A Dollar Short (The Bottom Dollar Series Book 2)

by Karin Gillespie

  “Jay-Li’s a wildcat, all right,” he said, staring up at a pale gray water stain on the ceiling. “I should’ve never told her about Skeet, but she wheedled it out of me when I was tipsy on champagne. When I saw that TV interview where she badmouthed you, I said, ‘Enough is enough, I’m going home.’ Then she started bawling and making threats until I promised her I’d stay, but the whole time I was plotting to come home.”

  “Plotting? Why didn’t you just get on a plane?”

  He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. “Cash. I didn’t have the green. Finally her manicurist, Sake, gave me the money after I’d granted her a favor or two.” He hung his head. “Made me feel kind of cheap. But I did it for you, Tweety. So I could be back home with you and the kids again.”

  She dismissed the Sake confession. A hasty rendezvous with a manicurist seemed trivial compared to a full-blown affair with a movie star. Covering her face with her hands, she said, “I thought it was over between us. I thought you loved her.”

  “Hey, now,” he said, nuzzling up to her cheek. “That’s what she wanted you to believe. That chick is squirrelly. But Love Bear is in your arms again. He might stray a time or two, but he always comes back to the lair. I thought you knew that.”

  She tingled with pleasure and relief at his words, yet knowing at the same time she was falling back into an unhealthy abyss with him. How could something feel so wrong and so right at the very same time?

  Since then they’d hunkered down in the house, ignoring phone calls and visitors. When the children were around, they often disappeared into the bedroom for “naps.” When the kids were gone at school and day care, she and Lonnie scarcely got up from the waterbed.

  She’d tried to forget the look of shock she’d seen on Chenille’s face when she’d strolled into the baggage area with Lonnie at her side. There’d been little discussion on the way home from the airport in Garnell’s van. When Lonnie went inside the house with his suitcase, Chenille hissed, “You’re letting him stay?”

  Chiffon shrugged, and Chenille stared at her as if she were a stranger. Then she packed up her stuff and drove away in her car, and Chiffon hadn’t seen or talked to her since.

  But what could she say? I’m a fool and I know it, but sorry, I don’t have what it takes to kick Lonnie to the curb. Part of her defended her decision to stay with her husband because of the three children they shared. But in her heart, she knew she was making excuses. Truth was, she was as powerless around Lonnie as a wino with a bottle of Wild Irish Rose.

  She’d have to face Chenille soon, as well as all of her friends. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life burrowed under the covers with Lonnie. But right now she was just too ashamed.

  Chiffon glanced at the clock again. She had to get up immediately if she wanted to have Gabby home and get to the grocery store before the other kids got off the school bus. Bounding off the mattress, she sorted through the pile of clothes on the floor for her blue jeans.

  “Tomorrow’s our last day to lay out, babe,” Lonnie said, watching her dress as he reclined against the pillows. “I’m back on first shift at the plant on Friday. Gotta get some overtime so I can buy our stuff back.”

  Your stuff, she thought as she hooked her bra.

  “What about you?” he asked. “When are you going back to your waitress job?”

  “I’m not going back. Remember? I told you I was going to be photographer for The Crier.” If Birdie hasn’t already given up on me.

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot.” He propped up on his elbows. “Is that such a good idea, babe? If you’re being paid a straight salary, you’re not going to make as much money at the newspaper as you did as a waitress.”

  “Maybe not right away. But I’ll do some freelance photography on the side. Maybe I can have my own business one day.”

  Lonnie had gotten out of bed and was pulling his Levi’s up over his slim hips. “Sounds mighty iffy to me. I don’t how we’re going to make it around here without your tips.”

  He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest. His lips plowed through a tangle of her hair to reach her ear. “Maybe you oughta call around some. See if you can’t scare yourself up a waitress job.”

  Her body betrayed her mind as she found her arm snaking around his back to pull him closer. No. Things had to be different between them this time. She dropped her arm and willed herself to face him. “I don’t want to wait tables anymore.”

  Her tone of voice was all wrong. She sounded like a child reluctant to brush her teeth. He took her hand and passed it lightly over his cheekbone. “I know. I’m not looking forward to busting my chops over at the NutraSweet plant, either. It’s not a fair world.”

  “But Lonnie—”

  He placed a finger over her lips. “It won’t be forever. Just until we get things back to normal. After all, you’re the one who sold our stuff.” He lifted her chin and searched her face. “Okay, Tweety Bird?”

  “‘Kay,” she said, swallowing. An acrid taste rose in the back of her throat, but she choked it back. As she turned to go, Lonnie patted her bottom.

  “Attagirl.”

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” she said in a hoarse voice.

  Tears blurred her vision as she drove down Chickasaw Drive to Gabby’s day care. She’d been a complete weakling. Why hadn’t she stood up to him?

  Because he wouldn’t like it. Because you’d lose him, only this time for good.

  Although Lonnie claimed to admire her so-called feistiness when it was directed at a sloppy repairman or a short-changing pizza delivery person, he wanted her to be as meek as a geisha girl when dealing with him. He’d always been the one in charge of their relationship, and regarded any contrary behavior on her part as mannish or unattractive.

  Maybe that was the reason why he and Janie-Lynn Lauren had parted ways. Not because the movie star had “badmouthed” Chiffon on TV, but because she’d been too bossy with Lonnie. Despite prancing around in pink and looking about as fierce as a Himalayan kitten, Janie-Lynn was a serious businesswoman who’d lent her name to three perfumes and a clothing line. She was used to calling the shots, and probably had discovered too late that it was Lonnie’s way or the highway.

  After Chiffon picked up Gabby from day care, she went to the Winn-Dixie and listlessly maneuvered her cart around the aisles. She hefted a ten-pound bag of charcoal into the buggy. Lonnie liked her to cook most meals on the grill even in cool weather. She stocked up on all the goodies he was fond of: peach Nehi, Cool Ranch Doritos, a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon, mint ice cream, and a package of black licorice. By the time she was done getting his favorite things, as well as the children’s, she didn’t have any money left over for what she liked.

  With a flash of insight, she realized the buggy was a microcosm of her marriage to Lonnie. No room for her desires, plans, or hopes. Not even enough space for a package of gummy bears.

  What was she going to do? The unfairness built into their relationship had never bothered her before, but now it throbbed like a rotten tooth.

  There was a side of her that wanted Lonnie so badly it made her bones ache, but another side burned to reclaim the freedom she’d gained while he’d been gone. She longed to talk with her sister, but she didn’t even know where Chenille was. She’d missed her terribly over the past couple of days.

  After grocery shopping, Chiffon pulled up in the driveway and was disappointed to see Ferrell Haines’s pickup truck in the yard. Ferrell and Lonnie were longtime hunting and drinking buddies, so there was no telling what they were up to. She parked her car around the side of the house to unload the groceries. Holding Gabby in one arm and a grocery bag in the other, Chiffon shouldered her way through the back door into the kitchen. She dumped her purchases on the counter and was about to go outside for another load when she heard a familiar clicking sound coming from t
he living room.

  No, it can’t be. She cocked her head and listened. Christ on a crutch, it is.

  After putting Gabby in her walker, she tore into the living room and saw Lonnie and Ferrell standing beside a brand-new pool table.

  Lonnie was screwing his cue into a square of chalk, while Ferrell leaned over the side of the table, taking aim at a five ball.

  “Baby, you’re home. What d’ya think?” Lonnie said with a grin as wide as a gator’s.

  “Where...? How did...?” Chiffon stammered.

  “It’s a surprise. I had it delivered while you was gone,” Lonnie said. “Look. Red felt instead of green. Your favorite color. And it’s got a genuine cherry finish, none of that cheap vinyl coating like the last one.”

  “Hey there, Chiffon,” Ferrell said, his wide brow shiny from lumbering around the table. “You sure do have a devoted husband, buying you a fancy pool table like this.”

  “Where did you get the money? I thought you were broke,” Chiffon said, her hands shaking.

  “There was plenty of money in the account, babe,” Lonnie said, setting up his shot. “Heck, I even had enough left over for two top-of-the-line cues.”

  “The Predator,” Ferrell said, running a beefy hand along the length of the cue. “The Tuff Luck Tavern don’t have cues half this nice.”

  “Only the best for my wife,” Lonnie said with a wink.

  “Lonnie, that was my money,” Chiffon said, her voice cracking. “I was going to buy some photography equipment.”

  “Your money?” Lonnie said with a chuckle and a sidelong glance at Ferrell. “Where’d you get the cash, sugar? By flying into a snit and selling all of my stuff?” He squashed his empty beer can. “Babe, will you get me and Ferrell a couple of cold ones?”

  Chiffon stared at her husband, cheeks on fire. “I flew into a ‘snit,’ as you say, because I didn’t have a dime to my name and you were off in California boffing that bim—”

  “Whoa there, girl,” Lonnie said. “Ferrell, you mind fetching us some beer? Get one for Chiffon, too. I think she could use a little cooling off. Take your time, now.”

  Ferrell nodded in understanding and ambled into the kitchen.

  Lonnie put a hand on her arm and spoke in a low voice. “Enough of this. I’m not going to rag on you for selling all of my stuff, and you’re not going to talk about Jay-Li anymore.” He pulled his wallet out and handed her a couple of twenties. “Here. Why don’t you scoot over to Augusta and get you one of those outfits you like at the Kmart?” He kissed her on the top of her head. “Ferrell’s here, so make nice.”

  As if in a trance, Chiffon took the money and stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans. She walked on wooden legs into the bedroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror above the bureau. She wore the blank expression of a Stepford wife.

  Something had to be done and it had to be done now, before she lost herself completely to Lonnie.

  She just needed some courage, ASAP. Too bad they didn’t package the stuff and sell it in bottles like soda pop. She’d need a six-pack to get up the nerve to exorcise Lonnie from her life.

  Drumming her nails on the dresser, she remembered her tiara, stored in a shoe box on the top shelf of the closet. Had it really held some kind of magic that night she’d worn it for Chenille, or had she just imagined it?

  Chiffon stood on tiptoe and reached for the box. Opening it, she spotted not only the tiara but also the satin sash she’d worn when she was crowned Miss Catfish Stomp.

  Couldn’t hurt to wear that, too, she thought as she slipped the sash over her chest. She picked up the tiara and placed it on top of her head. Almost instantly her neck elongated like a swan’s and her shoulders pulled back, lending her a queenly carriage.

  She raised her hand and tilted her chin upward. “Begone, peasant,” she whispered into the mirror.

  Leaving the bedroom, she regally glided into the living room. Neither of the men noticed her. Ferrell was absorbed in peeling the label from his beer bottle, and Lonnie was leaning over the pool table with a cue in hand.

  From where she stood, Chiffon had an excellent view of her husband’s backside, and what a fine round package it was, encased ever so fetchingly in a pair of faded jeans.

  If you go through with this, you’ll never see Lonnie’s sweet little behind again.

  Her hand touched her tiara, and strength surged through her. If you back down now, you’ll always be a prisoner to his whims.

  Ferrell looked up and noticed her. “Hey there, Chiffon. That’s a sparkly little thing you’re wearing on your head.”

  Lonnie turned around and grinned in that heartbreaking way of his. “Hello, princess. What are you doing? Playing dress-up?”

  Chiffon felt the familiar blast of heat on her cheeks as he smiled at her. Over ten years of marriage and he could still turn her knees into noodles.

  But was his sexy smile worth the damage he’d taken out on her heart and soul every single day of their marriage?

  “No,” Chiffon said in a near whisper.

  “What’s that?” Lonnie said.

  “No,” she said, this time in a much louder voice.

  “No, what?” he asked, scratching his head in bewilderment.

  “No to waiting tables. No to this pool table. No to Jay-Li, Jonelle, and all the other women you’ve strayed with, and most of all, no to you! Pack your bags. I want you out of here today.”

  “Are you crazy?” he asked.

  Chiffon stood there, breathing heavily. Instead of feeling weighed down by loss, she was as light as a hot-air balloon.

  “I’m not crazy,” she said, drunk with the momentum of the moment. “This is the sanest I’ve felt since I met you.” She swiped a bottle of beer from Ferrell’s grip, took a swig, and wiped her mouth. She glanced at Lonnie, who stood there looking like he’d been hit in the face with a bag of nickels.

  “Go on, now. You don’t want me to have to get out the Super Soaker, do you?”

  Much to Chiffon’s surprise, Lonnie didn’t blow up or get defensive. Instead, his bottom lip shook, his face turned purplish-red, and he started blubbering like a baby.

  “Don’t make me leave, Chiffon,” he sobbed. “I love you.”

  Chiffon stared at his mottled, snotty face. She’d never seen him cry before, and Lord, was he ugly! His quivering mug looked like it had been tapped for turpentine.

  Ferrell, embarrassed by his bawling buddy, slunk out the front door.

  “Here,” Chiffon said, shoving a box of Kleenex into Lonnie’s chest. “Blow your nose. Don’t know why you’re crying. This is what you get when you treat a woman the way you’ve treated me.”

  “You’ve never complained before,” Lonnie said timidly through his tears.

  “I’ve never had the courage,” she retorted. “I always thought I’d lose you if I stood up for myself. Now I could care less.”

  “You can’t mean that, Chiffon,” Lonnie said. “You and me belong together.”

  Chiffon touched the tiara to make certain it was still on her head.

  “Not anymore.”

  Thirty-Four

  Life would be easier if everyone read the manual.

  ~ Sign outside the Senior Center

  Walter bounded across Garnell’s yard, looking like an exuberant puppy. The breeze sifted through his wheat-colored fur as he propelled his short forelegs through the dewy grass.

  “Born free,” Chenille sang, blinking back tears. “As free as the wind blows.”

  “He does look happy,” Garnell said. “I think the country suits him.”

  The pair swung in a glider on the porch. Chenille had her head pressed against Garnell’s chest, and his hand dangled in her lap.

  “He can’t possibly be as happy as I am,” Chenille said, brus
hing her lips against Garnell’s cheek.

  Walter trotted up the steps of the porch with something clamped between his teeth.

  “What do you have, sweetie? Is that your Boo Bear?” Chenille asked.

  A small gray object tumbled out of the dog’s mouth. She squealed and jumped off the glider. “Oh my God, he’s eaten a rat!”

  Garnell examined the limp form of the animal Walter had deposited at their feet. “Looks more like a baby field mouse to me.”

  “This is dreadful.” Chenille circled the porch in a tizzy. “He needs to see a vet. Mice carry all kinds of diseases!”

  “Simmer down, sugar,” Garnell said, putting a calming hand on her shoulder. “Walter’s a Norwich terrier. They’re bred to hunt vermin.”

  She stopped short. “My baby? Hardwired to hunt rats and mice? He’s never done anything like this before.”

  “Maybe he feels more like himself running around out here. Maybe he’s getting in touch with his inner canine.”

  Chenille looked at Walter, his tight black lips upturned in what looked like a grin.

  “I guess he’s okay,” she said, reaching down to muss the far on top of his head. “But no more kissy-kissy from Mama, now that I know where your mouth’s been.”

  “How about me? Do I get a kiss?” Garnell asked.

  “Haven’t you had enough already?” Chenille said coquettishly.

  “Nope,” he said, his eyes crinkling in the corners. As she planted her lips on Garnell’s, it was impossible to imagine a time when she didn’t find him irresistible. He made Drake seem as sexy as a cold brisket of corned beef.

  “I went by and observed Miss Beezle’s classroom yesterday,” Chenille said after they had kissed. “I’m going to enjoy teaching the gifted classes. I worked with some of the students, and there was a definite connection.”

  “I’m just glad that you’re staying here in Cayboo Creek instead of going back to Bible Grove,” Garnell said.