“What? Funbags?” Mrs. C asked.
“No.” Mariah rolled her eyes. “Dykes.”
“Oh,” Edith said. “We forgot that one. I’m quite fond of dyke. You can use that whenever you want to.”
“Good to know.” Mariah nodded.
“Enough of that,” Boo chastised the women. “We are here for Kim and I think she could use a little of our expertise.”
“Did you like your hair color in the picture?” Mariah asked Kim. I felt a bit nauseous. I knew where this was headed.
Kim examined the photo. “Yes, I loved it.”
“No prob. Where in the fuck is a drugstore?” Mariah asked.
“There’s one down the street from Rose and Popo’s,” Boo remembered. “Do you have money?”
Mariah pulled a man’s wallet out of her back pocket and checked it. “Yep, there’s a ton in here.”
Boo gave her an odd look, but quickly nodded her head. “Fine, get some tinfoil, makeup, and nail polish too.”
“I’m on it.” She turned to leave and froze. “Do you dykes want to come? I was thinking we could make a quick stop at Rose and Popo’s for some man-jewel smashing.”
The old ladies jumped up so fast my head spun. Right as they were almost out the door, Kim, Boo, and I yelled “NO!”
“Why not?” Edith pouted. “I was so primed to stomp some testies.”
“That’s exactly why,” Boo snapped. “We do not have the time to bail your sorry butts out of jail tonight. And Mariah Carey, if I find out you kicked even one ball sac up into someone’s chest cavity, I will be really mad.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll be back in a half hour.”
The old ladies sulked while Boo and I made Kim wash all the green and black paint off her face. Boo washed Kim’s hair in the sink and then we waited . . . I was really scared. I mean, Mariah’s hair was green, for God’s sake. What in the hell was she going to do with Kim’s? The word strawberry in Mariah’s description had me thinking the next time Hugh saw his wife, she’d be sporting pink hair. I took a deep breath and decided to take the wait-and-see approach. We could always redye Kim’s hair if we needed to . . . Help me, Jesus.
Chapter 27
The bathroom door was open, but they wouldn’t let us see what they were doing. My nerves were doing a tango in my stomach. What was Kim going to look like when she came out? I’m sure Boo wouldn’t let Mariah do anything heinous to her, but Boo might think Mariah’s green locks were awesome. Shitclowns.
“You want a shot?” Edith offered, holding up the big ole bottle of vodka. I was more of a beer girl, but having something to take the edge off sounded like a fine idea.
“Yes, did you bring . . . ?” Before I could finish my question, she pulled six shot glasses out of her sewing bag. I wondered if they had been living with the merkin . . . “All righty then.”
She handed me the shot and straddled one of the folding chairs she’d been so kind to provide. I looked around my room. I didn’t have any folding chairs . . . Oh, good God, did they pack folding chairs? They certainly had big enough suitcases to have done it. I wondered what the hell else they had brought.
“You want to play?” Mrs. C asked, shuffling the deck with the skill of a Vegas cardshark.
“Do you cheat?” I winced as I downed my shot. Assmonkeys, that burned. I was rudely reminded why I preferred beer.
“Yep, do you?”
I threw back another shot and felt much warmer and happier all of a sudden. “Tonight I do. Deal ’em up, lesbo.”
“You got it, hooters,” Edith laughed.
I got my ass kicked. I realized that I sucked at cheating and they didn’t. I watched Edith pull two aces from under the desk and was amazed I’d never seen her put them under there to start with. They’d probably be good magician assistants for Rich . . . I giggled at the thought of them in skimpy little magician sidekick outfits.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at, Buppies. You owe me fifty dollars,” Mrs. C said.
“Oh, horseshit,” I laughed and downed another shot. “You cheated so bad. I tell you what, when we get back to Minneapolis, I’ll pay you with Monopoly money.”
“Or you could let us actually run and manage the shop,” Edith mumbled.
I paused for a long time and let what she had just said sink into my brain. If they were almost anyone else in the whole world, it would be a much simpler decision. I blew out a long breath. “Oh, Edith, Edith, Edith. How in God’s name do you think that would work out? . . . For real.” I stared at her. She couldn’t hold my gaze and looked down in shame.
Fucktard. My brain was telling me one thing and my instincts were telling me something else altogether. Clearly the three shots had muddled my thinking.
“Oooookay,” I said slowly, giving myself ample time to back out of what I was about to do. “One round of twenty-one. No cheating. If you win, you can run the shop for one month . . . on your own. If you terrorize the customers or run my grandma’s business into the ground, you’re gone . . . Deal?”
“And if you win?” Edith asked.
“Hmmm.” I pulled on my curls. “I forgot to think this whole thing out,” I admitted. “If I win . . . you two give up the rights of your five-year contract and work for real. I won’t fire you unless you give me no choice.”
“God damn, Hooters runs a tough bargain,” Mrs. C said, giving her sister a nervous glance.
“I’ll take it,” Edith said, slamming her hand down on the table. “You deal.” She handed the cards to her sister and started praying.
Mrs. C shuffled the deck, but she didn’t look happy. I watched her closely. They were so good at cheating, it was fascinating. It all looked fair so far. She dealt the cards, one up and one down to each of us. We both had a jack facing up. I peeked at my facedown card and inhaled a quick breath. An ace. I had won unless Edith had the same hand. Asswhackers, why did that make me feel so sick?
“Hit me,” Edith snapped at her sister.
She didn’t have the same hand I had. She wouldn’t have asked for another card if she did. I closed my eyes and had a silent talk with the only woman who might approve of what I was about to do . . . Grandma, if you can hear me, I might be about to do something really stupid. I know you wanted job security for the old dykes—don’t worry, they like that word—but they’re hideous employees. We’ve lost customers and they made big strong construction workers weep and almost quit. I’m beginning to see why you liked them, but I’m not sure that’s enough. It takes a while to peel through the layers. They’re kind of like onions . . . stinky but good for you . . . and they’re good at spicing things up in a profane and offensive way. But I’m not so sure that’s good for business. Fuckmonkeys. Oops, sorry. Please don’t be angry with me . . .
“Hit me,” I said, sending out a silent prayer to Jesus and Brett Favre. Mrs. C dealt me an eight. “Wow, look at that! I went over. You win, Edith.” I tried to shove my cards into the middle of the deck and be done with it, but they were having none of it.
“Gimme those.” Mrs. C yanked the cards out of my hand and paled. She handed the cards to Edith, who gave me a questioning stare.
“Did your knockers absorb your brain?” Edith asked.
“No, I must have, um . . . misjudged my, you know . . .” I was cornered. I didn’t like being cornered, especially when I had done something nice. Stupid, but nice. “All right, listen up, you old queers. I did it on purpose. I may live to regret this moment the rest of my natural life, but right now it feels like the right thing to do. Buuut, since I did throw the game, I get to add one more nonnegotiable item to the contract.”
“Is that fair?” Edith asked her sister.
“I’m gonna go with a yes on that one,” Mrs. C said. “What do you want?”
“Every Saturday and Sunday you two will teach underprivileged teens and low-income women to knit. You will be kind to them and you will teach them to make things they need for themselves and their children . . . scarves, mittens,
hats, stuff like that.”
“No swearing at all?”
“None, and no statements that require a ‘bless your heart,’” I told Edith.
They did a little twin telepathy and gave each other a curt nod. “We’ll take it.”
“Oh shit, you will?” I gasped.
“Yep.” Mrs. C grinned. “Regretting it already?”
“Kind of,” I admitted, grinning back.
“Here,” Edith said, shoving another vodka shot into my hands. “This will make everything better.”
“Will you two really be able to curb your insults?” I asked.
“That will be a challenge, Watermelons.” Edith shook her head regretfully and tossed back her shot.
I tossed back my own and was hit with inspiration, possibly drunken inspiration, but whatever. “I’ll tell you what, you can keep insulting me as much as you want as long as you don’t go after the customers and the shelter women. Free reign. Once a week I’ll let you take your best shots.”
“Will you attack back?” Edith asked.
“Absolutely. And occasionally I’ll bring guest attackers.”
“Like that little asshat Mariah Carey?” Mrs. C questioned.
“Yep and my roommate Rena would be fantastic.”
A slow smile split both of the old lesbos’ faces. “You’ve got yourself a deal!” Edith shouted and did a jig that culminated in a dizzy spell and her ass landing on the floor. She was looking a little green.
“If you puke in my room, I will make you eat it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she muttered as she crawled back to her chair.
“Did somebody say my name?” Mariah asked, coming out of the bathroom.
“Yeah, we’re going to have a once-a-week, no-holds-barred, name-calling fest with the lesbos when we get back to Minneapolis. Do you want in?” I asked, handing her a shot.
“Of course.” She grinned and downed her shot. “Are you guys ready to see the new and improved Kim?”
“We’ve been waiting two goddamned hours, you little swamp-ass,” Mrs. C snapped. “This better be good.”
“Oh, it will be, you crotchety old dyke,” Mariah laughed. “Come on out, Kim.”
“Can I look in the mirror yet?” she called from the bathroom.
“No,” I heard Boo say. “Not until everyone sees you.”
Boo came out first, followed by a lovely woman with a very flattering layered bob. Wispy bangs complemented her heart-shaped face. Her hair was a gorgeous dark honey blond with strawberry blond highlights. She was wearing subtle makeup that made her sparkling gray eyes pop. Her nails were a soft blush pink and her full lips matched her nails. WTF?
“Kim?” I choked out.
The room was silent. Even the old queers couldn’t think of one horrid thing to say. She was simply beautiful. Had Mariah and Boo actually done this? And how had they done it with a box of drugstore hair dye?
“Is it bad?” Kim whispered. Our reaction terrified her.
“God, no,” I sputtered. “Just the opposite. You’re beautiful.”
“I am?” Kim’s eyes started to well with tears.
“For shit’s sake,” Edith snapped, “don’t cry. You’ll run your mascara.”
“It’s okay,” Boo said, taking Kim’s hand and leading her to the mirror above where my desk used to be before we played the life-changing poker game on it. “I used waterproof.”
Kim walked in front of the mirror and froze. For a brief moment I thought she didn’t like what she saw. She leaned into the mirror and carefully traced her reflection. “I’m pretty,” she whispered.
“No need to be all vain about it,” Mrs. C said. “You’re very pretty, you’ve got a nice large rack, and a big booty. Men like juicy bums. So enough about you. Who wants a shot?”
“For God’s sake, don’t be such an asswad,” Edith snapped at her sister. “Kim, you look lovely, but clearly Boo and Mariah had something good to work with.”
I was speechless for so many reasons. Kim was beautiful and Edith was being kind. Was the world ending?
“I don’t know what to do with myself.” Kim was positively giddy. “Part of me wants to stand here and stare at myself for a couple of hours, but that’s just ugly behavior.”
She paced the room like a caged tiger. She was making me dizzy . . . no wait, that was all the vodka I’d consumed.
“Boo and Mariah, I don’t know what to say. You have changed my life. I feel like I can take on any nubile fake-breasted groupie that goes after my Hubie when he gets famous.”
“Plus, if you sit on them you could kill them,” Mrs. C added. Everyone gave her the evil eye. “What?” she shouted. “I’m just sayin’ . . .”
“I think you should go see your hubby.” I smiled at Kim. “You’re gonna knock his socks off!”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” she said, running around the room and hugging everyone . . . twice. “I love all of you and I will have your backs till the day I die!”
“Get the hell out of here,” Mrs. C groaned. “I can’t take much more of this mushy crap.”
Without further ado, Kim raced out of my room and back to her rock star hubby.
“Well, at least somebody’s going to be getting it tonight,” Mrs. C muttered, reshuffling the cards. I wondered if she planned to cheat Mariah and Boo out of some money . . .
“I’d have to put that into the category of TMI,” Mariah stated, pouring herself another shot. “Anyone else?” she asked, holding the bottle up.
“Pour a round for everyone,” Edith said, settling herself back down at the card table. “Wait a minute. Boo, are you old enough to drink?”
“Yep, but I don’t.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Alcoholic crackheads run in my family,” Boo told her, pulling out her bible.
“Good enough,” Edith said. “What in the hell is your excuse?” she asked Mariah.
“It’s my dream to become one.”
“Good enough,” Edith replied. Boo giggled and threw a pillow at her sister.
“Who’s in?” Mrs. C bellowed. “I’m ready to play cards.”
I decided to just lie on my bed and watch. I’d done enough damage playing with the lesbians for the evening. Plus, I was feeling slightly woozy from the shots. Boo chose to recite passages from the bible. Mariah was the only one brave enough . . . or stupid enough . . . to play with the old gals.
“Mariah, how in the hell did you make Kim’s hair look like that?” I sat up on the bed and crawled over next to her.
“It was easy. I cut off all the dead shit and layered it. Then I did a new base color in a darker blond and painted in the highlights,” she said and downed her shot.
I was speechless . . . almost. “How in the hell did you learn how to do that?”
She shrugged her shoulders and poured another shot.
“The Internet,” Boo said. “And it’s not easy. She’s amazing.”
I had a vague recollection of Mariah doing her anger management classes on the Internet too. “Did you do the makeup?” I asked the green-haired wonder.
“Nope, that was Boo.”
I turned my focus to Boo and waited.
“Internet,” she giggled. “We don’t have any money for things like classes. We have to eat and stuff like that.” She was so matter-of-fact about something I totally understood. Being hungry sucked. Living in a car sucked worse. I shook my head and remembered I’d overcome all of that. I am the person I am today because of it.
“Why haven’t either of you pursued a career in beauty?”
“No license,” Mariah told me.
“You can’t get certified on the Internet?”
“She could have if she was taking the class legally,” Boo admitted. “But it cost too much, so we hacked our way in.”
“I could forge you a license, and not a soul in the world would question it,” Edith said as if it were the most natural thing in the world to create fake IDs.
<
br /> “She’s good,” Mrs. C chimed in. What in the hell had they done in their youth?
“Nah, don’t want to do it. People suck. I’d end up sending more to the hospital than any respectable place would allow.”
Silently I agreed with her . . . but I did have an idea.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mariah narrowed her eyes at me.
“Like what?”
“Like you do at the shelter when you’re going to send me into some bogus form of hell.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I huffed and looked away before she realized how hard I was plotting. It would have to wait until we got home anyway . . . but it would happen.
“Can I read to you guys?” Boo asked.
“Sure,” I said, getting comfortable. I was afraid I’d fall asleep. No more shots for me . . . Okay, one more.
“Hairy Sam was furious with the butt-ass stupid fucked-up ways he was depicted by Americans living in the Pacific Northwest. He cut some slack to those living in the rural South because most of them were into inbreeding. He had no issues with alternate lifestyles, but that one was gross even by his low standards.
“He and his captain decided to play a game called Fuck with the Future. Aside from the fact that they enjoyed time traveling together, his captain was in a constant search for a woman with two vaginas.
“Hairy Sam would show up and make sure idiots all over the world caught glimpses of him. He left footprints and pubic hair everywhere.”
I sat up with a jerk and almost passed out. The room was tilting a little to the left. Was the bible starting to sound familiar because I was drunk? Or because I’d actually heard this before? I racked my liquored-up brain for the answer, but nothing came. WTF? Maybe if I could stay awake for a little more of it, I’d be able to remember. I cuddled back into my lumpy bed and listened . . .
I woke up curled into a little ball. I was being spooned by Edith, who was being spooned by Mariah, who was being spooned by Mrs. C, who was being spooned by Boo. What the fu . . . ?
“Um, guys? As much as I love all of you, this just seems wrong. Like, against-my-religion wrong.”
“Oh my God,” Boo screamed, snapping out of her slumber. “Kristy, you’re alive.”
Size Matters (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) Page 22