Bunco Babes Tell All

by Maria Geraci

  “Well, it looks like all the others you always wear,” said Shea.

  “Well, it’s not.” Pilar gave them both a peck on the cheek. “I’m glad you told us about last night, Kit.”

  Shea nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what we’re here for. To keep each other uplifted in times of crisis. How can we help if we don’t know what’s going on?”

  Pilar waved to Frida, who was working behind the bagel counter. “See you Thursday!”

  “Seven sharp!” yelled Frida. “I have something special planned.”

  “That’s right,” said Kitty. “It’s Frida’s turn to do Bunco this week.”

  “Yup. Right here at the Bistro. I always love it when Frida hosts.”

  Only three more days till Bunco. It couldn’t get here soon enough for Kitty. She needed to unwind big time.

  “So you never answered my question,” she said to Shea. “About Dolphin Isles.”

  Shea shook her head. “There must be another white Lincoln Navigator out there with FSU tags, because it wasn’t me.”

  Kitty stared at her a minute, then slowly took a sip of her coffee. In the twenty-five years she’d known Shea she’d seen just about every expression on Shea’s face. But she’d never seen this one.

  There was no doubt about it. Shea was lying to her.

  30

  Bunco at the Bistro was always a blast. Frida would set up the playing tables in the middle of the restaurant and pipe music through the overhead stereo system. Just like the signature drinks, whoever hosted each week always picked out the food and the background music. Seeing who could come up with the coolest motif was part of the fun. Frida’s choice in music always ran to something eclectic that no one else had ever heard. Tonight’s theme was Japanese. The signature drink was sake, and sushi was on the menu.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had sake before,” said Brenda.

  “It’s pretty strong,” said Liz. “Maybe we should have a designated driver for tonight.”

  “Ed has volunteered to drive anyone home who needs it,” announced Frida.

  Kitty took a sip of her sake. She’d been looking forward to Bunco all week. Especially after the disastrous date with Steve and then the strange lie she’d caught Shea in. She’d wanted to mention it to Pilar and find out her opinion, but Pilar had been so busy with work this week they hadn’t been able to get together. Maybe after Bunco tonight the three of them could sit down and straighten it out.

  Frida clapped her hands to get the group’s attention again. “I have an announcement to make. In just a few minutes, we’re going to be joined by some special guests. I told them to come around seven thirty, before we started playing.”

  Brenda and Lorraine gave each other a look. “You’ve invited outsiders to Bunco?” asked Brenda.

  “They’re not outsiders,” Frida clarified. “And they’re not going to stay for the Bunco part. But I thought this could be a preview of something new. Instead of playing Bunco every week, maybe we should mix it up with something different.”

  The room went silent.

  “Something different?” Shea finally repeated in a horrified voice.

  “We’ve been playing together for ten years now, and frankly, it’s getting a little old.” Frida held up her sake. “Like the signature-drink thing. Every week we try to outdo each other. Wouldn’t it be nice to take a break from that every once in a while? I think we should alternate Bunco with a community project or a book club every other week.”

  “A book club?” Shea said. “You mean, we’d sit around and talk about books?”

  “That’s right,” said Frida. “As much fun as Bunco is, you have to admit, it’s not very intellectually stimulating.”

  “I don’t come to Bunco to become intellectually stimulated,” said Tina. “I come to hang out with my friends and have fun.”

  “A book club can be fun too,” Frida insisted.

  “Are there dice involved?” Liz asked.

  Frida narrowed her eyes. “You know there’s not.”

  “What about prizes?” asked Brenda.

  “The ‘prize’ is the knowledge that you’re expanding your mind by discussing books with other people.”

  “Would we get to shout and laugh and act stupid like we do in Bunco?” Tina asked.

  “What if we’re discussing a sad book?” asked Shea. “Like the ones Oprah is always touting on her show. Oprah only likes books about the Holocaust or addictions. How are we going to have a good time if we have to talk about the Holocaust?”

  Frida pressed her lips together.

  “If we don’t have signature drinks, then what do we serve?” asked Brenda.

  “You drink wine at book clubs,” Frida said.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Liz. “Instead of playing Bunco and having signature drinks and laughing and being stupid and getting prizes, you want us to sit around and drink wine and talk about the Holocaust?”

  “Oh, never mind,” Frida grumbled.

  Just then the front door opened and in walked Viola and Gus, along with Mr. Milhouse and several other Gray Flamingos. Pilar’s parents, Isabel and Antonio, were with them.

  “What’s going on, Mami?” Pilar asked.

  “We’ve joined the Gray Pelicans,” Antonio announced.

  “That’s Flamingos,” Isabel corrected.

  “I get those two birds confused all the time,” chimed in Mr. Milhouse sympathetically.

  “I’ve invited the Gray Flamingos here to talk to us tonight,” Frida announced to the group. “I think you’ll all be very interested in what they have to say.”

  Everyone took a seat, except for Viola, who was clearly in charge. She glanced around the room and smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Frida. Don’t worry, this won’t take long. I know how my bridge group is, and I wouldn’t want to keep you girls from playing.”

  The Babes murmured in approval.

  “It’s no secret that over the past ten years, the Bunco Babes have become one of this town’s most influential groups. That said, the Gray Flamingos are here tonight to ask for your help.”

  The Bunco Babes were one of Whispering Bay’s most powerful groups? By the looks on the Babes’ faces they liked the sound of that. Viola obviously knew how to work a crowd.

  “Now prepare yourselves, ladies; what I have to say will come as a shock.”

  Kitty took a sip of her sake and edged forward in her seat.

  Viola cleared her throat dramatically. “We have it on good authority that Earl Handy plans to tear down the senior center.”

  A few of the Babes booed and hissed.

  Viola let the ramifications of her announcement sink in before she continued. “As most of you know, Earl owns the building and the land, but for the past twenty years or so he’s leased it to the city for a dollar a year. I’m not going to sugarcoat things and tell you everything’s peachy keen. The building is falling apart. The roof leaks and the plumbing is atrocious. Although I can happily say that the plumbing situation is in the process of being repaired. Pro bono,” she added, flashing Gus a smile. “But despite the problems, it’s become our building. A place for Whispering Bay’s retired citizens to socialize and keep from feeling isolated.”

  “Why would Earl tear down the senior center?” Pilar asked.

  “Yeah, it makes no sense,” Shea added, throwing Kitty an uneasy look. “Where did you hear this?”

  Kitty sat frozen in her seat.

  “Josh Bailey let it slip,” said Viola.

  “Yesterday after pottery class I had a word with him,” Mr. Milhouse said. “Damn kid never remembers to turn off the lights when we’re through. You’d think electricity is free the way he wastes it. When I threatened to get him fired, he just laughed and said he was looking for another job anyway, on account of his daddy telling him the senior center wasn’t going to be around much longer.”

  “I wouldn’t put too much credence in a rumor started by a seventeen-year-old,” Kitty said, relieved to hear this w
as the basis for their excitement. “Especially not one started by Josh Bailey.”

  “Rumors start for a reason,” said Viola. “Whatever the case, we can’t be too careful. We’ve got a petition right here demanding that the city council buy the senior center from Earl.” She handed Kitty a clipboard. “As the granddaughter of one of the Flamingos’ founding members, it’s only right that you be one of the first citizens to sign this.”

  “Of course.” Kitty took the attached pen and wrote her name on the first line in her large loopy writing.

  Viola looked at the signature and smiled proudly.

  “I doubt Earl Handy would ever allow someone to mess with the senior center,” said Kitty. “The building is named after his mother, for God’s sake.”

  Mr. Milhouse made a gurgling sound against the roof of his mouth. Kitty hoped his dentures weren’t going to fall out or anything. “Earl hated his mother. She used to make him swallow a tablespoon of castor oil every morning before school. First day of second grade Earl messed his pants while we were standing in line for music. He’s never forgiven her for it.”

  Kitty had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Maybe that’s when Earl’s obsession with his bowels started.

  “I guarantee you the only reason Earl leases that building to the city is because he’s getting some kind of tax write-off. Either that, or no one’s shown any interest in buying it. Let someone with cold, hard cash come along and Earl will sell that land so fast it’ll make your head spin,” said Viola.

  For one chilling instant, Kitty panicked. She tried to recall the exact description and dimensions on the contract regarding the beachfront property. She had gone over the paperwork Teresa had drawn up dozens of times, mostly to make sure the names were spelled right, but she was certain the land Ted wanted to buy only bordered the senior center. It most definitely did not include the section of land where the center was located.

  Kitty had never thought about the ramifications of having the condos so close to the center.

  What would Viola and the Gray Flamingos think of all that construction? She would have to talk to Ted about making some concessions. They could erect one of those walls that blocked out the noise—the ones they used on the highways. Or maybe, she could even get Ted to donate some money to the center to make up for the inconvenience the construction would cause. That would certainly keep the Flamingos happy. Ted might balk at having to spend money on something that didn’t belong to him, but Kitty would just have to point out that it was in his best interest to keep the senior center as attractive as possible.

  “I think you’re all worrying over nothing,” Kitty said. “I’ve met with Earl recently, and if anything, he seems reluctant to sell his land.”

  “Aren’t you a Realtor?” asked Mr. Milhouse. “What would Earl be doing meeting with you if he wasn’t considering selling?”

  A few of the Babes glanced at Kitty.

  “Rumor has it Earl’s in seclusion over at that house of his in Mexico Beach. When did you meet with him?” he persisted.

  Shit. When was she going to learn to keep her big mouth shut? She sucked at this “keeping things under wraps” stuff. “I can’t give out details, not yet anyway, but my reason for meeting with Earl has nothing to do with the senior center.” She made an X over her chest with her index finger. “Cross my heart.”

  Mr. Milhouse looked leery, but Viola nodded confidently. “If Kitty says Earl’s not selling the senior center, then he’s not selling the senior center. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be safe. Now, if the rest of you ladies would like to sign this?” Viola motioned to the clipboard.

  The Babes lined up and added their signatures below Kitty’s. Frida invited the Flamingos to stay for sushi, but Mr. Milhouse nixed the idea.

  They began to roll for ones, but Kitty couldn’t keep her mind on the game. She had to go read the contract again and make sure she was right. Not that she doubted it. But still, it couldn’t hurt. Her chi demanded it.

  “I think I feel a little queasy,” she announced at the end of game one.

  “Oh no,” said Brenda, “do you think the sushi’s bad?”

  Lorraine shook her head. “I knew we shouldn’t be eating raw fish.”

  Frida rolled her eyes.

  “I’m sure the sushi’s fine,” said Kitty. “I just need to go home and lie down.”

  “Ed can drive you,” Frida offered.

  “Thanks, but it’s a two-minute drive. I’ll be fine,” said Kitty, avoiding any eye contact with Shea or Pilar.

  But she’d only be fine once she was certain she was right about that contract.

  31

  Her hands gripped the steering wheel. What kind of contract only gave specs for a location? How was she supposed to know what was where? She was accustomed to a contract having a street address, for God’s sake.

  Don’t panic, Kit. Just because the Flamingos were in an uproar didn’t mean anything. She just needed Earl’s assurance that everything was all right.

  She glanced at the dashboard clock. It was almost eight thirty, Central time. Why did Mexico Beach have to have two time zones? What kind of freak aberration was that? She couldn’t remember if Earl lived in fast time (what the locals called EST) or slow time, but either way it was too early for him to be in bed, wasn’t it?

  DeeDee looked surprised to see her. “You again?”

  “I’m sorry to come by without calling. Is Mr. Handy still up?”

  “I’m not some titty baby who’s in bed by six,” Kitty heard Earl holler from the living room.

  DeeDee grinned and ushered her inside. “We were just working on a puzzle.”

  Earl sat at a table spread with what looked to be a thousand tiny puzzle pieces. “Want to join us? It’s supposed to be the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Um, no, thanks.” Kitty pulled a copy of the contract from her bag. “I was looking over the paperwork again and I had a quick question.”

  “You young people. All you do is work. Don’t you have a husband or something?”

  Kitty shook her head.

  “Shame,” muttered Earl. “So what can I do for you?” He made a face. “I’m not bringing the price down again. We’ve already signed the contract. Vince went over the roof when I told him we were going to turn down that TNT deal.” Earl laughed. “It was worth losing that money to see his face turn purple.”

  DeeDee shook her head. “You should cut Vince some slack.”

  “What for?” Earl asked. “Getting him riled up is the highlight of my day. That and my visit to the john.”

  Kitty cleared her throat. “You’ll never believe what happened tonight. I ran into Viola Pantini. You remember her, don’t you? She’s head of the Gray Flamingos.”

  “Bah!” Earl batted his hand through the air. “They’re nothing but a bunch of geriatric losers. Except your grandmother of course,” he added, looking contrite. “She was a fine woman. Just had her priorities a little mixed up, is all.”

  “They seem to think you’re planning to tear down the senior center,” Kitty said, laughing nervously. “I tried to reassure them that wasn’t the case.”

  “Of course I’m not tearing down the center,” Earl said.

  Kitty nearly staggered in relief. “Thank God. I thought for a second there that—”

  “I’m going to let Ferguson do that. It’s his land now.”

  Kitty felt the blood drain from her face.

  DeeDee looked at her strangely. “Are you okay? You look kind of sick.” She pulled up a chair just in time for Kitty to plunk herself down. “I’m going to get you some water.”

  “Looks like she could use a whiskey instead,” said Earl.

  Kitty shook her head. “Water,” she croaked.

  DeeDee returned from the kitchen with a glass in her hand. “Here, drink up.”

  “I bet it’s diet pills,” Earl said. “Read all about it in People magazine. Don’t know why a woman thinks she needs to be a stick to attract a man.” He winked at her. “P
ersonally, I like a woman with some hips.”

  “Thanks,” Kitty responded weakly. Dear God. This was a disaster. What had she done? Why hadn’t she bothered to look at the contract more closely? Why hadn’t she gone along with the surveyor to actually visualize the land? Or more simply, why hadn’t she thought to ask exactly where the ten acres was located? Earl owned a lot of land, yes, but she should have been more careful. She sagged back in her chair.

  The truth was she could have read that contract until she’d memorized it and it wouldn’t have made a lick of difference. Her specialty was selling homes. Not obscure parcels of land. She’d been stupid. And now the town’s senior citizens were going to pay for her carelessness.

  How was she going to explain this to Viola and the rest of the Gray Flamingos? They would hate her. The whole town would.

  “Mr. Handy, I know this sounds strange, but I need a favor.”

  “Another one?”

  Kitty cringed. “Isn’t there another section of land you could sell that doesn’t have the senior center on it?” The instant she said the words she knew how ridiculous she sounded. Ted had probably scoped out that particular parcel for a reason. You couldn’t just trade one piece of land for another. Could you?

  “I’ve been giving Whispering Bay a free ride on that center for years now. The building’s falling apart. Vince says it’s nothing but a lawsuit waiting to happen. And for once, he’s right.” Earl frowned at her. “What are you worried about? It’s not your fault. You bargained a good deal for that Ferguson fella. And you’re going to get your commission, so everything’s jake. You can’t have it all, missy. Business is business.” He studied the table for a second and slipped a puzzle piece in place. “Sure you don’t want to stay and work the puzzle?”

  “I’m positive,” Kitty muttered.

  She thought about the tagline to her business card. She now knew exactly what it should read. Help me help you fuck everything up.

  32

  She drove home and took a long, hot shower, put on a bathrobe, then slipped her Bull Durham DVD into her machine and curled up on the couch.