Family Fruitcake Frenzy

by Margaret Lashley

  Jorge and Goober headed toward Laverne’s house. Winky, however, waddled toward my front door. I opened it before the misfit elf had a chance to ring the bell.

  “Morning,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Mornin’, Val. Mind if we park here? The Dodge is deader’n a doornail in Laverne’s driveway. Don’t want to block her in with the Buick, too. I’m hopin’ to get the van up and running today.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  Winky looked past my shoulder into my house.

  “You need something else?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Can I use your crapper? Laverne kept bringin’ us stuff to ‘taste-test’ yesterday. I didn’t want to hurt the old lady’s feelings or nothing, so I ate what she give me. But Val, I think she darn-near poisoned me. I went home with a belly ache and woke up this mornin’ with a butt ready to squirt like a firehose.”

  I curled my upper lip. “That’s not good.”

  “Shore ain’t. But it could just be me. Winnie’s always tellin’ me I’m lack toast and tolerance.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it again. I sighed and let him in.

  “THE GUYS STARTED A holiday-light hanging business,” I said to Milly as she walked in the door at Griffith & Maas. By some miracle, I’d managed to get to work before her on that Tuesday morning. I felt pretty pleased about it and shot my boss a smug smile.

  “Is that so?” she said, barely glancing at me as she passed by my desk.

  My smile evaporated. “Yeah. Hold up, Milly. I’ve got mail for you.”

  Milly ambled absently back to my desk. “They call themselves the Three X-migos,” I said, and handed her a handful of envelopes.

  Milly sifted through the letters without seeing at them, then looked at a spot above my head and muttered, “Well, the Three Wise Men was certainly out of the question.” She gave a hint of a smile, then turned and shuffled toward the hallway.

  “You know, I’ve been watching them decorate Laverne’s place,” I called after her. “I have to admit, it looks pretty impressive so far. I told them they could do mine next.”

  Milly stopped in her tracks and turned around. “I thought you didn’t like decorating for the holidays.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t. But I wanted to encourage them. It’s better than them incinerating people’s pets in the backyard.”

  “Uh huh,” Milly replied. She turned again to head down the hall to her office. I got up and followed her.

  “Didn’t you hear me, Milly? The guys are barbequing dogs and cats on their grill! I saw a rat in their freezer!”

  Milly studied the envelopes and shuffled toward her office door. “That’s nice.”

  Nice? What the? My crinkled brow went slack. Oh my word! Milly has a secret!

  My friend Milly Halbert never was much of a multi-tasker. So whenever she was weighed down with the task of keeping a secret, she became incapable of doing anything else. Fortunately for me, the only thing easier than spotting when Milly had a secret was getting her to spill the beans. I followed her into her office and closed the door behind me.

  “All right, Millicent. What’s up?”

  Milly’s eyes widened at first, then went all googly. She flopped into her office chair. “Oh, Val! I’m dying to tell somebody. I heard Vance talking on the phone last night. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but...it just happened, you know?”

  “What? What did you hear?”

  “He was talking with someone about my ring size!”

  “Geeze, Milly! You’ve only been going out what – six months? And he already wants to marry you!”

  “Wha...?” Milly’s mouth flopped open. The letters fell from her hand. “Oh my word, Val. I wasn’t thinking engagement ring. I was simply thinking jewelry. You don’t think...no! He isn’t actually going to propose to me....is he?”

  A knot the size of a plum formed in the base of my throat. “I couldn’t say, Milly. I just couldn’t say.”

  I’D HAD ALL AFTERNOON to digest the news, but the thought of Milly marrying Vance was still causing me heartburn. If she did tie the knot, Vance Pantski would become her new best friend. Where would that leave me? Would I be reduced to the status of her lousy employee?

  No! Stop being so selfish! I scolded myself. That isn’t fair to Milly. I should be thinking about her happiness. Not worrying about my own. I pictured Milly and Vance saying their vows. Acid rose in my throat. I took a Tums and forced myself to smile every time she walked by. I told myself I could adjust. It would just take time.

  After work, I stopped at the little Publix grocery store in St. Pete Beach. I was out of Tums. And Ty D Bol. When I’d gotten home last night from discovering the guys’ rat-infested freezer, I’d succumbed to an OCD scrubbing frenzy that would have made Mr. Clean hang his head in slacker shame. I was also out of food in general, and I needed a dessert for Laverne’s party. I was mulling over the idea of making another fruitcake, too. There were only three days left to marinate it in rum. I figured if I baked it tonight, by Friday evening I could have it up to about fifty-proof....

  I was in the baking aisle studying the ingredients on a container of plastic-looking candied fruit when a familiar voice sounded behind me.

  “So you’re the one who’s responsible for keeping fruitcakes from going extinct.”

  I turned around. Cold Cuts, my friend and a master of disguise, stood there looking like...well...her cute, auburn-haired self for a change.

  “Hey, you! I hardly recognized you without a costume.”

  Cold Cuts laughed. “You’re looking good, Val.”

  “You, too! Hey, I was going to call you tonight. Laverne’s having a dinner party Friday night. You’re invited. Can you make it? I told her I wasn’t sure. You have a gig in Tallahassee, right?”

  “Not until Saturday,” Cold Cuts said. “Shooting a senator at 3 p.m.”

  I glanced around and made a squirrel face. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly.”

  “Ha ha. The holidays and are good money for me, Val. Seems like every politician in the state needs a holiday GIF to send out to their constituents.”

  “That sounds like interesting work.”

  Cold Cuts shrugged. “Not really. I make sure they dress the part and don’t come off looking too phony.”

  “Ugh. I bet that’s not easy.”

  Cold Cuts raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “You can say that again. I’m doing the mayor this evening.”

  “Like I said before, I wouldn’t say that too loudly.”

  Cold Cuts scrunched her eyebrows for a moment and grinned. “You have a point. How about, ‘I’m making a video with the mayor.’”

  “Better, but still sounds a little hinky.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “You’re right.”

  “How about, I have an appointment with the mayor?” I suggested.

  Cold Cuts bobbled her head, trying the idea on in her mind. “That works. Anyway, whatever you want to call it, I’m glad for the work. It pays the gas for the old RV.” Cold Cuts looked at me as if she were afraid she’d struck a nerve. “Do you still miss it?”

  I shrugged. “Not so much. It helps knowing you have it.”

  Cold Cuts smiled. “Thanks for that. So, what’s new with you?”

  “Nothing much. Oh, wait! Milly told me today that she thinks Vance is going to buy her a ring for Christmas. They’re moving pretty fast, don’t you think?”

  Cold Cuts shrugged. “I dunno. They’re both grownups. And they’ve been seeing each other for what – half a year? I’d say that was enough time to know if somebody’s looney toons. What about you and Tom? You guys have been going out for a couple of years now, right?”

  “No. Eighteen months and nine days. But I’m in no hurry.”

  “It sounds like you are. Counting the days?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I did count the days. This afternoon. But only after I heard about Milly. It was just a little informal tally. I was curious.”

 
Cold Cuts eyed me with skepticism. “Uh huh.”

  I frowned. “I’m serious. I want to take it slow with Tom. I mean like glacier slow. You know, I’ve never even spent the night at Tom’s place.”

  Cold Cuts smirked. “Sounds like a control issue to me.”

  I scowled. “Ha ha. Very funny. I hate to admit it, but every time I think about taking the next step with Tom, all I can see is the door to my cage slamming shut.”

  Cold Cuts’ left eyebrow raised and inch. “Really? So, whose hand is doing the slamming?”

  I scowled harder. “So, are you going to Laverne’s party or not?”

  “That depends. Are you bringing a fruitcake with you?”

  “Which one?” I sneered.

  Cold Cuts laughed, then her eyes grew wide. “Val! Speaking of fruitcakes, did you see the woman in the liquor aisle?”

  “What? No....”

  “Oh, man! She’s too good to miss. Come on!”

  Cold Cuts dragged me by the arm toward the back of the store. We scuttled along, heads down, to a four-foot tall bunker of canned green beans, where we hunched like soldiers expecting enemy fire. She peeked cautiously around the right side of the pyramid of cans. “Cool. She’s still there. Take a look!”

  Cold Cuts relinquished her position. As I scooted to the edge to take a look, she rambled on about the strange woman. “Can you believe it?” she squealed. “Bleach-blonde bouffant. Trailer-trash shirt...”

  One peek and I recognized her instantly.

  “...red cowboy boots! Ha ha! Have you ever seen such an absolute hayseed in all your life? And the unicorn keychain? Classic!”

  “Shhh! I know that hick! She’s my cous –” I lost my footing and fell, shoulder-first, into the stack of canned beans. They collapsed in on us like dominoes, then scattered and rolled every which way across the concrete floor like a herd of escaped mice.

  “Ugh! Get off me.” Cold Cuts grunted. I’d landed face-to-face on top of her.

  Tangled together, we wrestled to get up as hollow, clomping footsteps drew ever closer. From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red.

  “You gal’s all right?” Tammy asked. Her face registered surprise, then shock, then something I couldn’t define. “Why Cousin Val. I didn’t know you played it both ways. Wait ‘til your momma finds out.”

  “What?” I looked down and realized my hand had come to rest on Cold Cut’s right breast. I yanked it away, rolled off Cold Cuts and sat on the floor. “It’s not what you think –”

  I glanced over at Cold Cuts. She laughed, scooted over and kissed me on the cheek. “Are you all right, sweetheart?” she said in a deep baritone.

  Tammy’s eyes lit up. I could almost hear her dialing my mother’s number. Her lips curled into an evil grin. “Well, I’ll be.”

  My face grew hot. I lurched to my feet and forced some words from my mouth. “I’m glad to see you’re all right, Tammy. You disappeared on me.”

  Tammy rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. I came on vacation to have a good time, Val. Not go to bed at nine o’clock like an old fart.”

  Cold Cuts cocked her head at me. “You go to bed at nine o’clock?”

  I scowled. “Not always.”

  “What’s with all the booze?” Cold Cuts asked Tammy. My redneck cousin was lugging a plastic basket full of bottles of spiced rum. “Big party tonight?”

  “They don’t carry this kind in Greenville,” she replied, then shot me another evil grin. “I kind ‘a like it.”

  A tall, big-boned man walked up beside Tammy and looked at her expectantly. The guy was huge – over six feet and well over 200 lbs. He wore a dress shirt, jeans, and an expensive-looking pair of cowboy boots with silver plated, pointed toes. But the man’s most outstanding feature was his nose. It was a spot-on double for a flaccid penis. Once I saw it, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

  “This is Richard,” Tammy said. She lifted her chin and sniffed.

  Richard extended a giant hand toward me. I reached out to shake it, but even though his hand was as big as an oven mitt, I missed it midair. My eyes were fixed like Crazy Glue on his pornographic nose. When he spoke, his obscene proboscis wobbled up and down in a rude, yet hypnotic fashion.

  “Hello, there. My friends call me Rich.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dick.” I heard my misspoken words echo in the air as the blood drained from my face. I scrambled to erase my error. “I mean, Ditch.” My mouth was suddenly as dry as the Sahara. “I mean, Dick.” Paralysis overtook my brain.

  “Hi, I’m Cold Cuts,” a voice reverberated beside me, as if from underwater. “Nice to meet you Tammy. And Rich.”

  Tammy gave me the stink eye. “Yeah. You, too.”

  “As you can see, my girlfriend isn’t feeling too well,” Cold Cuts said. She wrapped an arm around my waist. “We’ve got to be going. Enjoy your holidays!”

  Before anyone could say another word, Cold Cuts tugged me toward the women’s restroom. She remained silent as a stone until she’d managed to shove me through the washroom door. Then she shook her head and burst out laughing.

  “Was it just me?” I asked, still too horrified to even stand up straight.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen a fake dick that looked as much like a real dick as that guy’s nose-dick did!”

  “I’m so embarrassed.” I shook my head, still in shock. “How are we going to get out of here?”

  Cold Cuts cracked open the bathroom door and peeked outside. “We’ll make a run for it...as soon as the cock is clear.”

  Good thing we were in a restroom, or I’d have peed my pants.

  WE HOLED UP IN THE john at Publix until Tammy, her large friend and their basket of booze went through the checkout line and out the door. Cold Cuts and I parted ways, with a promise to meet again at Laverne’s. I bought my groceries and candied fruit, and was unpacking them at home when I realized I’d forgotten the Ty D Bol. I guess, given the circumstances, two out of three wasn’t bad.

  Two fruitcakes were baking away in the oven when the doorbell rang. It was Greasy, the freckled-face elf.

  “Hi Winky. What’s up?”

  “Still can’t get the van to start, gaul-dang it.” He scratched his buzz-cut with the end of an oily wrench. “I think it’s the transmission. Anyways, wanted to let you know we’re near-bout done at Laverne’s. We can start at yore place tomorrow.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Got any lights?”

  “Huh?”

  Winky raised a pale, ginger eyebrow. “Christmas lights?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I think so. In the garage. Remember all those ones we found when we cleaned out this place?”

  “Lord, help,” Winky said, and shook his head. “Them thangs is prob’ly more tangled up than a skunk ape’s nostril hair.”

  I shrugged. “Well, they’re all I got.” I looked out the door, past Winky and across the road. Goober was hanging a yellow flyer on my neighbor’s front doorknob. My heart skipped a beat. I trotted past Winky into the front yard. All along the street, yellow papers attached to mailboxes and front doors fluttered in the breeze like harbingers of impending disaster.

  “What is he doing?” I asked, even though I already knew.

  “Advertisin’,” Winky said. He rubbed his belly underneath his green vest. “Now show me them lights.”

  I heaved a big sigh and walked back inside to open the garage. When I went outside again to show Winky the boxes, Cold Cuts drove up in Glad’s old RV.

  “Well hey there, young lady!” Winky hollered over to her.

  She waved out the window. “Hey back at you!”

  “What you doing up in these here parts?”

  “Just shot a video with...,” Cold Cuts eyed me and grinned, “uh...for the mayor.”

  “Ain’t you a big shot!”

  Cold Cuts laughed. “Nah. Did you know he lives right up the street?”

  “Shore didn’t.”

  “So what are you up to, Winky?”

  “We got
us a gig hangin’ Christmas lights. Just done Laverne’s place. Fixin’ to start on Val’s tomorrow.”

  “Oh! You ought to totally go check with the mayor. That guy’s so busy, he hasn’t even put up a tree yet.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea,” Goober said as he walked up the drive toting a stack of cheap yellow brochures. “Here, take a couple of these, Cold Cuts. Let me know if anyone you know might be in need of our services.”

  “Sure! Lots of people don’t like to do their own –” Cold Cuts glanced at the flyer, then back at Goober. “Pet cremation?”

  “Roger that.”

  I winced when Cold Cuts raised an eyebrow and shook her head. But my mouth fell open when she grinned and said, “Oh my word! That’s bloody brilliant!”

  Chapter Eleven

  WEDNESDAY WENT BY UNEVENTFULLY, as far as my life typically went. I got dressed, gave three derelict elves free reign of my house, bought a bottle of rum, and went to work.

  When I got home, things weren’t quite as I’d left them.

  For one thing, the guys had dragged out the entire contents of my garage and strewn it all over the place. A random passerby couldn’t be faulted for thinking a yard sale had recently detonated on my lawn. As I drove up, Jorge was standing in the middle of the junk heap, busily doodling in a notepad. Winky and Goober were rummaging through dilapidated cardboard boxes and playing tug-of-war with knotted strings of old holiday lights.

  Yesterday, Jorge had asked me if I’d had any ideas for a lighting design. I’d told him to surprise me. But today, it was Goober who delivered the biggest surprise. When I went to fetch some cold drinks for the guys, I discovered a large, black garbage bag inside my fridge. My gut dropped four inches and I nearly gagged.

  I slammed the fridge door and ran outside. I found Goober pilfering through an old box of Christmas decorations. Somehow, he’d managed to get glitter all over his moustache.

  “Come with me, Goober,” I demanded.

  “Aren’t you going to read me my rights?”