Down and Out in Bugtussle

by Stephanie McAfee

  “Look at him,” Stacey shouts at me. “Like the dang Energizer Bunny on erectile dysfunction medication!” She gets back to singing along with the lyrics and I feel pretty special that I’m able to sing along to a few myself. During the grand finale, confetti shoots down from the ceiling, the crowd presses forward even more, and I smell marijuana again. I look around, don’t see the smoker, but do spot our pal the humper bunny engaged in a massive make-out session with a chick in row four.

  When the lights finally come on, it’s a slow crawl up the aisle and out the door, and it is during this hike that I remember how hot my feet are and notice how bad they hurt.

  “Are you okay to drive?” I ask when we finally step out into the crisp, cool night air.

  “Hell to niz-oh,” she says. “How far are we from Beale Street?”

  “Just over there,” I say, pointing.

  “Something’s gotta be open,” she says. “I’ll be fine after I eat.”

  21

  Saturday, I wake up with a massive thumping in my head and a greasy feeling in my belly. Buster Loo perches up on my shoulder and starts sniffing around in my hair. He snorts a few times, then backs up and twists his head sideways as if to say, “So, smoking again?”

  “No, Buster Loo, it wasn’t me,” I say, reaching up to pet him. “But I do remember now why I stopped drinking the hard stuff. It’ll take me three days to get over this.” I roll out of bed, peel off the sheets, and haul them to the laundry room where I stuff them into the washing machine. “Hate that smell,” I mumble, closing the door behind me. I drag myself to the shower where I let the shampoo sit in my hair an extra five minutes. When I get out, I still smell smoke and look down and see a hot pink shirt and zebra print leggings. “Jeez,” I say, rolling them into a towel and taking the bundle to the laundry room. “Those are definitely next.” I’ve just put on an old long-sleeve T-shirt and my junkiest pair of cutoff sweatpants when I hear the doorbell ring.

  “Dang, girl!” Jalena says when I open the front door. “You look like you got run over by a dump truck. You must’ve had a big time last night.”

  “Thank you,” I say, motioning her inside. “I did have a rather large time. I partied like it was 1989 and I ain’t even joking.” I ease into the kitchen and paw around in my designated medical cabinet until I find some aspirin.

  “I came to help,” she says, holding up a large paper sack.

  “With what?”

  “With whatever you need,” she says. “You’ve spent nearly every Saturday for the past two months working for free at the diner and now I’m here to help you get this place ready for a party.”

  I glance around my house. “It is ready.”

  Jalena smiles. “Oh no, it’s not.” She empties her bag onto the counter and I see all manner of red and white and blue paraphernalia.

  “What in the world is all that?” I ask as I pour Sprite into a glass packed with crushed ice and cherries.

  “All of this is how you give someone a proper going away party.” She smiles. “And I’ve just had the best idea.” Her smile somehow gets wider. “I’m going to host parties. All kinds of parties. Full setup with invitations, decorations, and, of course, the finest catering service. I’m even thinking about taking a cake decorating class. I could do birthdays, showers, and anniversaries, whatever.”

  “In addition to the restaurant?”

  “No, in conjunction with the restaurant!” She starts picking through the decorations. “I’ve always wanted to be a party planner, and when I was in that store this morning, I wanted to buy everything I saw. Then it hit me—I can host parties in the special-occasion room.”

  “That is a great idea,” I say, thinking she obviously likes hard work a lot more than I do.

  “So, I’m starting tonight,” she says cheerfully. “You just have to help me with the posters.”

  “Posters?”

  “Yes, posters! We have to make some posters! You can outline the letters and I’ll color ’em in.”

  “Okay.” She puts a poster board on the table along with a few pencils and some markers. “I have all that stuff, you know,” I say.

  “Yeah, I know, but I wanted to have some of my own to keep at the diner.”

  “Fair enough.” I take a pencil and sketch out “God Speed” across one poster, “We” and a giant heart on another, and “SGT Dorsett” on the third. Jalena colors in the letters while I work on the heart. “Is that what it’s supposed to say?” I ask her.

  “Looks good to me,” she says. When we finish, we take the posters out and tack them up on the back porch. Then she breaks out streamers, flags, balloons, the works. I tack and tape each and every corner, border, and edge she tells me to and when we’re done, I must admit that it looks pretty cool. I also must admit that I’m quite relieved to be finished because my head won’t stop thumping.

  “This looks great, Jalena,” I say. “How much do I owe you for my part of all this?”

  “Girl, I’m trying to advertise. Don’t be worried about stuff like that.” She shoots me a look. “How much do I owe you for letting me use your backyard area to show off my skills? How much do I owe you for all the times you’ve helped me? Huh?” And then I figure out what really happened. Jalena got the idea to decorate for this party but had no intention of taking any money from me, so while she was looking around the party supply store, she came up with the idea about the party hostess thing. Or maybe she does want to be a party planner.

  “Have you really always wanted to do this?” I ask, testing my theory.

  “Yes, I have.”

  “I’ve never heard you mention it before today. And you’re kind of famous for not wanting to cook when you’re not at work, remember?”

  “I’ll be at work,” she says simply. “Honestly, it’s something I’ve had on my mind for a while and then when I saw a whole aisle of birthday stuff on clearance this morning, I thought, ‘I need every bit of that.’”

  “Alrighty then,” I say, laughing. So be it. I fix her a sandwich and we eat out on the porch with Buster Loo sitting like a Coke bottle at our feet. When she leaves, I take another dose of aspirin, put on my shades, and take him for a turtle-speed walk around the block. When I get home, I call Stacey Dewberry to make sure she’s still alive and she acts like I’m crazy when I ask her if she’s hungover.

  “Go get yourself a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit,” she says. “Works every time. I’ve already mowed the yard and washed my car.”

  “Jeez,” I say. “Your car was spotless yesterday.”

  “Well, it’s even more spotless now.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask.

  “Ace, seriously, go get yourself a biscuit. And a hash brown or two.” I ask her if she’s talked to Freddie; I’m worried about him bringing Cameron Becker, because I’m even more not in the mood for drama than usual, thanks to this headache that I’m almost sure is going to last for the rest of my life. She hasn’t heard from him.

  “You know,” she says, “I don’t even have his phone number.” I realize I don’t, either, but he has both of ours. I look out the window and start worrying about those pictures he took of us last night.

  I call Lilly, but she doesn’t answer. Neither does Chloe. I make my bed, straighten up my house, and take another shower. I get dressed in some decent, but comfortable clothes, then go into the living room where I shut the blinds and close the curtains. I turn down my air conditioner and stretch out on the sofa. Buster Loo comes and curls up beside me. And that’s where I am when Jalena and Ethan Allen show up at six o’clock. I roll off the couch, take another dose of aspirin, and help Jalena as she fusses over the final decorations. Ethan Allen is busy tending the grill and slicing open packs of Italian sausage hot dogs. Buster Loo is watching his every move.

  “Did you bring your special toppings for those dogs?” I ask Jalena.

  “Right over there,” she says, pointing to a Crock-Pot on the bar. “I brought that in and plugged it up while you were
over there snoring like a lumberjack.” She glances at Ethan Allen. “Y’all kill me, leaving all your doors unlocked all the time.”

  “Nothing to worry about around here,” Ethan Allen tells her, and I suspect it’s not the first time he’s had to tell her that.

  Chloe and J.J. show up next, and Chloe can’t stop bragging on what an amazing job Jalena has done with the decorations. I stop myself just before I blurt out that Jalena could host her baby shower. I look at J.J., who has joined Ethan Allen next to the grill, and think about how sad it is that he has a baby on the way and doesn’t even know it. Serious as he is, I think he would be very excited. Not my business, I think as I rearrange forks and napkins.

  “So, Chloe,” I say when it’s just the two of us, “where’s your favorite brother-in-law?”

  “Who, Tate?” Chloe asks. “Oh, I must’ve forgotten to mention to him that there was a party.” She smiles, and I spend the next few minutes trying to figure out why I’m so disappointed. Don’t get your hopes up, moron! I think. There’s probably a very good reason he’s still single at his age. I decide to ask Chloe about that later. I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell me all about his romantic woes.

  More people drift in, a casserole here, a red velvet cake there. By the time Lilly and Dax arrive, my backyard is packed and every available space for a dish is taken. I go into the kitchen and pour my special homemade banana ice cream into the mixer.

  Before we start eating, J.J. gets everyone’s attention and gives a short and right-to-the-point speech about how lucky we are to have Dax here in this town and how grateful we’ll all be upon his safe return. Everyone claps while Lilly stands beside Dax, beaming at the crowd.

  “Obviously, she’s got her medication leveled out,” Chloe whispers.

  “Thank goodness,” I say. “Can you imagine how bad this would be if she didn’t?”

  “It would be bad,” she whispers. “Very, very bad.”

  I don’t get in line until everyone there has fixed a plate and I’m sorely disappointed when I get to the hot dog table and find that Jalena’s Crock-Pot of toppings has been scraped dry. Dammit! I think, picking up the mustard. Stacey Dewberry shows up after everyone has finished eating and entertains us with a glorious story about a cheese ball gone horribly wrong. I assure her that we’ve got plenty of food and tell her to help herself. Stacey makes a round of the tables, and when it appears she can’t pile anything else on her plate, I motion for her to join us on the porch.

  “This food looks good,” she says. “Down-home country cookin’ can’t be beat. Is there any tea?” Chloe goes to get her a cup and I point to the empty chair next to me.

  “Join us.”

  Lilly and Dax are snuggled up in the swing. Lilly is sipping some kind of fruity-looking drink, and Dax is working on his second cup of homemade banana ice cream. Chloe is relaxing in one lounger and J.J. is leaning back in the other. Logan Hatter is perched in the chair directly across from me and Stacey is between us. Jalena is inside and Ethan Allen is hanging out with a group of people at the picnic table in the yard. Freddie Dublin and Cameron Becker have yet to show up.

  “Stacey almost killed me last night, y’all,” I say, picking at a piece of cake on my dessert plate. “I had a big time, but I can’t hang with her.”

  “What’d y’all do and why wasn’t I invited?” Logan asks. I look up at him just in time to see him pop a whole cake ball into his mouth.

  “We went to a concert,” I tell him.

  “I’m sorry, Coach Hatter,” Stacey says. “I only had two tickets, but you could’ve ridden up there with us. I didn’t know.”

  “You could’ve ridden in the back of the Iroc, Hatt,” I tell him, and everyone starts laughing. “With the liquor bottles.”

  “You would’ve given me Ace’s ticket, wouldn’t you, sweetie?” Logan Hatter asks, and poor Stacey looks nervous and confused.

  “Uh…,” she says, then takes a big bite of her hot dog.

  “No, she wouldn’t have, Logan Hatter!”

  “Who did y’all see?” Chloe asks.

  “Poison and Def Leppard,” I answer because Stacey is still chewing.

  “Classic rock,” Dax says, and Stacey gives him an odd look.

  “Well, how was it?” Lilly asks.

  “I almost OD’d on ibuprofen and aspirin today,” I say. “Does that give you a good idea of how great it was?” I stand up. “Who needs another drink?”

  Logan, Lilly, and J.J. say that they do and Dax asks if he can please have another cup of ice cream.

  “I can get you a bigger cup, Dax,” I tell him. “And refill it as many times as you want.” I glance at Chloe, who is giving me a nervous look.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I don’t need a drink, thank you.”

  “Well, of course you don’t, Mrs. Stacks,” Stacey says. “You can’t drink while you’re pregnant!” I don’t know if she’s really talking that loud or if I just imagine it, but as soon as she gets to the end of that sentence, it seems as if time comes to a screeching halt. Everyone on the porch stares at Stacey, who is in the process of carefully applying a spoonful of spinach dip to a chunk of Hawaiian bread. I look at Ethan Allen, all the way out in the yard, and even he is staring. Or maybe he just caught a glimpse of everyone’s expression and is wondering what’s going on.

  22

  “What in the world are you talking about, Dewberry?” Logan asks. He starts laughing, then stops. J.J. is looking at Chloe who is staring at Stacey Dewberry like she wants to kill her. I peek at Lilly, who shrugs and shakes her head as if to say, Don’t look at me to say anything.

  “Who told you that?” Chloe asks, giving me an evil look. I shake my head and put up my hands.

  “No one,” Stacey says, oblivious as she forks a meatball and then a small square of cheese. She looks up at Chloe. “You were sick and ill as a hornet for a while and now you’ve got the happy, healthy glow of a woman with child. It’s unmistakable.” Stacey sees the look on Chloe’s face and then glances at J.J. “Oh my stars,” she mumbles. She puts down the meatball. “Oh no. I can’t believe I just did this.” J. J. Jackson doesn’t say a word, just sits and looks at Chloe. Stacey stands up and picks up her plate. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Stacks. I really am. Mr. Sheriff Jackson, I don’t know what to say.” Stacey is on the verge of tears, but she continues. “I just assumed that if I could figure it out, anybody could.” She pauses, then looks like she wants to die. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t mean anything by that.” No one says a word because, hell, what could any of us say? “Boy, I have fubared this get-together beyond belief,” she says, and then quickly walks away.

  “Fubared?” Lilly looks at Logan, who shrugs and looks at Dax.

  “Let him tell you.” She looks at Dax expectantly.

  “Fucked up beyond all recognition,” Dax whispers.

  “Well, it certainly is that,” Logan remarks.

  “Shut up, Hatter!” I hiss. “Stacey!” I call. “Stacey! Wait!” I look at Chloe. “I swear I didn’t say a word to her. You have to believe me.” Chloe looks mad as hell and doesn’t say a word. She shakes her head and her bottom lip starts to tremble. I watch Stacey toss her plate in the garbage and walk out the gate. I want to go after her but know I can’t walk away from Chloe.

  Ethan Allen appears on the edge of the porch. “What’s going on up here?” he asks. “Everything okay?” I look down at him, shake my head “No,” and he says, “Okay, well, I’m going to go over here and, I don’t know, just go on over…Okay, so I’ll talk to y’all later.” He makes haste back to the picnic table.

  “Chloe,” J.J. says, and I bristle at the tone of his voice. “Could I please have a word with you in private?”

  “Of course,” Chloe says. She stands up, puts on a brave face, and looks at Dax. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I wish you all the best. Thank you so much for your service. I will pray for your safety every night.” She looks at me. “I have to go now.”

  “I’ll talk
to you tomorrow, son,” J.J. says to Dax and, without making eye contact with anyone else, turns to follow Chloe into the house. I look at Lilly, who shakes her head, and we all sit in silence for a minute.

  “Well, holy shit,” Dax says finally. Ethan Allen walks up and sits down in one of the loungers.

  “Where’s Jalena?” I ask.

  “Talking to Lulu Cadle about a birthday party,” he says. “What’s going on?”

  “For real,” Logan Hatter says emphatically. “What is going on?”

  I look at Lilly and she stares back at me like a frightened kitten. “I’m not saying a word,” she says.

  “About what?” Ethan Allen asks.

  “Well, it would appear the cat is already out of the bag, sister,” Logan says to Lilly, then looks at me with his eyebrows raised.

  “What cat and what dang bag?” Ethan Allen practically shouts. I look at him and then at Logan, thinking they’re worse than most women about being nosy and gossiping.

  “Apparently, Chloe is pregnant,” Logan tells him. “According to Stacey Dewberry, anyway. Which isn’t really that big of a deal seeing as how they’ve been together for what? A year now?”