Southern Fried Blues (The Officers' Ex-Wives Club)

by Jamie Farrell

  “Squirrel!” Miss O flung her gun up so fast, Radish dove between Jackson’s legs. She aimed at the tree straight overhead. Her hair tilted all funny. Cletus clapped a hand to it. “That’s right,” she said to the sky, “you go on and run, you little furry rascal. If I had some bullets, you’d be going in my soup pot tonight.”

  “Ophelia, that’s not how hunters talk,” Mamie said. “They get all quiet-like and creep along until they’ve got a good shot.”

  “I had him in my sights.”

  “But squirrel’s got ears, you know.”

  Jackson squeezed Mamie’s shoulder. “We’ll find another one.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “And we’ll do it quiet-like. What we need to do now is find us a good tree all full of nuts to sit under.”

  Craig grinned and shook his head.

  Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was thinking.

  “Should’ve brought them biscuits Flo’s younger granddaughter baked,” Mamie murmured.

  “Now you hush,” Miss Ophelia whispered back. “She’s the prettier one.”

  “Shows in her baking, bless her heart.”

  “Don’t matter none,” Louisa said. “Jackson don’t like any of their biscuits.”

  Miss Ophelia gasped. Cletus patted her shoulder. “I like your biscuits,” he said.

  “Did he tell you that?” Mamie demanded of Louisa.

  “Didn’t see him eating any of them, did you?”

  All five of them turned to look at him. “Had a big breakfast,” he said.

  Mamie peered over her spectacles. “You getting a taste for something other than biscuits?”

  Danged if his ears weren’t getting all hot like when Anna Grace called him out on being more than a dumb old redneck the other night. “PFT coming up.”

  Her lips pursed. “You ain’t telling me you’re getting too old to run a couple miles and do a few push-ups and sit-ups, now, are you?”

  “He is getting a few gray hairs,” Louisa said.

  Jackson tucked her into a headlock. He pointed down the path. “Y’all want to hunt squirrels or not?”

  “We should get going,” Miss Ophelia said. “Flo and Dolly are setting out lunch over the pass. And Dolly’s bringing that girl from her church who fries chicken so nice.”

  “That means she’s got buckteeth and birthing hips,” Louisa said.

  “Bless her heart,” Mamie agreed on a sigh. She patted Jackson’s arm. “Don’t you worry none, sugarplum. Still lots of nice young ladies out there for you.”

  But nice young ladies got ideas. And there wasn’t one of them who could touch Anna Grace’s pies. Hunting season or not, that suited him fine. He had a feeling some milk would go good with her pie, and he was patient enough to wait for it.

  Chapter Twelve

  There were things she wanted to do and things she had to do, and she was stubborn enough to do it all alone.

  —The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels

  ANNA FLEXED HER fingers over Rex’s keyboard and stifled a yawn. She’d been up studying past midnight every night this week. But she’d finished her first certification this morning, and tonight was her last class night of the week. She could catch up on sleep this weekend.

  When she wasn’t studying.

  Still, she had reason to smile. She planned to stop at Jimmy Beans after class and drop Jackson a note about joining her.

  She wiped the yawn-induced tears from her eyes, then squinted at the documentation from the new supplier. It didn’t look right. Or maybe her brain had finally hit overload.

  Jules sauntered into her office. “Are you always this useless after a test? I’ve been emailing you all morning.”

  “You’re in the next cube.”

  Jules grabbed the ruler out of Anna’s desk organizer and tapped it on the desk. “Didn’t feel like yelling. You have that tech report done yet?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said. Maybe she’d locate a few extra brain cells by then.

  Jules slid the ruler over her fingers like a bow on a violin. “You busy tonight?”

  Anna hadn’t been out with Jules since karaoke. “Class. Maybe tomorrow?” She was supposed to hang out with Kaci while Lance was gone TDY, but she could cancel.

  Jules dropped the ruler into Anna’s in-basket. “No trivia at Taps tomorrow.”

  Anna moved the ruler back into place. “We could go somewhere else.”

  “Afraid of karaoke night?”

  Sensitive subject, meet land mine. “We can do whatever you guys want.”

  “Never mind. I get it. We’re not as cool as your post-divorce friends.” Jules stood. Her pantsuit hung limp and her cheeks seemed extra hollow.

  But How are you doing wasn’t a question Jules took kindly to. Anna ignored the barb. “Have you heard how Brad’s interview went this morning?”

  “He skipped it.” She leaned into the desk and plucked a pen out of the pen holder, then dropped it back in with a plink.

  “He did?” Anna eyed Jules, but her friend focused on the pen. Plink. Plink. Plink. “Did he say why?”

  Plink. Plink. “Apparently their corporate office in Virginia installed some fancy glass that birds can’t see. He found pictures on the Internet of all these dead birds on the sidewalk around the building, and he says he won’t work for bird killers.”

  “Oh.”

  “So trivia runs until nine or so if you get out of class early.”

  “I’ll cross my fingers.”

  But two hours later, when the email arrived announcing class was cancelled, Anna bit back a curse. If Jules hadn’t made a point of inviting her to trivia, Anna would’ve texted Jackson to see if he was up for something more than coffee. After three coffee dates in the last two weeks, it was obvious he was letting her call the shots.

  And she liked that.

  A lot.

  But aside from one awkward lunch shortly after Rodney died, Anna hadn’t seen Brad since the last karaoke night. And they’d been good friends before Neil left. So that evening, when she would’ve headed to class, she pulled into the Taps parking lot instead.

  Inside, she found Jules and Brad sitting with two of Brad’s old friends at a table littered with peanut shells in the middle of the loud, crowded bar. Jules was wearing a strained smile, and Brad was deep into a heated debate with the beefier of the two guys. Mitch, if Anna remembered right. And the guy with the receding hairline was Cookie. He probably had a real name, but Anna had never heard it. She snagged the chair next to Jules. “Hey.”

  Jules lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

  “Going to bed an hour ago was tempting.” Anna smiled at Cookie and nodded to Brad and Mitch. “You guys order yet? Or are more people coming?”

  Jules slid her a menu. “Just us. The waitress is slacking tonight. You’ve got time.”

  “Hope she’s not counting on a good tip,” Brad said.

  Jules shush-ed him. He rolled his eyes like Anna used to at her mother, then settled his attention on Anna. “How’s school? You smart yet?”

  “Getting there.”

  Brad grunted. He spun his silverware in circles. His knee bounced under the table. Jules snatched the silverware away. He glared at her, then turned back to Mitch. “Purdue’s new quarterback is a pussy. They’re fucking losing everything this year.”

  Their waitress, a bubbly college-aged girl, slid up to the table. “Hey, folks! Thanks for waiting. I’m—”

  “Slow.” Brad glared at her. His cheeks were puffier than they’d been the last time Anna saw him, and the buttons on his shirt strained. “We need another pitcher. And some wings. Might as well bring the check now if you want us to pay before tomorrow.”

  “God, Brad.” Jules pinched the bridge of her nose.

  Anna tried to smile at the waitress. “Can I have a small salad please?”

  Cookie and Mitch ordered. Jules waved off food, asking for a rum and Coke instead. Brad added fries and onion rings to his demands. The
waitress tucked her order pad into her apron and scurried away.

  Anna glanced at Jules.

  “Stop looking at me like that.” Jules snatched her glass and took a huge gulp. Ice cascaded down inside the glass. Water splashed over Jules’s jaw and down her red blouse. “Dammit!”

  Anna lunged for the extra napkins at the center of the table.

  “Jesus, Jules,” Brad sneered. “Wet much? God, can’t take you anywhere.”

  Jules’s face crumpled. Anna grabbed her arm and flashed a feral smile at the men. “Excuse us. We need to go to the ladies’ room.”

  “I don’t—” Jules started.

  Anna cut her off. “Yes, you do.” She tugged harder. Jules stood. She wobbled beside Anna through the tables of raucous patrons who were waiting for the start of trivia night.

  In the bathroom, Jules glared at Anna. “What the hell?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Anna pointed toward the door. “Jules. You’re hurting. He’s hurting. Worse, he’s turning into an ass. That’s not Brad. You two need help.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I don’t want you to end up like me.”

  “I’m not you.” Jules snatched a fistful of paper towels and shoved them across the wet spots on her chest. She swiped with a ferocity that matched the scowl on her face but was ruined by her wobbling chin and the splotchy cheeks. “Thank God. Are you done?”

  Anna swallowed hard. “No. I’m trying to be your friend.”

  Tears clung to Jules’s lashes. Fury emanated out of her body. “Go be all touchy-feely with someone else. You don’t know anything about this.”

  “I know you don’t cry.”

  “My eyes are leaking in sympathy over your ignorance of the realities of married life.”

  Anna sucked in a breath. “I also know you bite, but you’re usually not cruel.”

  The door swung open. A mother with her toddler walked in. Jules squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the intentional blankness was scarier than mean Jules. “Whatever. Just don’t make us lose trivia.” She thrust the paper towels in the trash and marched out the door.

  Anna let out a shuddery breath. She could leave. Corner the waitress, cancel her order, and go. But this wasn’t about her. It was about helping people who’d been her friends.

  What was she supposed to do when she didn’t know which was the better of two bad options?

  She unclenched her hands. Her nails had cut into her palms and her skin felt clammy. She washed her hands, dried them thoroughly, then headed back out to the table.

  By the time trivia ended at nine, Anna felt like an emotional punching bag, and her cheeks hurt from forcing smiles all night long. Their table came in second in trivia, first in biggest drunkard in the room, dead last in the race for an enjoyable evening.

  Anna didn’t wait around for the prize. She put cash on her receipt and pleaded homework. No one tried to stop her, and no one argued with her paying for herself.

  She drove home on autopilot, half wanting to call Kaci and ask advice, more wanting to test out her theory that Jackson had nice shoulders to cry on. But in the end, she tumbled into bed and had a fitful night of sleep.

  The next morning, she was tucking her phone into her purse on her way out the door for work when she realized she’d missed a text message the night before.

  The only thing prettier than this coffee would be your smile right over it.

  Anna winced. Her thumbs hovered over her phone.

  Sorry, just got this, she typed out quickly. Hope you didn’t wait long. I’ll make it up to you later.

  She hit send before she overthought it. Then she dropped her phone into its pocket in her purse, sprinkled food into Walker’s oversize brandy snifter, and headed for work.

  Because today had to get better.

  ANNA DIDN’T SEE Jules until lunchtime. And she was getting paranoid about their paths not crossing. Shortly before noon, though, Jules stepped blank-faced into Anna’s cube. “Samples are coming in from the new supplier this afternoon. Make sure you file them right. I’m working this weekend to make up for all these damn meetings.”

  “Sure.” Anna eased back. “You need help?”

  “Last I checked, I was qualified to run the tests myself.”

  Her face choked on a benign smile. “Sure are.”

  “Damn right.”

  Anna expected Jules to storm back out. Instead, she loitered in the cube entrance, but she kept her hands off Anna’s desk organizer. “So,” Anna ventured, “are we okay?”

  Jules’s blank mask didn’t waver. “Were we not okay?” She folded her arms. “You know, being a professional means not taking everything personally. If you have a problem with separating work and fun, then we shouldn’t fraternize after office hours.”

  “Last night wasn’t fun.”

  The wonky eyebrow made an appearance. “Sorry to hear that. Probably a good thing you’re always in class. How’s that going, by the way? Passing this time?”

  Anna bit the inside of her cheek. “Doing fine, thanks.” She rolled her chair closer to her desk. “Last month’s reports will be ready after one more spell check.”

  “Good plan.” Jules stalked out and didn’t look back.

  The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Jules left shortly after four. Anna shut the dinosaur down, grabbed her purse, and headed to Shirley’s office.

  Her program manager was still in, hammering at her laptop between gulps of her afternoon coffee in her World’s Best Mom mug. “Yes?”

  It was as much of an invitation as Anna expected. She sank into Shirley’s faux-leather sitting chair. “I’m worried about Jules.”

  Shirley finally swiveled away from her computer. “How so?”

  “I think she’s having some personal problems, but I don’t know what to do to help.”

  “Sometimes you can’t help.”

  “Somebody needs to.”

  Shirley’s hard-ass face dropped. Her skin sagged beneath her eyes, and she was overdue for a touch-up on her gray. She set her glasses aside. “Things get messy at work when you interfere with coworkers’ private lives.”

  “It’ll be messy here no matter what if they don’t get the help they need at home.” Stories about trivia tumbled out. Anna finally held her hands up. “Her family’s out West, his is in Texas. I don’t know if she has any other friends here besides us at work, and it’s not right for her and Brad to go through this alone.”

  Shirley’s lips were turned down so far they hit her jaw line. “Until it interferes with her work, there’s nothing I can do.”

  “You could have a heart.”

  Shirley’s frown went icy. “There are plenty of resources on base to help them deal with their problems. You want to help, go ask them what to do.”

  “She spends forty to fifty hours a week with us. She’d spend, what, thirty minutes with a base counselor, if they’d see her since Brad’s out now? I might not be married to the military anymore, but I know the culture. We are her family. You know it too. She. Needs. Help.”

  “And what exactly do you think we can do?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be in here asking for your expertise. What would your commander have done?”

  “Training,” Shirley sighed. “Fine. I’ll do a touchy-feely briefing at the monthly staff meeting next Thursday. Happy?”

  Shirley briefing Jules on touchy-feely would be like the devil’s briefing angels on how to use their wings. “Guest speakers are always a nice touch.”

  “You want one, you find one. Talk to HR. Are we done?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Anna stood. “Thank you.”

  “Get out of here,” Shirley said gruffly. “It’s the weekend.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The grace of a woman was evident in her arrival.

  —The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels

  NOTHING SAID SORRY I missed your call like a fresh-baked pie.<
br />
  Or so Anna hoped. Was a pie too much? She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Like that she was too attached. Gram had always said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but she wasn’t looking for his heart.

  She should put a note on the pie.

  And say what? I like you, can we be friends? Maybe with benefits?

  Right. She liked him, he liked her. She felt bad for missing coffee so she’d take him a pie. Because she wanted to.

  So Sunday afternoon, after she’d studied until her brain resembled molten roadkill, she baked a pie. She studied a few more brain cells out while it cooled, then packed it up.

  She thought about calling first, but she was afraid he’d tell her not to come, or worse, get gentlemanly and make her wonder if he was only being polite about inviting her over.

  Or if he was just in it for the pie. Not that she’d completely mind, since his kisses had progressed to where she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone her ex’s, but she hoped he liked her for something other than her pie.

  When she pulled up in front of his house, the garage door was down. No one answered her knock. No barking either.

  Anna had triple-wrapped the pie, so the local critters probably wouldn’t bother it if she left it on his porch.

  Probably.

  He did have a screened-in porch in back. And he was fairly laid back. He wouldn’t mind if she left a note telling him it was there, and he’d probably appreciate the pie so much, he wouldn’t care if she broke all the way into his house to leave it.

  Not that she’d go that far. But leaving it on his back porch was reasonable. She rang the doorbell and knocked once more for good measure. Definitely no one home.

  She scanned the street. Despite the finally bearable temperatures, no one was out and about. She went off the porch and across the driveway. She’d leave the pie, then go back to her purse for a pen and paper to write the note.

  A wooden privacy fence surrounded Jackson’s backyard. She crunched over the dying grass and had to step around an ant hill. She shuddered. He’d definitely appreciate her leaving this on his back porch. She was two steps from the gate when she spotted an armadillo that wasn’t Enrique at the corner of the fence.