A Date With Fate

by Tracy Ellen

  Trent put his hands around his head, as if hugging his bursting brain. “My GOD, I love the women in your family. You are all so mean! Stella, please, you can pour anything down my throat—even leaf lard, whatever the hell that is. I promise I’ll swallow and die a happy man. I’m waiting for you to hit legal drinking age, and then I am moving in, girl.”

  My niece folded her arms and snickered. “Trent, aren’t you in school learning to be a Pastry Chef? Leaf lard is pig fat found deposited around the kidneys and loin of the poor pig. It’s used in baking because it doesn’t have much pork flavor and gives pastry crusts that flaky texture.”

  On a dirty laugh, he repeated the only word a man would hear. “The loin, eh?”

  Stella threw up her hands and walked away. The brat took the pink bag with her. Trent hopped the counter and followed, protesting loudly.

  Anna regularly insists on fairly evaluating the treats Aunt Lily drops off. Normally, I wouldn’t eat them if Anna paid me considering who delivered them. In fact, Trent was right and Aunt Lily must be slipping. The bag of chocolate chip cookies I’d brought over to Reggie’s the day I met Luke were the last offering Aunt Lily had delivered to Bel’s, and had also been from the Northfield Bakery. Chocolate chip cookies were easy for me to resist. Plus, I figured if the Behemoth sprinkled them with poison my brother’s cast iron stomach could handle it. It was an added bonus that Cousin Candy was there that day and ate several.

  Even my fear of being poisoned by Aunt Lily, or refined sugar and bleached flour, couldn’t hold out against a bag of fresh Persian Cruellers. They were finger-licking fabulous. Although, the whole leaf lard thing was now ricocheting around in my cranial cavity; right up there with those poor cow teats.

  ‘Damn, I hated when Stella ruined another one of my life’s little pleasures.’

  Chapter VIII

  “Would I Lie To You?” by The Eurythmics

  Saturday, 11/17/12

  10:23 AM

  Anna and I were finally heading out the back door to the double garage on the southeast edge of my property in the parking lot. I let out a long sigh of relief to finally escape the building for the next few hours.

  We hopped in Lady Liberty. I drove the couple of blocks through town, crossed the Water Street bridge over the Cannon River, and then we were headed north on Highway 3.

  Farmington’s a small town a straight shot north about twelve miles. This was our first stop on today’s agenda before heading to the Grand Avenue neighborhood in St. Paul. I didn’t waste any time. Verbatim, I started filling Anna in on my conversation with Crookie from earlier this morning.

  Anna got to know Crookie pretty well our senior year in high school. It was usually a package deal back then—if either Anna or I made a new friend, so did the other. Anna was even starting to like him-like him a few years back, but couldn’t be convinced to tell Crookie. It was frustrating for me because the giant nerd was completely oblivious of her interest. Anna always thought he was a hottie with a body. I thought they’d make a cute couple, but then there was “The Day of Infamy” and here we are today; cursing his soon-to-be ex-wife to hell and back.

  Anna is furious at Cheryl’s slutting it up during their marriage, never dreaming it was that bad since the beginning. Every time she interrupted my narrative to call Cheryl a splendidly foul name, I’d agree with an, “Amen, girlfriend!”

  It was immensely satisfying talking with someone who was as irate over Cheryl’s behavior on Crookie’s behalf as I was. This is why best friends are so terrific. Maybe when Cheryl resurfaced Anna and I would beat her up.

  When I arrived at the point of my total recall recital when I called Reggie to get the low down, I could see she was listening intently to every word. Anna wasn’t bouncing around in her seat any longer while throwing jabs and pretending to be a boxer beating the daylights out of Cheryl. She was biting the inside of her cheek and casting quick glances at me as I drove.

  This is a sure tell with Anna that she has information. She sometimes looks so guilty and furtive when she knows something I don’t; it takes all I have not to bust a gut.

  When I repeated Reggie’s inventive swearing answer about not screwing around with Cheryl, Anna’s face went hard and her lip curled in contempt.

  “I suppose you believed him?” She demanded, sniffing haughtily and tossing her head.

  “Sure, I guess so. Why would he tell me a lie about boinking Cheryl Crookston?” I asked casually.

  Anna snorted. “Oh, I don’t know, Junior. Let’s see, maybe because he can? Or he doesn’t know the meaning of the word truth? Or because your brother’s a total buttwipe?” Anna shrugged in disgust. “Take your pick.”

  “He’s that bad? Huh.”

  We were both quiet as I accelerated into the oncoming lane and passed a slow pickup truck. Anna was white-knuckling the dash, but I was thinking about my brother while looking at the countryside around me.

  Heading north to the suburbs of the Twin Cities, Highway 3 is two lanes traveling through the rural lands of harvested fields, pastures, and the occasional farmstead with windbreaks of evergreens. The landscape was drab and brown this time of year. Despite this, it still had its own kind of sepia, picturesque beauty. It had stopped drizzling again and was a partly cloudy morning of about forty degrees. Depressing to some, but considered balmy weather in November by us. We could just as easily be up to our privates in snowdrifts.

  Anna relaxed when we were back in our lane in one piece. “I know what that ‘huh’ sounds means. I didn’t want to drag you into the middle of this because I know how close you and Reg are, but with Cheryl missing everything is different.”

  “I agree. I have that “something is rotten in the state of Denmark” feeling about the hooker. I don’t want any trouble for Reg since we know he saw Cheryl that night.”

  Anna snorted again, louder. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about your darling Reggie having trouble over that detail.”

  I snorted back. “Good, but enough pussyfooting around. Tell me what you know, please.”

  Anna angled in her seat to face me. She got comfy. “Okay. I was baking a cake in the kitchen that night when Cheryl came over to Reggie’s.” Anna pretended not to notice my surprised glance. “Slut Cheryl started humping on your stupid brother the minute she was through the door. I shit you not, Junior. She jumped on him and he almost fell down! I never came out of the kitchen,” Anna lowered her voice and mumbled quickly, “because my shirt and bra were in the other room.”

  She hurriedly resumed in her regular voice, this time ignoring my open mouthed, surprised glance. “I peeked around the corner and saw everything; but Cheryl had no idea I was there. Your brother got her off him, she yelled some crap at him, he kicked her out, and she drove off just exactly like he said.” Anna reached over and smacked me on the leg. “Quit laughing, Anabel! It wasn’t funny.”

  “Ow! Hey, I’m driving here.” I couldn’t help it. I was laughing in relief Reg hadn’t been alone with Cheryl. Okay, I was cracking up even more at the thought of Anna topless in Reggie’s kitchen while Cheryl was in the living room putting the moves on my brother. This sure explained why he remembered the exact date and time.

  I brought myself under control. “Oh Anna, I’m sorry. I bet it sucked big-time.” I broke down giggling again and slapped the steering wheel. “But come on, you gots to admit it sounds like a French farce!”

  Anna crossed her arms and smiled smugly. “Sure I do, Junior. Just as soon as you admit what Luke’s truck was doing parked down the street from your parking lot very early this morning. Where was he, hmm? Playing with his cucumber in an alley?”

  ‘Ah, man. Have I said lately what a pain in the butt best friends can be?’

  Growing up the middle child with four siblings, you learn real fast there are two ways to deal with sticky situations. Go on the offense with no holds barred, or avoid, avoid, avoid. Both of these choices involve creating more confusion or interest in something more important than the is
sue causing you to be on the hot seat.

  Some might see a third alternative. Admit when you’re wrong. Take whatever punishment was coming to you like a man, get it over with, and move on.

  Fortunately, I realized real young I was not a man. My take, after plenty of experience, is that the third alternative of copping to your crime was rarely a good idea. This third alternative guaranteed you were most definitely getting a whipping in some respect. By acting on the choices of going on the offense or avoiding the issue altogether; there was still a hope in hell you could get off scot-free.

  We were in Farmington and I slowed down, putting on my left turn signal for the red light at Hwy 50.

  I glanced at my smirking friend. I chose to ignore what she said about Luke’s cuke and divert. “Okay, Betty Crocker, keep your secrets to baking the perfect pound cake. Please answer these questions, though. Did you drive over in your own car to Reggie’s that night or get dropped off? And where, pray tell, did you leave your shirt and brassiere?”

  “Yes, I drove over. I came from Rueb’s after having a late drink with Jazy and Tre J. As for my shirt…” She closed her eyes to recall the night while I grinned in amusement at the revealing booty call nature of her answer. “I left my shirt and bra, I think, on the card table in the dining room.”

  I sighed. It wasn’t too hard now to figure out what caused their nasty attitudes towards each other these past months. This next was not going to be pretty.

  “Reggie swore to God today he never had sex with Cheryl Crookston.”

  The light changed to the green arrow and I accelerated through the intersection. Anna audibly sucked in a breath, her face gone stark white. Her sprinkling of freckles across her nose stood out against the pale relief of her skin.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” she moaned incredulously.

  I knew that was a rhetorical moan, but still answered. “No, I am not kidding you. He swore he’s never touched her, and I believe him one hundred percent. You messed up, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, crap, I really think I messed up in the worst way, Junior.” Anna agreed, still moaning. Then she smacked the dash. “Why wouldn’t he swear to God when I asked him? He only stared back at me and wouldn’t answer. I went nuts thinking he had been with Cheryl! I thought the big dickhead went silent rather than swear.”

  Then she went quiet, biting her lip and staring out her window. I didn’t say anything, but waited for her to tell me the rest. I drove west to the main drag of Farmington’s small business district.

  “After Cheryl left that night, we had a knock-down about all this.” Angrily, she threw out her arm and almost nailed me, but I swerved. “I can’t get over he let me think he had lied! Junior, our fight went ballistic. I really went off on him and left pretty hysterical. It killed me to hear he had sex with Cheryl the night after our first, real date.” She added for clarification, “Our first date was that Friday night before she claimed he did her in the parking lot.”

  I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road. “I’m following so far.”

  Anna gave a scoffing laugh. “Reg said he only bought her a drink at the bar on that Saturday night because she cornered him. Yeah, right. I blew him off and didn’t believe him.” Her voice escalated. “My god, Cheryl’s exact words were ‘they fucked in his truck when the bar closed’. She didn’t even know I was there listening in the kitchen, so why would I believe she was lying?”

  Anna wailed those last few words. I saw her wipe her eyes with her hand. She reached down blindly for her purse, rooting for a tissue.

  She sniffed. “Our week together was so amazing. I wanted to tell you so bad, but didn’t want to jinx anything. It was all too new.” Anna sniffed again and laughed bitterly. “I know Reggie’s history better than anyone. The last thing I wanted was to be another dumb chick he nailed that thought she could change him. How sickening would that be? Oh Bel, I really believed him when he said it wasn’t that way with us….but he let me go that night and he hasn’t tried to get me back.” Anna covered her face with her hands, losing the battle to keep her composure. Her narrow shoulders were shaking with her sobs.

  In the course of normal events, Anna didn’t cry over guys. True, she was a romantic, but more apt to tear up out of happiness over a sappy movie or a newborn baby. Men she got mad with got a piece of her mind—not sobbed over two months later. I was feeling her misery. My brother had really gotten to her.

  I turned right and spotted a diagonal parking spot across from Ye Old Downtown Bake Shop. I zoomed in and turned off the engine.

  I reached over and rubbed Anna’s shaking back lightly, making comforting noises while she cried it out. I agreed with her that boys suck in general. I agreed with her their purpose for existing is to make our lives miserable, when they weren’t making us delirious. While I privately thought castration fell under the category off cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face, I agreed with her when, hiccupping, Anna cursed it was the solution to all her problems.

  Along with pissing off the males in my life, it was my day to take care of my sad and freaking out friends.

  Rubbing and soothing, I thought Anna was right to believe in Reggie’s words to her that he was serious, even if they tentatively dated only one week. I know my brother. If he told Anna he had feelings, he meant it. This certainly explained his crappy, snarky attitude these last couple of months. He must be going insane watching her start dating Jim Mardsen while not knowing how to stop it and still save face.

  At that idea, I chuckled inside. Reggie’s always had it too easy where women were concerned since he normally didn’t give a damn. If he was into Anna, he was like a babe in the woods stumbling around with emotions he didn’t know what to do with, probably didn’t want, and choking on his manly pride. I also understand why he wouldn’t swear to God to Anna.

  As I absently comforted the crying Anna, now thankfully winding it down, my mind was busy thinking how I could help them both out. It was a shame their fragile relationship had been busted to smithereens by Cheryl appearing on the scene. What are the odds you have to deal with a mental chick like her the first week you are going out with someone?

  I decided it would do no harm to share some of my theories on what went down that night with Cheryl. I hated seeing my friend so down and it might help. Anna has a mind of her own. She’d decide on the course to take with Reggie after I told her. Hopefully, her choice would involve mega amounts of torment.

  I love my brother, but due to an accident of birth I’ve had to listen to many sob stories from many women that have tried and failed to capture him. It’s one of the drawbacks of being a store owner and available to the public ten hours a day. I can run from these cast-off beauties, but I cannot hide. It’s no wonder I have so many rules about men. I’m sometimes amazed I don’t bat for the other side. I guess it just goes to support the nature versus nurture part of that debate.

  I squeezed Anna’s shoulder. “Sweetie-pie, if you are done being a little crybaby, I want to tell you something that could cheer you right up. It’s why I asked you those questions about your car and bra.”

  Anna gave me the evil eye while blowing her nose loudly into a tissue. She motioned for me to continue, but I was spooked. For a second there at Anna’s expressive glance,. I had actually caught a resemblance to Aunt Lily for a terrifying moment. I shook it off.

  “I think Cheryl absolutely knew you were there, or that some girl was there. That’s why she tried to kiss Reggie right away and claimed to have sex with him. Hell, she had just come from being in bed with some man we know for sure wasn’t Reg. It’s possible she’s a nymph-o, but I doubt she was coming over for more good lovin’ right then from my brother.

  “No, what Cheryl probably wanted was a place to stay for the night. It was late, and he was someone that popped in her head. Reggie’s known as an easygoing guy, he’d bought her a drink, and he lives down here. She’d think she could get what she wanted from him, right?”

  Anna was nodding c
autiously, curious to see where I was going. I had been thinking about this for awhile and it fit.

  “The skank knew she couldn’t go home to Crookie because of his voicemail saying he was divorcing her. It’s not that far to drive to the lake. I do remember Reg saying she and Tina hung around last summer a few times, don’t you? Wasn’t Tina’s boyfriend at the time helping Reg with the pontoon boat’s broken engine?”

  Anna looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I do remember that, now that you mention it. Why would Cheryl lie, though?”

  I raised my brows at Anna. “Good god, all that woman does is lie. It could be as simple as Cheryl being mad Reggie wasn’t home alone for her convenience, so she started talking smack for the sheer, mean hell of it.”

  Anna stared at me in stupefaction for a second. “Junior, I think you are so right! Oh boy, she did seem out of control. I was so pissed off at what she was saying; the crazy way she acted didn’t register so much. She could have seen my car. I didn’t hide it, and then the bra, too. It’s a hot pink, push-up. You know, one of the super-duper padded on the sides and underneath for that extra lift bra?” She gave me a disgusted look. “Wait, you don’t own one of those, do you?”

  On the off chance I didn’t get it, she made cupping motions with her hands. This move pushed her breasts up close to her chin. The type of padded bra she was so enthusiastically describing is a lethal weapon. Not only for the miracles it performed, but it’s also incredibly heavy and stiff.

  I shook my head at the image. “Right, a little hard to miss those bras. Here, look in the mirror.”

  I flipped down the visor above Anna so she could spiff up. I summarized while she vigorously rubbed mascara off from under her eyes.

  “Okay, my brother never nailed Cheryl Crookston, you wouldn’t believe him, and he refused to swear to God. Why, you ask? Because, dear Anna, he wasn’t thinking of you as a sister anymore.” I grinned. “Hear him roar, you were his potential mate, his woman. He thought you should believe in him with no safety net or water wings. It was a test, perhaps subconsciously on his part, but nevertheless a test.”