“We could have a bachelor party for Gerald and have this guy jump out of the cake!” Mary Bennett said.
“I think subtlety is the key here. Let me give it some thought and…Lord have mercy!” The combination of the spinning chair and three Jack Daniel’s (Seven and lemon held) were making me queasy.
“Excuse me,” I said, hotfooting it toward the bathroom. “Oh, Lord, I think I’m gonna lose my lunch.”
“Can I do somethin’, hunny?” Mary Bennett said, following on my heels.
“No,” I said, shooing her off. “I’ve always considered pukin’ to be a very private affair.”
I was in the bathroom a good while, squashing my cheek against the coolness of the tile floor. Mary Bennett had called out to me a couple of times to make sure I was still breathing, and I’d moan a reply. After a half hour or so the room quit lurching, and I thought I could pick my face up off the floor.
I rose on rubbery legs, brushed my teeth, and turned off the bathroom fan that I’d turned on earlier to drown out my gagging. I was about to open the door when I heard a high-pitched cry.
“But, Daddy. I’m down to my last few dollars. You can’t cut me off.”
Mary Bennett’s voice sounded so desperate and childlike I scarcely recognized it. In all the years I’d known her, I’d never heard her cry.
“I can’t do that, Daddy. Please don’t ask me. I love him. Don’t hang up!”
The room was suddenly silent. I slowly opened the door and saw Mary Bennett sitting cross-legged on the sofa, desperately trying to choke back tears.
“Mary Bennett, is there anything I can do?” I asked gently.
“I’ve always considered a pity party to be a very private affair,” she said in a ragged voice.
I sat next to her, and hugged her neck. She melted into my chest, crying softly. After a few moments she lifted her head and said, “Pleeeze don’t tell the others, okay?”
I nodded. “Do you need some money? Warren pretty much cleaned me out, but I do have a little bit of savings—”
“Hush, Jill,” she said, putting a finger to her lips. “I wouldn’t take a cent from you. The convertible is in my name, so I can sell it if I absolutely have to. There’s this fellow in the neighborhood who’s always had his eye on it.”
“The Tammymobile,” I said sadly.
“Well, I won’t sell if I can help it, but don’t think one more thing about it. One day I’ll have enough money to buy us the biggest, flashiest convertible in the entire world. Screw Daddy’s money! I’ll make my own.”
“I guess there wasn’t really any painting going on at your house.”
She shook her head. “When I told Daddy about Brian, he had ‘his people’ check him out—found out he’s a mostly unemployed actor, just like me, and swore he would NOT support TWO of us—that the Man should be the Provider and all that crap. Said that until Brian got a real job or I ditched him, I’d not get another penny. Told me I could get a job and support his sorry ass if I wanted to but he’d be damned if HE was gonna pay for another MAN to sit on his butt claiming to be an ‘actor’—oh, fuck it. Forgive me for fibbin’. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. And there really ISN’T anything wrong with Brian—he’s a good, honest, hardworking man—only it’s harder to GET the work than do it, and Daddy just doesn’t understand…I’m sorry—you don’t need to hear all my troubles.”
“But Mary Bennett, that’s why you have friends.”
That started her blubbering all over again. “I can’t lose Brian, Jill. He’s my first.”
“I know,” I said, lightly scratching her back. “The first love is the strongest.”
“Not just that,” Mary Bennett said, pulling away and staring up at me, her eyes fringed with damp lashes. “He’s my first everything.”
“You don’t mean…”
“Yes, I do,” she said with a solemn nod.
“But Mary Bennett, in high school—”
“All an act,” she said, biting her bottom lip until it turned white from her teeth marks. “My daddy was sleeping with anyone in a skirt, so I figured I would fight back by sleeping with anyone in pants. Trouble was, I was too scared to actually go through with it. But that was the beauty of high school, you didn’t have to actually do the dirty deed to get credit for it, you just had to act like ya did.”
“Oh my God,” I said, gently grasping her wrist.
“Brian understands me,” Mary Bennett said. “It’s like he’s got those X-ray glasses from the back of the comic book, and can see straight into my heart. No man’s ever been able to do that—none’s ever cared enough to even try. He is the only man I ever believed really loves me.” A brittle laugh escaped her lips. “It’s ironic, ya know. The one time Daddy pays me any attention is the only time I wish he wouldn’t.”
“I’m so, so sorry, hunny.”
“That’s all right,” she said, scrubbing away her tears with her fists. “Ever since I was a little girl, my dream was to please my daddy—make him proud of me—but this time, I’m gonna have to please myself.”
Chapter
12
The thrill is gone,” I sang in a melancholy voice as I slipped files into their proper places in the cabinet.
“Jill!” My boss stuck her head inside my office, reading glasses dangling from a chain around her neck. “Could you come here for a minute?”
“Sure, Penny,” I said, banging shut a drawer. I strode to her office and saw Mrs. Dickerman sitting in one of the rounded-back chairs across from Penny’s desk. Mrs. Dickerman had on a pair of bright blue shorts that accentuated the network of fine veins running through her pale, fleshy legs. On her feet she wore rubber flip-flops, and one of her toes was wrapped with a bandage. I scooted into the chair next to her and nodded a greeting, but she didn’t meet my eye. The mood in the office was decidedly frosty and grim, and I was pretty certain I was fixin’ to get an ass chewin’.
Penny’s eyes were blue and chillingly cold, and her hooked nose looked sharp as a hawk’s.
“Jill, did you happen to notice the injury to Mrs. Dickerman’s big toe?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“Do you have any idea how she got that injury?”
“No.” But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.
“She dropped a can of cream of celery soup on it,” Penny said. “Does that ring a bell?”
“I don’t think this is entirely Jill’s fault,” Mrs. Dickerman said with a whimper. “After all, my hands were slippery. I’d been moisturizing with Jergen’s.”
I knew exactly what this was all leading to. At a recent weigh-in, Mrs. Dickerman complained that even though she’d lost twenty pounds, her upper arms were still mushy. I’d shown her a triceps exercise that would help battle those batwings, and suggested that she hold a soup can for added resistance.
“What’s our slogan here at Quick Weight-Loss Center?” Penny demanded.
“‘Lose weight without exercise.’ But Mrs. Dickerman wanted to—”
“Jill,” Penny cut me off in warning. “Mrs. Dickerman, I’m very sorry about your toe, and I’m sure Jill is, too. She had no business recommending such a dangerous exercise.” She held out a piece of paper. “Here’s a coupon for five dollars off your next visit. We’ll see you in a week.”
Mrs. Dickerman shuffled up to the desk to get her coupon. Her eyes slid guiltily in my direction. I knew she hadn’t intended to get me into trouble.
“We have a problem, Jill,” Penny said after Mrs. Dickerman left. “I should fire you. You’ve been warned not to discuss exercise with clients. Showing Mrs. Dickerman an arm exercise right after our last talk was insubordination, pure and simple.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing better than to argue.
Penny twisted a paper clip in her hand. “However, since you’ve been here ten years and this is the first real problem I’ve had with you, I’m going to give you one more chance. But, as punishment, I’m demoting you. Christy will now be our new
manager.”
I nodded, not trusting what I might say. Christy was three years younger than me and had worked at Quick Weight-Loss Center for only six months. She kept a Magic 8 Ball on her desk and was always consulting it for important decisions, being too uncoordinated to flip a coin and also having trouble deciding whether to choose “heads” or “tails.” The Magic 8 ball was a real time-saver for ol’ Chris.
“You’re in a foul mood,” I said to Tammy, pumping my arms as we circled the walking track around the YMCA. I slowed my pace to a near crawl so she wouldn’t have to walk alone. Patsy and Mary Bennett were so far ahead you couldn’t tell who they were.
“I am perspiring,” Tammy said, flapping her arms like a chicken. “And the other girls are a mile away—we’re missing all the latest rumors. Why don’t we just go somewhere and EAT. Hunny, now, tell the truth—wouldn’t you really rather sit around in some nice air-conditioning—with a tableful of sweet, salty, fried, and au gratins with a big side of delicious gossip?” she pleaded. “Lord, I know I would. I despise all this sweat—it’s disgusting!”
“That’s the idea,” I said. “You’re supposed to work up a sweat—there’s simply no other way to get in shape.”
“Huh! I don’t know that I want to change my shape. I think men prefer curvy women. My daddy always said the only use he had for a skinny woman was to take a message to a fat one.”
She’d been squawking the entire fifteen minutes we’d been walking, and I was getting more resentful by the minute. It was my turn to be in a dark mood. I was the one with the miserable job. I was the one who spent night after lonely night in a narrow-ass bed while Tammy cuddled up to her cutie-pie Ken doll. What the hell did she have to be crabby about?
“Guess who called last night?” Tammy said, her lower lip jutted out so far a pigeon could have perched on it. “Stacy. That’s who.”
“Stacy?”
“The Hair Ball girl. Remember? Turns out she called the chairman of the ball to tell her about me, and the chairman told her they didn’t have any openings on their stupid committees so my services wouldn’t be needed.”
I paused for a moment to shake a rock loose from my Adidas. The sun was just coming up, and the grass was glittering with dew. “Count your lucky stars. They probably would have had you stuffing envelopes or some other mind-numbing chore.”
“Guess who the chairman of the Hair Ball is? Marcy Stevens!” Tammy said, spitting out the name. “Only it’s not Stevens anymore, it’s Highsmith. She married the president of Highsmith Insurance. No openings, my ass—Marcy just didn’t want me on the committee. It’s the fuckin’ Key Club all over again.”
“I hate her—hope she dies,” I said offhandedly and started to walk again. It didn’t even register that Tammy had slipped back into her true trash-talking ways. I’d been the one to suggest an early-morning trek, but I was no longer in the mood; my legs and mind felt heavy.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said bitterly from her own world. “You can have a great job and a red-hot husband, but you can’t ever get away from assholes like Marcy. She probably laughed herself sick at the idea of the loser from high school trying to be a part of her precious Hair Ball. She’s just been WAITING all these years to get back at me for her Homecoming Humiliation.”
“So what?” I said, without my usual patience. “Even if she’s trying to snub you, who is Marcy to you anymore? Frankly, I’d love to have seen her face when Stacy told her that she wanted YOU on her committee! I bet she nearly shit, and now she’s prolly in a complete meltdown that Stacy will find out about Homecoming and she’ll be humiliated all over again—we can only hope.”
A startled look appeared in Tammy’s green eyes, as if she were trying to process my question. In the meantime, Patsy and Mary Bennett had backtracked to join us.
“I’m pooped,” Mary Bennett said, grabbing her bony knees and stretching. “Why don’t we take a little breather and go over our plans for tonight?”
We arranged ourselves around a picnic table a few feet away from the dirt track.
“Why don’t we quit altogether and just talk about what all we’re gonna eat tonight? That’s about the only planning I’m interested in,” Tammy said, mopping her damp forehead with the tail of her T-shirt. “Even dogs have sense enough to go lie down in the fucking shade when it’s so damned hot—I ain’t walkin’ another step on this stupid track today. Now, who’s bringing what tonight?”
As soon as there was a satisfactory list of enough fat-filled foods to give Tammy hope for the future, our conversation turned to the raft of questions raised by the return of Gerald with the mystifying Sheila. Was there anything to be done about the situation? An hour later, and sick of sitting on those hard bench seats, we were no closer to an answer.
Chapter
13
Mary Bennett’s boyfriend, Brian, was like hot fudge for the eyes. My glance slowly traveled all over him, from his black velvet eyes to his taut tan biceps.
“Earth to Jill!” Mary Bennett said, snapping me out of my Brian-induced trance.
“Was I staring?” I asked.
“Let’s put it this way,” Mary Bennett said. “If lookin’ was eatin’, there wouldn’ be nuthin’ left of MY boyfriend but a greasy spot and some crumbs. Get a grip on yourself, girl—you act like you’ve never seen a gorgeous man before!”
“Mary Bennett, you’re embarrassing me,” Brian said in a low, smooth, oboelike voice. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jill, and, for the record, I didn’t feel like you were staring at me.”
“I was gawking all right,” I admitted. “Usually I’m a little bit sneakier.”
“Brian’s so used to being gawked at he barely notices,” Mary Bennett said. “Ain’t that right, hunny?”
“I don’t notice because I’m too busy lookin’ at you,” Brian said, grinning.
Mary Bennett rapidly waved a hand in front of her face as if she were hot. “You hear that? That’s the kind of thing this man says to me all day long! Bless his heart, he’s under some kind of delusion that he’s in love with me.”
“It’s a delusion I hope I never recover from,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist.
“There he goes again!” she said, shaking her head in wonderment. “What am I gonna do with this poor hapless soul?”
“A kiss would be nice,” Brian said.
“That’s fine, hunny,” Mary Bennett said. “But no tongue—I promised Jill I’d go easy on the mushy stuff tonight.”
I laughed. It was obvious that Mary Bennett was ass-over-teacups in love with Brian. Despite the occasional pang of something very like jealousy, I was happy she’d finally found the right guy.
As the party wore on, the Queens went out of their way to make me feel a part of things, mainly by foisting their sweeties on me. I’d danced with Jack three times, Brian five, and Bob six. Any more dancing and my feet were going to fall off.
I’d decided to take a breather at an umbrella table near the pool when Sheila approached me.
“Oh no,” I said, taking off my shoes and rubbing my feet. “You’re not going to ask me to dance too, are you?”
“Not unless you want me to,” she said with a laugh. She pointed at my shoes. “You have the right idea! My feet are killing me, too.”
“Those are cu-u-u-te shoes,” I said, admiring her glittery purple platforms. “But they don’t look very comfy.”
“They’re torture devices. It’s amazing what we girls will do in the name of fashion.” Sheila dropped one shoe. It landed next to mine, and I blinked in shock. My size tens looked like itty-bitty elf shoes next to Sheila’s.
“My feet are as big as barges,” Sheila said, obviously noting my surprise. “I have to custom order them. All my life I’ve wanted tiny feet. When I was twelve, I actually bound my feet like Japanese women used to do, but it didn’t help.”
“I know exactly how you feel. I once bought size seven shoes and forced myself to wear them even though they pinched like hell. I k
ept thinking my feet would shrink to fit the shoes.”
“Big-girl woes,” Sheila said, smiling at me companionably. She tugged on her hair, which shifted unnaturally. Mary Bennett was right. Sheila was definitely wearing a wig. I wondered if, in addition to the big-foot blues, she also suffered from the heartbreak of skinny hair. If so, she was in damn good company.
Tammy approached us, gathering her hair up into a ponytail. “You think we’ll swim later on? It’s as hot as the hammered-down hinges out here.”
“Back to the Baptist Youth Group version of cussin’, Tammy? I swear, I miss the girl who woulda said ‘It’s as hot as P-FUCK out here and I am fixin’ to git my cute little ass in that nice cool water!’ I thought she was back today out there on that track—y’all shoulda heard her, I swear,” I said, laughing.
“I didn’t bring a suit,” Sheila said.
“Hunny, you won’t need one,” I said. “SOME of us may try to fool you with Pollyanna-talk, but we all still love to skinny-dip.”
“Oh dear,” Sheila said, covering her large chest with her hands. “I guess I’m the modest type.”
That was a bit hard to swallow since she was once again wearing a dress the size of a hanky, but I guess it’s a big leap from dressing seductively to not dressing at all.
“You could always swim in your bra and panties,” I said.
“Not me.” Sheila dropped her voice to a whisper. “I never wear panties to a party. Panty lines, you know.”
“Never?” Tammy said, wide-eyed.
Sheila nodded.
“No panties to a party,” I mused to myself. “What an intriguing notion.”
“You Can’t Hurry Love” blared from the speakers and all three of us said in unison, “THE SUPREMES!”
Tammy and Sheila dragged Bob and Gerald to the makeshift dance floor underneath the shade of an enormous live oak. Mary Bennett and Brian were already jiggling up a storm, as were Patsy and Jack. I was the only one without a partner. Clearly, the hour of appeasing the decrepit old maid was over.
The Sweet Potato Queens' First Big-Ass Novel Page 11