“He means Norman’s straight,” Maisy clarified, somewhat surprised at her apparent ability to comprehend Rudy’s fractured English.
Keller turned to Maisy. It didn’t take too much imagination to picture his head as a lit stick of dynamite, ready to detonate.”
Well, Maisy?” he said through clenched teeth.
This was all too surreal. Maisy almost felt as if she were floating above the entire scene. She wished to hell she could. Anything but to have to be right there, smack dab in the middle of this horrific mess.
The good news was that she couldn’t imagine anything worse happening to her in this lifetime. Nothing.
And then the doorbell rang.
Big Willy yanked the door open. “Howdy, Cousin Norman. You’re just in time to join the party.”
“I got your message to meet you here, Wilson. What’s this all about?” Norman said as he entered Maisy’s foyer.
“You gotta set this here friend of Maisy’s straight.” He gestured toward Keller. “Somehow he’s got the notion that you and Maisy’s husband are homos. Come on in, cuz.”
Maisy felt her brain crackle, crumble and fry, a moment before agonizing shards of red-hot panic shot through her entire being, splitting her skull and disintegrating her on the spot.
Aside from cringing when he saw Keller glaring back at him, Norman stood frozen, fixed to the spot like a statue. He didn’t even giggle.
After a small eternity, he said, “Me? Gay? That’s ridiculous, Wilson. Preposterous. You know better than that.”
“Well, I thought I did.” He eyed Norman suspiciously.
“Macho-man Norman is right, Big Wilson. He is ridiculous,” Rudy assured, immediately scrambling to Norman’s side and securing his arm around his shoulder. “He is the opposite to gay. He is manly and virile in his sex. He wishes he could have sex with Maisy every time he looks at her.”
Everyone’s attention was momentarily on Rudy, as they slanted him curious looks of wonder, trying to digest his odd assertion.
Maisy groaned. The poor guy was trying so hard to be of help that, regardless of what he’d just said, her heart twisted.
“Well, that ain’t hard to believe,” Big Willy said. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to have sex with Maisy once they get a gander at that sweet, juicy little body of hers? Heck, I’ve tried to often enough myself.” He guffawed. “No offense, Rudy. In fact, just before you got here, Cousin Norman, we was just tellin’ this here Keller fella all about our little Maisy havin’ a blessed event soon.”
With a swift look to Maisy and the others, a muffled curse escaped Norman’s lips.
“Hey, Keller,” he said weakly. “How’s it going?”
“You mean before or after I entered the Twilight Zone?” Keller responded. “Norman, can you tell me what the heck is going on? Nobody here seems to be able to do that for me.”
“Eh…”
“We’ve got an Austrian claiming to be your elderly client one minute,” Keller said, “your lover the next and, finally, Maisy’s husband and the father of her unborn child.”
Wide-eyed with a panicked expression of dread across his features, Norman erupted into that atrocious giggle of his. “I can explain everything,” Norman said quietly. “A little bit later. Trust me, Keller.”
“Is it me, Norman?” Keller asked, clapping his hands against his chest. “Am I the one who’s nuts here?” Before Norman could answer, Keller laughed, conking the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Listen to me! I’m asking the nuttiest one in the bunch for logical answers. Oh yeah, I’m losing it. I’m definitely losing it.”
Norman sidestepped toward Keller, trying to sling his arm around the man’s shoulder but settling for just a hand instead because Keller was too tall.
“Excuse us for just a moment,” Norman said, leading Keller away from Maisy, Rudy and Big Willy.
“Yes,” Maisy added, “excuse us.” There was no way in hell she was about to let Norman get Keller alone so he could concoct yet another harebrained story.
“Keller,” Norman said in a scheming whisper, “I guarantee you that all of this can be fully explained to your satisfaction. I, uh, I know that it must seem a little odd—”
“A little odd?” Keller barked a laugh. “That’s a gross understatement, Norman. “What, are you guys a pack of wild swingers or wife-swappers or something? Is that what this is all about?” Maisy gasped at that. “Well, you can count me out because I don’t want any part—”
“How could you think such a thing, Keller?” Maisy asked.
Keller’s response was a withering glance.
“No, no. Of course we’re not,” Norman cut in, with a finger to his lips, shushing Keller. Yanking him closer, he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “It’s just that Maisy and I had to come up with a believable story to tell my cousin, Wilson, so he’d think I was this big macho guy. He can’t find out I’m gay, Keller. He just can’t.”
“Right,” Maisy chimed in. “And the rest of the story we came up with was to get Big Willy to finally leave me alone once and for all, see?”
“No.”
Norman licked his lips fretfully. “Okay, look, just play along, Keller, and I promise I’ll explain everything just as soon as Wilson leaves, okay? Just follow my lead.”
“And I suppose you’re going to explain everything about the Boris and Natasha thing too.”
“That? Oh,” Norman said, waving his hand in a dismissive fashion, “that’s easy.”
“Go on,” Keller said through a challenging smirk.
“Uh, well…go ahead and tell him, Maisy.”
“Yes,” Keller agreed. “Go ahead and tell me, Maisy.”
“Eh…okay. You see, Norman and I were doing a costumed rehearsal for our skit.”
Keller just gave her a blank look.
“For the first annual Persimmon Travel Mystery Dinner,” Maisy explained.
“We’re doing something like a live version of the old Rocky and Bullwinkle Show,” Norman added. “That’s why we were Boris and Natasha.”
Keller looked from Maisy to Norman and back again. “Uh-huh. And you just happened to choose my sister’s real estate office for the rehearsal. The same sister who detests Maisy. The one who makes Maisy gag, right?”
“Exactly.” Norman grinned and nodded. “See? I told you it was easy to explain. Maisy and I will tell you about everything else later, Keller. Trust me.” He gave Keller a reassuring pat on the back.
Returning his attention to Maisy, Norman gave her a pitiful I-hope-you-don’t-hate-me-too-much smile. Funny, for some reason, she couldn’t even muster the energy or inclination to glare at him anymore. It was as if she had somehow transcended beyond anger. Maybe she was losing her mind. Yes, that would be good. She could just lock herself away inside her head and never have to come out and face Keller Fitch again.
She glanced up at Keller who, understandably bewildered, was mumbling to himself as he went back to join Rudy and Big Willy. Then Maisy looked over at Rudy. The big well-meaning German had turned an odd shade of green and looked as though he wished he’d rather be on a slow boat to the Fatherland than embroiled in this mess. One glance at Big Willy told Maisy the Texan was having a grand old time enjoying the madcap state of affairs.
“Maisy,” Norman whispered, clasping her elbow. “Maisy, honey,” he said again when she didn’t respond.
“Hmmm?” Maisy was having a hard time concentrating. Being mired in this chaotic web of lies and deceit had clearly taken its toll. She figured the hard drive of her brain had probably reached maximum capacity and was functioning on standby.
“I’m sorry, Maisy. I got Wilson’s voicemail about him being on his way to your place too late to stop him,” Norman said. He did his best to smile, but the attempt was meager at best.
Freeing her elbow from his gasp, Maisy took Norman by the hand and led him back to the foyer to join the others.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, won’t you?” she said with what she believ
ed was a pleasant smile. “Just make yourselves at home and get comfortable. I have something to attend to.” Humming mindlessly, she swept past the four men standing in her foyer and headed into the kitchen.
“Maisy?” Keller called after her. “Norman, what’s wrong with her? She looks like she’s zoned out.” The kitchen was close enough for Maisy to hear him. She nodded in accord with his assumption.
“She’s stressed,” Norman said. “We’ll have a great laugh over it later—trust me.”
A moment later he was in the kitchen with Maisy.
With Hershey panting attentively at her heels, Maisy poured Godiva chocolate liqueur into the biggest glass she could find. Bottles of Baileys, Kahlua and dark rum stood nearby.
“Jesus, Maisy, you must have a good twelve ounces of booze in that glass. What the hell are you doing?”
“Killing myself.”
“With chocolate liqueur?”
“Why not? Can you think of a better way to go?” She tendered a weary expression of defeat and resignation.
“But honey, you’ll make yourself awfully sick before you die.” Norman tried to take the glass from her. “You’ll throw it all up.”
With a firm hold on her glass, Maisy went to the refrigerator and retrieved a can of Hershey’s chocolate syrup, which she proceeded to pour into her glass.
Slapping his hand to his face and groaning, Norman made another attempt to take the glass from Maisy.
Maisy held it close to her chest, with a threatening glare that dared Norman to interfere with her death-by-chocolate plans.
“Chocolate never makes me sick. If this doesn’t kill me, I’ll finish the job with the Baileys, rum and Kahlua.”
Setting the glass on the counter, away from Norman’s reach, she dragged over a kitchen chair and stood on it, reaching for the small cabinet above the refrigerator. When she got down, she was cradling a decorative cake tin as if it were a precious treasure.
Maisy opened the tin and Hershey became more attentive than ever as he sniffed the air and licked his chops.
“Aw, you don’t want to do this, honey,” Norman said, spying the cache of chocolate candy in the tin. “You’ve come much too far to backslide now. You’ve got more respect for yourself than that.” He reached in to seize a chocolate kiss and Maisy slapped his hand away.
“Respect!? Bullshit. Did you hear what’s going on in there?” She pointed toward the living room. “They’re in there talking about God knows what, Norman. No, scratch that. Wilson’s probably telling Keller about how Rudy supposedly pleasured me under the table in the restaurant!” She slapped her hand against the kitchen counter, rattling the three liqueur bottles and her tumbler.
Norman cringed. “Look, Maisy, I—”
Pointing her index finger at the floor, Maisy twirled it slowly. “My life is doing a slow, swirling flush down the toilet, Norman, and you—the person singly responsible for this entire catastrophe—have the gall to ask me about self-respect?”
Maisy took a deep breath then chugged a good portion of the viscous chocolate mixture before turning back to Norman and heaving a shrug.
“My life is ruined.” She unwrapped a Snickers bar. “So why not eat my way back into the oblivion of obesity? I’ll never be able to face Keller again as long as I live after tonight anyway.” She shoved as much of the bar into her mouth as she could and bit, chewing furiously.
“Did I hear my name?” Keller said as he came around the corner.
Maisy eyed Keller and took a swig from her gargantuan tumbler of chocolate elixir. “Go away,” she mumbled around her mouthful of chocolate.
“What is that she’s drinking? It looks like maple syrup.”
“Worse. Chocolate liqueur,” Norman answered with a tsk. “Laced with chocolate syrup. Followed by a Snickers chaser.”
“Jesus.” Keller shuddered. “Maisy, you’ll make yourself sick with all of that sweet stuff. Not to mention what you’ll be doing to…to your baby,” he said in a strained voice.
“Baby? Hah!” Maisy said before glugging again from her glass.
“Keller,” Norman said, “you don’t understand. Maisy’s not really preg—” Norman stopped abruptly when Big Willy came into the room. “Uh, Keller’s right, Maisy, you don’t want to harm the baby.” Norman punctuated the sentence with that damned infernal giggle of his.
Maisy curled her lip at Norman. “You’re worse than slug-slime, Norman. After my suicide-by-chocolate, I swear to God, I’m going to come back and haunt you until the day you die.” She swigged from her tumbler again. “I’ll gleefully make your life a living hell.”
She walked over to Norman, who had that familiar panicky grin plastered on his face, and jabbed her finger hard against his chest. “Don’t you dare break forth with that maddening giggle of yours again, do you hear me? And never, ever, utter the words Trust Me again. Ever!”
“Feisty little lady you got yourself there, Rudy,” Big Willy said, elbowing the German, who’d come into the kitchen on Big Willy’s heels.
“Ja, my little wife Maisy is—”
“Shut up, Rudy,” Maisy blurted, pointing at him as she downed the last of the liqueur and smacked her lips. “You’ve already put both feet in your mouth tonight, there’s no more room in there.”
Immediately clamping his mouth shut, Rudy looked seriously wounded—forlorn, in fact.
“Aw hell. Now see what you made me do, Norman?” Maisy said.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. The poor sweet guy is just trying to help me out of this screwy situation—the one you hatched in that miniscule brain of yours—because he cares for you so much.” Maisy’s words began to slur and she swayed a bit. “And now you made me go and hurt Rudy’s feelings. I’m sorry, Rudy. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I think I’m missin’ somethin’ here.” Big Willy frowned. “What are y’all talking about, Maisy? You don’t mean to tell me that there really is something to that hogwash about Cousin Norman and this foreign fella bein’…bein’… Shoot. I can’t even bring myself to say it. It makes my belly ache just thinkin’ about it.”
“Of course not, Wilson,” Norman said. “I’m just as straight as you are. Isn’t that right, Keller?” He shot a pleading look Keller’s way.
Heaving a deep breath, Keller looked at Norman for a small eternity. “Sure,” he said finally. He turned to Big Willy, grinning and clapping the Texan on the shoulder. “I was just joshing with you. Norman’s a man’s man if ever I saw one—a real lady killer.”
Big Willy looked mighty relieved as he swiped his hand across his forehead and gave forth with a resounding whew!
Mouthing a silent thank you to Keller, Norman smiled. “Maisy didn’t mean anything, Wilson,” he said. “It’s just the alcohol talking. She gets like this when she drinks.” Norman made a show of tsking and shaking his head in dismay. “Poor girl just rambles nonsensically.”
“I most certainly do not!” Maisy stated emphatically.
“Yes you do,” Norman and Keller chorused back to her.
Maisy gasped. “I resent that, gentlemen. I can handle my alcohol just as well as any of you can.”
“Yeah, I forgot,” Keller said with a gleam in his eye. “I’ve caught a glimpse of your amazing fortitude a few times now, as I recall.”
“I only got a teensy drunk those other times, Mr. Smarty Pants, because I didn’t have any experience with alcohol then.” She hiccupped and giggled.
“Like you do now,” Keller said.
Maisy nodded confidently. “Exactly.” And then she hiccupped again. “I am a cosmopolitan woman of the world now.”
“You know how novice drinkers are, Wilson,” Norman said. “Maisy rambles when she’s had too much to drink. Like I said before, pay no attention to her.”
Big Willy nodded. “‘I understand.” He chuckled. “Ladies, especially, can’t hold their liquor none too well.” He turned to Maisy, who was still swaying. “Maisy, honey, I gotta run. I just wanted to stop over here on
my way to pick up that cute little filly you and Cousin Norman fixed me up with.”
He winked and Maisy knew what was coming next. She snatched the bottle of Baileys and turned the neck upside down into her glass.
“Get ready, Keller,” she said. “’Cause here comes the really good part.” She splayed her fingers, staring intently as she flexed them repeatedly. “You’re going to hate me forever.”
Chuckling, Keller put his arm around Maisy’s shoulder, rubbing her arm in a comforting manner. “Sweetheart, I might be thoroughly confused and a bit angry, but I can promise you that I’ll never hate you. Ever.” He watched her fingers opening and closing. “What are you doing with your hands, Maisy?”
Teetering in place, she examined her outstretched fingers for another moment. “Well, it appears that my hands and fingers are still working, so that means I’m not dead yet. Cheers!” she said, gulping back half of what she poured out, following it with another bite of her Snickers bar.
Keller groaned. “Aw, Maisy, I don’t even want to think about how you’re going to feel in the morning.”
“No problem. I will feel nothing because I will be dead. Chocolatcide,” she said, laughing. “Like suicide, but all done with chocolate. What a way to go!” She took another bite of chocolate, making satisfied little sounds as she savored it.
Big Willy guffawed. “She surely is cute and funny when she’s tipsy, ain’t she?” He elbowed Rudy. “I think you’ll be gettin’ lucky tonight, Rudy. Know what I mean?”
The silence in the room was deafening. Except for Maisy’s hiccup.
Big Willy shrugged and continued, “Anyways, I just wanted to thank Maisy and Cousin Norman for makin’ me the happiest cowpoke alive, that’s all.” Winking, he pointed an imaginary pistol at Norman and Maisy.
Licking his lips nervously, Norman placed his hand against his cousin’s back. “Why don’t I walk you out to your car and you can tell me all about it,” he said.
“Heck, no, cousin. I want Maisy to hear this too—whether the little filly is tipsy or not.” He laughed. “Now I know this might sound like fast work, but when true love hits, it hits fast and hard, I always say. Sharon and I spent the afternoon together gettin’ to know each other—real good, if ya know what I mean.” He elbowed Keller in the ribs and winked. “I want the two of you to be the first to know that I’ve decided to ask the little lady to be my bride and move to the USSR with me.”
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