Tickled Pink

by Debby Mayne

  “It’d be worse if I didn’t take the bags down the hall. Let’s get dressed and go for a walk.”

  Walkin’ is the last thing I wanna do, but I know it’ll be good for me. So I get outta bed, take a shower, and do my best to cover my puffy face with makeup like Priscilla taught me.

  Jimmy grins when I come outta the bathroom. “Lookin’ good, hon. I got me the purtiest wife in Miss’ippi.”

  Me and Jimmy’s been married five years, but since I got pregnant, he’s gotten sweeter. Somethin’ happened when I started carryin’ his baby—and I like it. If it takes bein’ pregnant to get the kinda compliments he’s dishin’ out, we just might wind up with a houseful of young’uns.

  We hold hands as we walk through the lobby of the hotel, toward the front door that Jimmy opens for me. It’s still early mornin’, but the heat from the sun beatin’ down on the sidewalk and the front of the buildin’ near ’bout takes my breath away.

  “Wanna have breakfast at Olson’s?”

  I nod. In spite of how much I ate last night, I’m starvin’ half to death. “Pancakes sound good to me.”

  “Me too. I think I’ll order a double stack.”

  I smile as we walk into Olson’s Diner, knowin’ me and Jimmy have both been blessed with genes that allow us to eat near ’bout as much as we want without havin’ to worry about gettin’ fat. Back in school, I was made fun of for bein’ so gangly, but now them same girls is havin’ to go on diets. The only reason I’ll be gainin’ any weight is ’cause I’m carryin’ a baby, but once it’s born, I know the weight’ll come right off. At least I think it will, except maybe a little bit of tummy.

  We stuff ourselves before walkin’ around downtown, hopin’ to see folks we know. But we don’t. Piney Point has grown, partly from people who work at the University of Southern Miss’ippi in Hattiesburg wantin’ small-town life when they go home and partly from Piney Point and Hattiesburg city limits gettin’ closer and closer to each other. One of these days you won’t know when you leave Hattiesburg and arrive in Piney Point if things keep headin’ this-a-way.

  “Wanna stop off at the Cut ’n Curl on the way back to the hotel?” Jimmy asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Seems weird not to see ’em on Main Street. I wonder how that knitting shop is doin’ in the old Cut ’n Curl location.”

  I glance over at the store and see all kinds of stuff in the window—from scarves and sweaters to blankets in all colors. “Looks like they’re busy knittin’.”

  “Yeah, I reckon that’s good.”

  “Maybe I should take up knittin’.”

  Jimmy glances down at me, but he don’t say nothin’. Good thing ’cause it don’t look like he’d have somethin’ nice to say.

  Since the new Cut ’n Curl and spa are a few blocks from downtown, we drive over there, instead of walking. Jimmy looks up at the buildin’ and then back at me. “Don’t look that much different than how it did before the old place burnt down.”

  “It’s called a replica.”

  “Whatever it’s called, I don’t get why she didn’t go for somethin’ more modern. This place looks just downright old.”

  We get outta the car and go inside where some young girl is standin’ at the desk starin’ at somethin’ on the computer screen. She looks up at me and Jimmy and grins. “Y’all got an appointment?”

  “Nah,” Jimmy says. “We just stopped by to see how Priscilla’s makin’ out with her new digs.”

  The girl makes a confused face. “I beg your pardon?”

  “This place. It’s new.” Jimmy speaks slowly, like he’s talkin’ to someone who don’t speak English.

  “I don’t think so,” the girl says. “It’s been in Piney Point for, like, ever—at least a couple years.”

  “Three years,” I say as I step up beside my husband. “Is Priscilla here?”

  “Yes, but she’s with a client right now.”

  “Can you go tell her Celeste and Jimmy’s here to see her?”

  She tightens her lips as she looks back and forth between me and Jimmy, tryin’ to decide what to do. I’m about to tell her we’ll come back later when she nods and says she’ll be right back.

  After she disappears behind the wall, Jimmy shakes his head. “This place is weird. I don’t get why women wanna come here when they can go to that place over by the Interstate, where they don’t make folks have appointments, and they send out coupons for ten-dollar haircuts.”

  “That’s why,” I say. “We like to feel important, and if we have an appointment, we know that time has been set aside for us.”

  Jimmy opens his mouth to tell me what else is on his mind when I hear Priscilla comin’ from behind the wall. Her voice is distinctive and accent-free, sorta like a newscaster’s.

  “Hey, there, Celeste,” she says as she approaches. Her gaze travels up and down me, and she breaks into the widest grin I ever seen on her. “Are congratulations in order?”

  “They are if you like to congratulate new mamas and daddies,” Jimmy says. “Me and my wife is gonna be parents in about six months.”

  “Oh.” Priscilla’s eyebrows is still raised high. “You look . . . very nice.”

  We chat about this and that for a few minutes, until she looks at her watch. “I need to go back and wash out the color, but it sure was good to see both of you.”

  “Don’t tell Laura you seen us,” I say. “We’re goin’ to her house now to see if she needs any help.”

  She gets a strange look on her face. “Oh, you might want—”

  The girl behind the desk interrupts and says she has a call on line three. Priscilla waves, picks up the phone, and walks around behind the short wall.

  On our way out the door, I wonder what Priscilla was about to tell us. Oh well, I reckon if it’s important, she’ll let us know later.

  34

  Priscilla

  I hang up after talking to Mother and ask Alicia where Celeste and Jimmy are. “I wanted to tell them something before they see Laura.”

  “They left.”

  “Maybe I can catch them. Do me a favor and get me Celeste’s number. I think I still have it listed under Boudreaux.”

  Alicia approaches my station after I finish washing the color out of my client’s hair. “I think the number you have listed for Celeste Boudreaux is old. I tried calling it, and some guy answered. He says he doesn’t have a clue who Celeste is.”

  “I really need to talk to her.” I pause and think for a moment. “Maybe Laura or Pete has it. Do me a favor and call Laura Moss and try to get either Jimmy or Celeste’s cell phone number.”

  Alicia nods. “I’ll try.”

  After she leaves, I put the finishing touches on my client’s hair and spin her around to get her approval. “So how do you like what I did with your hair?”

  She studies her hair from the front and side angles. “It looks real nice, Priscilla. I wish you’d think about stayin’ here in Piney Point, but I don’t reckon you’d ever wanna do that, now that you’re famous and all.”

  I smile down at her. “It has nothing to do with fame. It’s just that I have so many salons and my products on TVNS, I don’t have time to stay in one place very long.”

  As she stands, I can feel her hesitation. When she turns to face me, I see a completely different kind of expression—a more motherly look—on her face. “If I can offer one piece of advice, Priscilla, that would be to find yourself a nice man, settle down, and have yourself some kids before it’s too late.” She touches my arm. “I know how important a career is to some women, but just remember that your career won’t come visit you in the nursing home when you’re an old woman.”

  I smile back at her and refrain from telling her what I’m thinking—that in the future, I’ll only take appointments for people going to the class reunion. After she leaves, I sweep the floor around my station and try not to think about her advice, but her words keep playing over and over in my head. Having children has never been high on my priority
list, but it’s actually starting to play in my mind.

  The sound of snapping fingers brings me back to where I am. Sheila hands me a slip of paper. “Celeste’s number. Alicia said you need it.”

  “Thanks. I need to give her a quick call. Be right back.” Without another word, I run toward the back room so I can speak to Celeste in peace.

  I punch in her number, and the call goes straight to voice mail—with her voice. At least I know I have the correct number. I leave a message for her to call me back immediately.

  When I return to my station, Tim is sitting in the styling chair. “Hey, Priscilla. I know you’re busy as all get-out, so I thought I’d just drop by and say hey.”

  “Hey.” I pick up one of my hair volumizing combs. “Have time for me to style your hair?”

  He points to the comb. “Not with one of them. I got me too much hair as it is.”

  “I can thin it out.”

  Tim laughs. “You just wanna get your hands on my hair.”

  I lift my hand in mock surrender. “Busted. So what’s on your agenda today? Laura got you hopping?”

  “Not really. I expected to have a bunch of loose ends to tie up, but looks like Pete and Laura done it all.”

  “You sound sad about that.”

  He shrugs. “I reckon I am. I like to feel needed.” He looks at himself in the mirror as I snip the ends of his hair. “I coulda waited ’til Friday night to come to town, and I don’t think anyone woulda missed me.”

  “I would’ve.” The instant I say those words, I know they’re true. But Tim’s expression lets me know he doesn’t believe me.

  “Thanks, Priscilla.” He smiles as he stands. “I better get outta here so you can get back to work. No point in me hangin’ around makin’ a nuisance of myself.”

  “You’re not—”

  “Priscilla, your next appointment is here.” Alicia gestures for the woman to have a seat at my station.

  Tim gives me a long look before he leaves. I have to stifle an overwhelming urge to run after him.

  “He seems to be such a nice young man. Your mother told me he’s been chasing you for years, and you never let him catch you.”

  I turn toward the woman who sounds very familiar. “Mrs. Graham?”

  She grins. “I was worried you wouldn’t recognize me, Priscilla.”

  Whew. I haven’t seen Virginia Graham since I left Piney Point to open my Jackson salon. Not long after I moved away, she retired from being the receptionist in the English department at the Piney Point Community College where both of my parents are still professors. “Of course, I recognize you. So what can I do for you today?”

  “I’m thinking about changing to a more youthful hairstyle. You don’t think people would think I’m silly for that, do you?”

  “Absolutely not.” I lift my volumizing comb again. “How would you feel about letting me try out the Ms. Prissy Big Hair system on you?”

  She giggles. “If that’s the one you use on TVNS, I’d love it. Your products look so lovely on all those TV models.”

  “What’s nice about them is that they’re real people, just like you and me.”

  “Oh, Priscilla honey, I know you’re trying to be nice, but you’re nothing like me or anyone else around here.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re bigger than life—the one claim to fame Piney Point has and probably the only one we ever will have. You’re a TV star.”

  As I work the comb through Mrs. Graham’s hair, I talk about how I’m still the same girl who used to come sit on her desk while Mother counseled students in her office. “Remember that time I got all that chocolate on my dress, and you managed to get it out before Mother saw it?”

  Mrs. Graham laughs. “Yes, I do remember that. Your mother couldn’t—and still can’t—stand food messes. That’s why she never liked anyone to eat at their desks. I was worried sick she’d find out I kept chocolate in my file drawer after you wiped it on your dress.”

  I pretend to zip my lips. “I never said a word.”

  “That makes us coconspirators, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Graham points to a Famous People News magazine teetering on the edge of the counter. “So is it true what they’re saying about you and that boy?”

  “Mrs. Graham, I’m sure you know that’s just a tabloid with a bunch of made-up stories.”

  “Maybe so, but according to your mother, this one might be closer to the truth than you want people to know.”

  So now my mother is part of the gossip chain? Ever since she joined the Classy Lassies Red Hat group, she’s been different. Dad even blames them for breaking up their marriage. I’ve reminded him that if his and mother’s marriage had been strong enough, no social club would be able to come between them. Besides, according to Mother, the reason she joined the group in the first place was because Dad had already lost interest in doing things with her.

  After she leaves, I try to call Celeste again, and I still go straight to voice mail. She must not have her phone on. I call Tim to see if he’ll try to track them down.

  “I’ll do what I can.” Tim chuckles. “Want me to lasso ’em and bring ’em in?”

  “Very funny, cowboy.”

  “Seriously, what’s the big deal? You’ll see Celeste when she comes in for her appointment, right?”

  “I don’t think she’s scheduled one this time.”

  “Okay, this sounds serious. Ever since you made her over ten years ago, she swore she’d never attend another reunion without having you work on her.”

  “Maybe you can lure her in here with an offer for a free service,” I suggest. “I don’t think she’s ever turned down something free.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll see what I can do.”

  If anyone can find Celeste in Piney Point, Tim can. That man is relentless in his pursuit of whatever he’s after, including me . . . until now. Something has changed in our relationship, and I sense that Tim’s feelings for me might have faded. And that really bugs me.

  35

  Tim

  The first place I go is the hotel on Main Street, where I suspect Jimmy and Celeste are prob’ly stayin’ since they’re old Piney Pointers. I’ve noticed that folks from this town are loyal to their own, and they only accept change when there’s no other choice. I amble right on up to the registration counter and grin at the girl standin’ there. She looks at me, flashes a flirty smile, then her eyes get all huge.

  “You’re the guy in the magazine . . . the one with Priscilla Slater . . . I . . . uh . . . Can I help you?”

  Now havin’ to force myself to hold the smile, I nod. “Would you mind connectin’ me to Jimmy and Celeste Shackleford’s room?”

  She points to the house phone on the wall next to the desk. “Pick that up and dial zero.”

  I do what she says. She looks directly at me as she answers and offers assistance. I repeat my request, and she says, “Hold please.”

  The phone rings a half-dozen times, until I finally hang up. I glance over at the girl who is still starin’ at me and shrug. “I reckon they’re not in their room.”

  “Um . . . they might be at Bubba Moss’s parents’ house. I heard them talking about going there when they left about an hour ago.”

  I stop and stare at her. Why didn’t she tell me that to begin with? “Okay, thanks.”

  “Have a nice evening.”

  On my way to the Mosses’ house, I call Priscilla at the salon, hopin’ she’s between customers and can talk. Sheila answers, and as soon as she learns it’s me, she tells me to hold on ’cause Priscilla really wants to talk to me. I tell her I’ll wait.

  “Hey, Tim.” Priscilla sounds outta breath. “Did you find Celeste?”

  “A little birdy told me they were headin’ over to the Mosses’ house.”

  Priscilla groans. “I was hoping we’d catch them before they went.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes. It’s supposed to be a secret, but I think you need to know that Ce
leste and Jimmy are going to have a baby. I probably shouldn’t worry about this, but I’m afraid Celeste will say the wrong thing, and Laura will sink into one of her moods.”

  “You’re right, Priscilla. You shouldn’t worry about it. Women get pregnant all the time, and I’m sure they’ll deal with it. Things have a way of workin’ out.”

  She sighs. “I know.”

  “If I see Celeste at the Mosses’ house, do you want me to have her call you?”

  “It’ll probably be too late.” She pauses. “Thanks for trying, Tim. I have to get back to my client.”

  After I disconnect the call, I try to think about all the different possibilities of how things might go between Celeste and Laura. Them two women have the strangest relationship I ever seen. They act like they can’t stand each other, but when they’re workin’ on a project together, you’d never know where one left off and the other began. It’s almost like they’re workin’ off the same battery.

  When I arrive at the Mosses’ house, I see a real expensive, brand-new, sparklin’ white SUV parked in the driveway. That don’t look like nothin’ I ever seen Jimmy or Celeste drivin’ before. Maybe they haven’t made it here yet.

  My hopes are dashed when Laura flings the door open and I see Celeste sittin’ on the sofa with Jimmy right there next to her. “Don’t just stand there starin’,” Laura says as she takes a step back. “Come on in. We were about to eat the supper Jimmy and Celeste picked up on the way here.”

  Jimmy hops up, strides right over to me, and shakes my hand. “How ya been, Tim? It sure is good to see ya.”

  “I’ve been just fine.” I’m so stunned by the way Jimmy’s actin’, all sure of himself and confident. I lean over and smile at his wife. “Hey, there, Celeste.”

  She lifts a hand and wiggles her fingers. “Hi, Tim.”

  “We brung enough food for an army, so why don’t you join us?” Jimmy glances over his shoulder at Pete. “Y’all don’t mind, do ya?”

  “No, of course not.” Pete turns to his daughter who’s sittin’ on the loveseat with some scroungy-lookin’ boy who looks like somethin’ a cat might’ve thrown up. “Why don’t you young’uns fill your plates first and come on back in here to eat so us adults can have a decent conversation? Renee, you and Wilson need to behave.”