area, hopped on the transport train, and headed towards the baggage claim area which was located on the first floor. The bright warm sun shining through the glass walls was such a weird contrast to the dark mood that seemed to have overcome me.
My mind kept going back to the one unchangeable fact: my aunt was gone.
She was the one person I took comfort in. If it all fell apart, she would be there to catch me unconditionally and completely. She was the safety net that allowed me the tolerance to deal with momma; she was the solid presence that kept me from despair.
Now that security was gone and I was feeling like there was not any firm ground under my feet, and there might never be again.
With those dark thoughts looming, I was unprepared for what was waiting for me as I descended the escalator leading to the baggage claim.
Chapter 2
Meet the Tribe
They were there.
All of them.
My aunt’s friends from her Women of Wine Country tribe were there waiting for me.
Each, and every one.
Sydney, I recognized right away from our face-time chats. She had shoulder length dark brown hair, with the front sides longer than the back and the ends in the front were blonde. She was shorter than I, cute and petite, with big round sage green eyes and olive completion. With her high, sharp cheek bones and mouth covered in a dark red lipstick, her appearance even more striking in person than her pictures and face-time showed. She was a kick ass lawyer who had been through hell and was now back. She was holding a carrier that I already knew held Agatha, Sydney’s feline sidekick, a gray tabby, who was better traveled than most of the people at the airport.
Jenna was easy to pick out: I’d seen her transformation since her divorce through social media, where she had a big following, as well as my aunts face-time chats. She was stunning and heads turned everywhere she went. She had long silver blonde hair, bright green eyes with long thick black lashes and a small athletic build. Even with all that, what really made people take notice was her dress and mannerisms. She was, without a doubt, everything we all wanted to be in beauty, and all the things we hoped we would get out of our beauty products. Jenna was a shrewd business woman who claimed her super power was… being underestimated.
Becca, in her trademark cowgirl boots; she’d paired with a light pink sundress, was one of those lucky gals who is naturally blessed with super healthy tanned skin, and was toned from working on her ranch. Becca also had the best head of hair, a riot of light and medium-brown curls that cascaded to the middle of her back. She had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, a color that did not come through in its intensity on social media or the face-time chats. Also, smart people did not want to be on the bad side of this woman. She would kick anyone’s butt without a thought.
Terra, the tallest and thinnest of them all, was standing towards the back of the group with her black, shiny, teased shoulder length hair. Her big black almond shaped eyes stood out beautifully against her porcelain skin. She was what we call in the south “uppity”, but she had a heart of gold and was one of my aunt’s dearest friends .
Juliette and Stella, sisters who looked so much alike you’d think they were twins, instead of the two-year age difference they had. The biggest physical difference about them was Juliette’s hair was a full head of untamable dark red curls that fell in a mass of perfect ringlets almost to her rear, and Stella’s long red hair was stick straight with blonde ends. They’re curvy gals with tiny waists who loved to run, hike, kayak and do all things outdoors. Both were so well educated my aunt Raquel and her tribe stopped counting their degrees and academic accomplishments years ago.
Francesca, I noticed, was the only one who hadn’t come. Sydney had brought me up to date on her sad situation when we had spoken, so I knew she was sitting by her husband’s side during his hospice care.
That thought brought me back around to where I was now. The ground started to become firm under my feet once again, with each step bringing me closer to the women. My foothold becoming more solid.
Walking as fast as I could in their direction, all my fears and sadness bubbled up and I burst out crying, overcome with grief, relief and just plain being scared. The building emotions made me walk faster and faster, until I was clumsily jogging, with my ginormous carry-on bag, the last few feet to them.
Maybe I wouldn’t be as alone as I thought. Maybe, just maybe, my aunt had left me in the hands of people who would be able to help hold me up .
But of course, I should have known she would. She never let me down, not once in all my years. I let her down plenty, especially when it came to momma - but she never, not once, let me down. It seemed even death wouldn’t keep her from taking care of me, seeing me through making sure I was okay, cared for, looked after and loved. Her and my uncle’s love was the only real love I’d ever known that didn’t come with terms, conditions and drama that would eventually result in heart break.
When they saw me and my reaction to them, they all, in unison, started walking quickly to me, and when I started jogging, they did too…towards me. As a group they all jogged, arms outstretched. They were all in varying degrees of crying, and when we finally came together, we pulled each other in for a big sobbing huddle of grief-stricken women.
In that moment, holding onto each other was all we had, all we knew, and all that mattered.
The crying, female “grief - huddle” lasted only a few minutes, because one of the two men who had accompanied the group reached in, pulled me out of the middle of the ladies and asked me, “Do you think you can identify your bags for us? Unless you want them to get sent back to Texas.”
This was said to me by the manliest man I had ever seen in my ever-loving life and I was from Texas!
He was hanging onto my arm, looking at me.
I looked down at his large hand on my arm and back up to his handsome face.
This guy was super tall, and I was tall! He was taller – way taller than me. He had a dark olive complexion, light gray eyes and short black hair; he looked like he was Mediterranean, Greek maybe. I dunno, it didn’t matter, cause Jumpin’ Jezebel’s he was fine!
He’d manage to shake me out of my grief. Honestly, I’d never been this close to such a fine specimen of man before and I didn’t know, if in my grief, I was seeing things, so I shook my head to clear my befuddled
brain.
“No?” He asked me in his deep voice, his light eyes going wide.
Oh shoot! He thought I was saying no about the…wait, what did he ask me again?
“Oh, knock it off, Cabe. Honey, wipe your eyes and let’s go find your suit cases ok?” Sydney handed me a tissue, interlocked her arm with mine, and together we started walking towards the baggage carousels, with the sniffling lady group following closely behind us.
“Who’s that guy?” I whispered to Sydney.
“That’s Cabe. Pretty isn’t he?”
“Yeah, that’s putting it mildly,” I said looking back over my shoulder, to see he was right on our heels, was looking at my rear, and could hear everything we said.
I flushed.
His eyes met mine and he smirked .
Jumpin’ Jezebels!
That was embarrassing!
After collecting my bags, we made it out of the terminal and piled into the SUV’s they’d brought to pick me up.
The car ride wasn’t bad at all, the ladies talked back and forth the entire time, and before I knew it, we made the turn that led to my aunt and uncle’s home Bellini Estates. Turning off the long road onto the estate was emotional. I’d never, not once, dreamed I’d be returning without Raquel and Antonio here to greet me.
The house they’d lived in sat directly across the brick courtyard from the winery, event hall and tasting rooms, and was surrounded by acres of my uncle Antonio’s beloved vintage grape vines.
The estate was just as I remembered it, if not more beautiful. I’d always fantasied about living there and how happy I’d be if this was my home. I guess soon, I was going to find out if that was going to be a reality or not.
Looking around, I felt a heaviness that seemed to hang over the estate. It was sad, but somehow comforting to be here, like I could possibly recapture some of the time I had lost with Raquel and Antonio.
The old buildings were reconstructed on the inside, but still had the amazing old clinker brick exteriors. All four three-story buildings faced the giant brick courtyard, and in the center, sat a magnificent bronzed water fountain. It was cast from a huge old gnarled grape vine, with a giant trunk, and water running down all of its twisted fingers into the shallow pool below. My uncle Antonio, had the sculpture cast from one of his oldest vines, and after my aunt, this was his pride and joy.
Murder & Mayhem Page 2