“Charmin,” Jay-Li said in a syrupy tone. “Let me explain. I love him; he loves me. He spray-painted my name on an overpass in Hollywood. Now, if that isn’t devotion—”
“The name’s Chiffon!” Chiffon snapped. “And you have some questions to answer. Did Lonnie get a tattoo with your name? Are you carrying his love child?”
“Yes, Lonnie commemorated our love with a tattoo. And no, I’m not carrying his love child.” Jay-Li sensuously ran a hand over her concave belly. “But not for a lack of trying.”
“You wench!” Chiffon lunged toward Jay-Li, but Chenille yanked her back.
“Calm down!” Chenille said to her sister, who struggled to be released from her grip. “Attacking Jay-Li serves no purpose.”
“Did you hear what she said?” Chiffon said.
Tork stepped between Chiffon and Jay-Li. “Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to stay at least three feet from Ms. Lauren,” he said.
“She’ll be fine,” Chenille said, leading her enraged sister to an armchair. “Just sit here for a minute and regain your composure. I’ll talk to Jay-Li.”
Tork loomed over Chiffon like a tank, so she had no choice but to remain seated.
“Jay-Li,” Chenille began. “I know that some people consider Lonnie to be something of a looker—”
“He’s stunning,” Jay-Li purred.
“But you have your pick of gorgeous men. Why would you want Chiffon’s husband? You can’t possibly have much in common.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, so Chiffon couldn’t hear. “After all, you can dress Lonnie up in the finest cashmere and leather, but underneath it all, his neck will always be red.”
“That’s precisely why I find him sexy,” Jay-Li said. “He’s a real man, not some sort of plastic Hollywood substitute. I’m tired of vegan men who have weekly facials at Elizabeth Arden. I want a man who likes his steak rare and bloody; who has strong, callused hands; who—”
“Always leaves the toilet seat up,” Chiffon said with a smirk.
“Who makes me feel like a woman,” Jay-Li said with a sultry pout. “Lonnie taps into my wild feminine side like no other man before him. He’s my soul mate.”
“But he’s also Chiffon’s husband,” Chenille pointed out. “It’s wrong to be a home-wrecker.”
“The marriage was broken long before I entered the picture,” Jay-Li said dismissively. “Lonnie tells me that he hasn’t made love to Charmin since the conception of his youngest child.”
“That’s a lie!” Chiffon sprang up from her chair, and Tork glared at her until she sat back down. “We made love three times the night before he left for California,” she whimpered.
“You poor, deluded soul,” Jay-Li said with a flick of her silky auburn hair. “Lonnie hasn’t been attracted to you in a very long time. If he’s made love to you in the last year, it was only out of a sense of duty.”
“I won’t listen to this,” Chiffon said. She screwed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry.
“What about his children?” Chenille said. “Lonnie still has a responsibility to them.”
“That’s one of the reasons you’re getting such a large check,” Ariel said, looking up from her Palm Pilot. “Child support is included in the amount.”
“There’s more to being a father than money,” Chenille said.
“On occasion, we’ll fly the children out to L.A. in my private jet,” Jay-Li said, rising from her chair. “I’ll rent Disneyland for the day.”
“You stay away from my children,” Chiffon growled.
“I’ve no interest in your brood,” Jay-Li said coolly. “Lonnie and I plan on adopting our own Asian baby soon after we marry.”
“A Chinese baby?” Chenille asked.
“That’s last season’s nationality,” Jay-Li said. “We’ll be adopting a Cambodian child.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Jay-Li,” Chenille said sadly. “Where is that heroic woman who single-handedly saved an entire town from mercury poisoning in The Winsome Whistle-Blower?”
“That was the movies,” Jay-Li said, picking up her fringed bag. “This is real life. And in real life, whatever Jay-Li wants—”
“Jay-Li gets,” said Tork, Sake, and Ariel in unison.
“Exactly,” Jay-Li said. She flashed her big-screen smile. “I’ll be sending over divorce papers via messenger. Sign them, and you’ll get the check.” Her smile turned hard. “Don’t sign them, and I just might have to get nasty.”
Nineteen
Are you following Jesus this closely?
~ Bumper sticker on Reverend Hozey’s Chevy Lumina
“I want go to Garnell’s house and see Buddy and Beau today,” Dewitt said, tugging on his aunt’s hand. “Peeeze.”
“I don’t know.” Chenille glanced uneasily at her sister, who was camped out on the couch in a nest of balled-up Kleenexes and junk-food containers. “I’m a little concerned about your mother.”
“You promised,” Dewitt pleaded.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Chiffon said, waving her sister off. She’d just polished off the last Great Berry Reef Pop-Tart and kicked the empty box to the floor.
“Did you know Pop-Tarts are loaded with trans-fatty acids?” Chenille asked.
“And your point is?” Chiffon said. She flicked crumbs off her chin onto her bathrobe.
“I’m worried about you. You haven’t moved from that spot for two days.”
“I’m fine,” Chiffon said, and turned her attention back to a rerun of Green Acres.
Chenille glanced out the window. “It’s awfully bright outside. Dewitt, go get Walter’s leash and his Doggles. They’re both on a stool by the back door.”
“Doggles?” Chiffon looked up from the TV screen.
“Doggles are goggles for dogs. Walter is sensitive to UV rays.”
“Ha!” Chiffon guffawed. “You’re putting sunglasses on a dog and you’re worried about me?”
Chenille ignored her sister and scooped up the car keys from the coffee table. Dewitt returned with a bespectacled Walter trotting behind him.
“This is the episode where Oliver uses Lisa’s hotcake batter to make a head gasket,” Chiffon said with a snicker. She propped her bare feet on the armrest.
“Can I get you anything while I’m out?” Chenille asked.
“How about a jumbo package of fried cherry pies?”
“Chiffon,” Chenille began. Before she could continue, the phone rang.
The voice coming over the answering machine was Drake’s. “Hello, Chenille, this is your veterinarian. I was calling to check on Walter.”
“Not him again,” Chiffon remarked.
Chenille pounced on the phone. “Hello, Drake,” she trilled.
“There you are. I wanted to make sure our patient was still in good stead.”
She looked down at Walter, who was batting at his Doggles with his paws. “Walter’s in excellent health, Doctor. How nice of you to inquire. Are you so attentive to all of your patients?”
“Only when their owners are as captivating as you are.”
“Oh, Drake. You’re embarrassing me.”
Chiffon pantomimed sticking a finger down her throat. Chenille turned her back on her.
“I can’t wait until our rendezvous this Saturday night,” Drake said.
“Nor can I,” Chenille said, sighing.
“Until this weekend, my lovely one.”
Chenille gently replaced the receiver and pressed the palm of her hand to her chest. “I just might faint.”
“Would you cut the corn? I’m trying to eat here,” Chiffon said as she grazed on a fistful of Scooby-Doo cereal.
“Mommy, that’s my cereal,” Dewitt said with a pout. “You’re eating everything in the house.”
“Not everything.” Chiffon pursued a marshmallow that had fallen between the cushions. “I haven’t touched a single celery stick.”
“Dewitt, why don’t you get Walter strapped in his booster seat?” Chenille said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
After Dewitt left, Chenille stood in front of her sister. “Look at you. Your hair’s a fright, your skin’s broken out from all that junk food, and you haven’t taken a shower for two days. What’s happening to you?”
“Janie-Lynn Lauren happened to me,” Chiffon said through a mouthful of cereal.
Chenille knelt beside the couch. “I suppose you think you’re entitled to stew in your own juices, but it’s just hard for me to reconcile this Chiffon with the one I used to know.”
Chiffon scratched her stomach beneath her nightgown. “Which Chiffon was that?”
“The one who used to have the world by a string. The one who carried herself like a beauty queen.”
“Anyone with a pretty face can collect tiaras and scepters.”
“Not so,” Chenille said. “You had more than just beauty. You possessed a charisma that made you stand out from every other girl. It was true star quality.”
“Me? With star quality?” She fingered a strand of her lank locks. “That’ll be the day.”
“Yes, you. And if you had it once, you still have it. Maybe it just got buried underneath the weight of marriage and children. But you can retrieve it.”
A car horn bleated from outside the door. “Your son’s summoning me,” Chenille said. “I’d better go.” She kissed her sister on the cheek. “Love you,” she said.
Chiffon turned toward her sister with a stunned look on her face. “Love you, too.”
With a deft turn of a spatula, Garnell flipped the hash-brown concoction sizzling in the skillet. Walter lay by his feet, watching with worshipful eyes.
“I don’t know why these things are called creek banks,” Garnell said, adjusting the height of the flame on the stove. “But that’s what my daddy called them, and that’s what his daddy called them.”
He winked at Dewitt, who was seated at a battered oak table in the kitchen, chugging a glass of chocolate milk. “All I know is they’ll put hair on your chest.”
“I want lots of hair! Like Wolverine,” Dewitt said as he swiped at his milk mustache with his sleeve.
“Can Walter have a smidgen of ham?” Garnell asked.
Chenille shook her head. “Walter is a vegetarian, but thank you. It was gracious of you to have invited us to dinner, Mr. Walker. I hope we haven’t taken advantage of your hospitality.”
“Shoot, I love me a little supper company,” he said over his shoulder. “You two are doing me a favor. And please, call me Garnell.”
Garnell had refused to take no for an answer when he’d asked them to stay for dinner. Dewitt had played for over an hour with the Labs in the front yard while Chenille and Garnell watched from two Adirondack chairs on his wraparound porch. The man clearly loved animals. In addition to the dogs, he had two cats, a potbellied pig, three ferrets, and a skunk.
“Don’t worry about PU,” he said when the skunk ventured on the porch to use the litter box. “He’s been descented.”
Their chat had been pleasant enough. Garnell mainly talked about his woodworking hobby. He’d made the chairs on the porch, as well as most of the furniture in his house. As they conversed, he’d whittled a whistle for Dewitt out of a sapling. Then, as soon as Chenille made a motion to leave, he launched his fervent campaign to get them to stay for dinner. Her protests were useless, particularly after he mentioned there’d be black-bottom pie for dessert and Dewitt crawled up her legs pleading, “Peeeze, Auntie Chenille, peeeze.”
So there she was, listening to Johnny Cash sing “Ring of Fire” on a transistor radio and waiting to eat greasy bachelor fare. On the bright side, Dewitt was having a grand time. She supposed it was healthy for him to be exposed to a positive role model like Garnell.
While Garnell cooked, Chenille drifted around the den situated just off the kitchen. She spied a bookshelf against the wall, expecting to find a set of Foxfire books or a collection of woodworking volumes. She withdrew the nearest book on the shelf and examined it.
“Balzac?” she said with a start. As she flipped through the pages, she saw the book was in the original French. She continued to scan the spines: Euripides, Aristotle, Virgil, Voltaire, and Descartes.
“Mr. Walker—I mean, Garnell. Whose books are these on the shelves?” Chenille asked.
“They’re mine,” Garnell said, transferring the steaming creek banks to a serving platter.
“But why do you have them?”
“To read, naturally. What else are books good for?” he said with a grin. “Well, on second thought, I did once use the Aristophanes to put under the leg of a wobbly table, but other than that—”
“But some of these books aren’t even translated.”
“I know. I dabble some in foreign languages. ‘Course, don’t ask me to parlez français. These country-boy lips don’t wrap around French syllables too good. I’m much better at reading it.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“I don’t suppose I come across as a scholar. Probably ’cause I’m self-taught. Never did go to college, even though Miss Beezle at the high school kept after me about it.”
“Miss Beezle?” Chenille said in surprise. “She was my teacher! You must have been in the accelerated program at Cayboo Creek High School.”
“I don’t know what they called it back then, but, yeah, I took all my main subjects from Miss Beezle until eleventh grade, when I quit. My daddy got sick, and I had to get a job.”
“Miss Beezle was my mentor. I have such an admiration for her! She must be in her eighties by now. I wonder what’s happened to her?”
“She’s still at the high school, teaching the smart kids. Matter of fact, she comes to visit me now and again. She’s making noises about retiring. I could invite the two of you over for a visit sometime.”
“I’d love to see her.”
“Then it’s a date,” Garnell said. He plunked three mismatched plates down on the table. “Time to eat. Y’all come and get it.”
Chenille opened her mouth to say that a visit with Miss Beezle at his house really didn’t qualify as a date, but she thought better of it. There was no sense in hurting his feelings. She’d just have to make certain he didn’t get the wrong idea about her. Although he was a decent and obviously bright fellow, he wasn’t the man for her. Only Drake could make her heart do somersaults.
When Dewitt and Chenille returned home from Garnell’s house, Emily was sitting on the La-Z-Boy in the living room, watching Nick at Nite. Chiffon had finally vacated her spot on the couch.
“Where’s your mother?” Chenille asked.
“In the bedroom,” Emily said, hopping up from the couch. “Mama, Chenille is back!”
Chenille started toward the bedroom, but Emily blocked her path. “Don’t go in there. She wants to make an entrance.”
Emily made a megaphone with her hands and shouted, “Are you ready, Mama?”
“I’m ready, baby!” came Chiffon’s answer from the back of the house.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Emily announced. “May I please present a woman with star quality, charisma, and a queenly bearing. The one, the only, Chiffon Amber Butrell!”
Chiffon strode regally down the threadbare hall carpet. Her blond ringlets were piled high up on her head, and winking atop her hairdo was a rhinestone tiara. She wore a long black velvet skirt and a rose blouse that complemented her creamy complexion.
“Good evening,” Chiffon said, flashing a toothy smile. “I was born under the sign of Scorpio. My favorite color is mauve, I’m an animal lover, and every day I pray for world peace.”
“Ya
y!” Emily cheered.
Dewitt let loose a wolf whistle (learned at the knee of his daddy, no doubt) and Chenille started clapping.
“You’re beautiful,” Chenille gushed. “How elegant you look.”
“Thank you. Although I do feel kind of funny.” She showed Chenille a shiny red bra strap. “See, it’s still just me underneath.”
“I’m speechless,” Chenille said.
Chiffon caught her sister’s hand and sat beside her. “I want you to know I really appreciate all the nice things you said to me. Made me remember a time in my life when I was confident. I could walk the runway of any pageant and know I’d be taking home that crown. When I put this old tiara on my head, that cock-of-the-walk feeling came rushing back to me. I can do it, Chenille. I’ll get through this thing with Janie-Lynn without falling apart.”
“Of course you will,” Chenille said.
Chiffon kissed Dewitt and Emily on the top of their heads. “Y’all two need to get into your jams,” she said. “Go on, scoot.”
After the children left, Chiffon picked up a manila envelope from the top of the television and tossed it to her sister. “This came by overnight mail.”
Chenille peeked inside. “Divorce papers?”
“That’s right,” Chiffon said with a nod.
“What are you going to do?”
“Send them right back where they came from.” She took the envelope and fastened it. “Movie star or no movie star, queens don’t hand their man over to another woman without a fight.”
“Are you sure he’s worth the trouble?”
Chiffon shrugged. “Maybe not. But Janie-Lynn Lauren isn’t getting the better of me.”
Twenty
When Everything’s Going your Way, You’re in the Wrong Lane.
~ Message in a fortune cookie at Dun Woo’s House of Noodles
A Dollar Short (The Bottom Dollar Series Book 2) Page 14