It was a good thing Julia had a house with fourteen-foot ceilings so the hat could clear the doorways. He took off before asking to take our coats or scarves. I hung our things on one of the coat hooks in the center hallway. We spotted LB in one of the large double parlors as he made his way to find Julia. It was hard to miss the hat.
The other guests were all dressed casually-elegant as the invitation suggested for the party. Ladies had on slacks with beaded tops or holiday sweaters. The men had on sport coats without ties. Some had on shirts with ties and no coats. I recognized the couple that lived across the street from Julia. Janice had a scowl on her face while Ned was holding a glass of red wine that matched the healthy glow on his smiling face. I smiled and waved a hello as we passed them following ten-gallon hat on his mission to find Julia.
Julia was glamorous in a gold beaded dress that sparkled in the party lighting, dimmed for effect. It was fitted and showed off her figure which had been augmented in areas where nature had not been generous. The front had a scoop neck with a very low back, cut almost to the waist. Frank did an amazing job on this one. Even at five eleven in stocking feet, add the four-inch heels she was wearing and the big hair (another four inches) and ten-gallon hat was still taller than she was. Of course, he had to keep the hat on for that to work.
She had on all her bling, meaning tons of jewelry she had gotten as gifts from men she had dated when they broke it off with her. The baubles were sort of parting gifts when her suitor wanted to end the relationship. The idea was to make Julia feel it was her idea to break it off with them, because if she felt she was the one being dumped, then she went “all Julia” on them. “All Julia” was just another term for stalking or exacting revenge by way of calling his new girlfriend or new wife and telling her what gifts he had given her…recently. I’d seen it happen once and it wasn’t pretty.
After we cheek to cheek kissed, Julia said, “Look at my Christmas present.” She lifted her hand to wave a multi-strand tennis bracelet under my nose with several rows of diamonds. “I see you met my fella. LB this is Brandy and Jiff.”
The twang in LB’s accent and the ten-gallon hat said he was from Texas to me.
I made all the required “oohs” and “ahs” to indicate how beautiful I thought the bracelet was.
“What an unusual combination of diamonds. Five rows and they alternate between marquis and pear-shaped,” I said admiring the piece. “It’s stunning.”
Jiff said to LB, “You have great taste in jewelry and women.” I could have sworn LB’s big, loud laugh made the crystal chandeliers tinkle.
The bracelet had to set LB back thousands. What kind of man buys a gift like that for a woman he just met? Something seemed off. Neither one looked that head over heels about each other.
“Your suit is beautiful,” Julia said to me while Jiff was laughing it up with LB. “With that neckline you will make all the boys smile. Very festive.”
The slightly off-the-shoulder v-neckline revealed a little more cleavage than I felt 100 percent comfortable exposing. After all, I’m a product of the New Orleans Catholic School system, but I wasn’t a nun. I felt devilishly sexy in it.
It was a red two-piece silk suit with beading all over the top and sleeves. Jiff bought it for me on one of our Christmas shopping trips downtown to Canal Place a week ago. His offices are in the building complex on one of the top floors, and he asked me to meet him for dinner.
We went shopping before dinner, and he asked me to help him find a new tie for him to wear during the holidays. He pointed out the suit in the window at Saks and persuaded me to try it on. When I got to the ladies’ couture department, it was already waiting for me in a dressing room to try on. The dresser who helped me in the fitting room deftly kept the price tag out of my line of vision. When I twirled around modeling it for Jiff, he said, “It’s perfect for the holidays.” I was about to tell him it was probably out of my budget during the holidays or anytime of the year when he said, “You have to have something red to wear during the season. I knew you’d look amazing in it so it’s my treat. Merry Christmas a little early. You can wear it to any or all the parties we go to, but please, I’d like for you to wear it to my parents’ house on Christmas Eve.”
“I guess this means we’re spending Christmas together?” I had asked.
“I’m asking you to spend Christmas Eve with me only if you will wear this to my parents’ home. Will you?”
“Yes.” I said feeling guilty that I made plans not to be with Dante this Christmas Eve, even though I didn’t know at the time he would be out of town and not be able to make plans with me.
How could I refuse when I felt like a million dollars in this suit or refuse a man who showered me with more attention in one day than I ever had in my entire life. I always felt like I didn’t deserve the attention, the gifts, someone caring this much for me. It wasn’t what I grew up with or how Dante ever made me feel.
Jiff wore a bespoke suit made of a medium-weight black wool and the beautiful red silk tie I’d chosen that matched the color of my suit. His shirts were custom fitted with his initials on the sleeves. He was good-looking, tall, and fit. Most people thought so, not just me. Other women flirted and fell over him, but he was always a polite, consummate gentleman. I knew he adored me and I liked it.
“None of your neighbors get into the spirit like you do. You need to encourage them to get with the program,” Jiff said to Julia.
Uh oh. Maybe I should have briefed him on the entire neighborhood’s lack of enthusiasm over Julia’s winter wonderland display and not just the business association letter.
Frank appeared wearing black, wide-flaring, palazzo pants, a white tux shirt, a rhinestone bowtie, and eyeliner a la the lead singer in KISS. He had on silver kitten pumps. He was carrying a large, rectangular-shaped silver tray with handles on which were about a dozen champagne-filled flutes.
“That’s because the neighborhood association has a rule against putting up any outside decorations that aren’t voted on and approved,” Frank said, jumping into the conversation. “They all voted to put luminaries throughout the neighborhood, all along the streets in the entire neighborhood, even up and down the driveways. They even pay for them and have volunteers to do it. The flier says it’s to create a stately elegant holiday neighborhood atmosphere.”
“Not everyone voted on the luminaries,” Julia snapped and took a glass of champagne. “I’m not listening to the Decoration Nazis.” She saw another guest across the room waving her over, and excused herself. Jiff was about to hand her the gold foil gift he took out of the mailbox, and I put my hand on his arm to stop him. He looked at me when I stopped him and I smiled.
“Would you put that in the kitchen for me when you get a chance?” Frank asked, raising his overly arched eyebrows and lifting his hands that held the tray of champagne flutes a few inches to make the point. “I hope it’s not like the other surprises she’s been getting today.”
“What other surprises?” Jiff asked, looking from Frank to me.
I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head in an attempt to feint ignorance, but Frank couldn’t wait to tell Jiff. “Julia got another handwritten note this afternoon demanding that she takes down her blasphemous and cheap decorations.” Frank air quoted blasphemous and cheap with one hand, holding his serving tray with the other. “It was signed, ‘A Christian Neighbor.’”
I hoped to God Frank wouldn’t mention the rats.
“Blasphemous? How are Christmas decorations blasphemous?” Jiff asked. “They are a tad bit over the top, and a little tacky, but don’t these people live here and haven’t they seen Mardi Gras?”
“I know, right?” Frank said in agreement. “That’s because last night someone arranged two of the reindeer together to look like rutting season in the front yard.” He added, “And, no, it wasn’t me” when Jiff and I both dropped our jaws and looked up over our champagne glasses at him.
“It was probably one of the neighborhood kids playin
g a prank,” Frank went on. “They do stuff to annoy her on a weekly basis. They’ve rolled this place in toilet paper twice.”
Frank had the skinny on everything, so I asked, “Did any of the neighbors she had issues with RSVP and say they were coming to the party?”
“Only the ones who speak to her,” Frank said. “It’s a very short list.”
“I see the neighbors from across the street are here. Janice doesn’t seem like she’s in a festive mood,” I said.
“That’s because Julia flirts with Ned to get him to help her move furniture around. Then she can’t be bothered if Janice asks to borrow something. Julia tells her she doesn’t have it,” Frank said. “I once heard her tell Janice, ‘Why don’t you just order out? Ned says you’re not much of a cook.’”
“Why am I friends with her?” I thought I had said that to myself, but Frank and Jiff looked at me. “You heard that?” They nodded yes. “Pinky swear you won’t tell her,” and we all locked our little fingers.
Frank answered, “You’re friends because of the dogs. Brandy, you’re too nice and you put up with her because she likes dogs, and you think she can’t be all that bad because she loves animals. I’m here to tell you—she can.” Frank’s eyes scoped out the room and when he saw Julia he said, “The Queen is giving me the evil eye so I need to get back to being the Waiter Elf.” A couple came over and he offered them champagne. They each took a flute, smiled at us, and walked off. “Wait till you get a look at the brother and his new wife,” Frank said.
“Which one is he?” I asked.
“You’ll know him instantly. He’s the one in the flop sweat,” Frank said over his shoulder as he went back to serve the other guests.
“Julia has a brother?” Jiff asked.
“Yep. One that’s apparently in a flop sweat,” I said. “Whatever that is.”
“I thought Julia was the black sheep of her family,” he said in a way causing his eyes to twinkle.
“Oh no,” I said. “Not compared to him.” I took a step back to get even further away from the people standing in the room near us. “I don’t want this to be overheard. I’ve never met him. This is all based on what Julia has told me. Her brother, Larry, works in the oil field selling some kind of equipment they use on the rigs. She says he makes a lot of money,” I said. “These are Julia’s words, not mine. She says he’s a beer drinker who frequents honky tonks and chases women. His type… topless dancers or wives of other men.” Remembering what Frank enlightened me with earlier, I thought Julia might have more in common with her brother than she cared to admit based on her recent illicit affair.
“Ok, he must be a rough customer,” Jiff said.
“Again, Julia’s words are Little Larry, he was named after his dad, Larry, also got his dad’s temper and personality. They both work things out using their fists. Julia left home when she was fifteen which explains why she has poor skills relating to people. She’s been on her own ever since.”
“Why did she invite him?” Jiff asked.
“All I can say is,” I took a deep breath because some of my past holiday memories were both nostalgic and painful, “and this is speaking from experience, the holidays make women do weird stuff. It puts our hormones in overdrive, pulling at our nesting genes or maternal genes, whatever it is that makes us want to cook, bake, buy the perfect gifts, decorate the entire house in a ton of stuff like this, and visit people we would normally avoid the rest of the year.”
“So, do you have plans with your family? And, am I invited?” he asked.
“I don’t have any plans at the moment, but if I do anything more than drop off their gifts, I will let you know. You’ve met my family. Why do you want to do that again?” I asked.
“Well, I’ll leave that up to you,” he said.
“My mother and sister have never liked anything I’ve given them no matter the effort or expense I have gone to in order to give them something nice. Every year they ask where can they return it as soon as it is unwrapped. This year I’m dropping off gift certificates,” I said.
“Well, I hope whatever stuff the holiday makes you want to do, it makes you want to do it with me,” Jiff said and squeezed my hand. “This Christmas is already perfect for me now that you are in it.”
I leaned into his ear and whispered, “Oh yes, I’m all warm and gooey inside right now.” I squeezed his hand in return and said, “Come on, let’s go mingle.”
We moved around trying to meet some of the other guests and introduce ourselves to people. We met Bicky who said she was in Julia’s Pilates class and the cooking class.
“For all the good the cooking class does, most of us just drink wine while Julia tells us how we’ve been doing it all wrong,” Bicky said. “My husband and kids are still alive, so I guess I might be doing something right.”
“I just cook what I like to eat,” I said. “He takes us out to restaurants, mostly,” I nodded toward Jiff and introduced them.
Bicky’s husband said his name was Matt, and other than one or two exchanges about the Saints and LSU with Jiff, he wasn’t very talkative. Bicky sipped her wine and smiled.
A couple came in after us, left their coats in the hallway, and came directly over to where we four were standing. Bicky introduced the couple as Matt’s sister, Sheila, and her husband Patrick MacFinn. She also made a point of telling Shelia that I was a good friend of Julia’s.
Shelia MacFinn was a beautiful, statuesque woman and dressed like she was about to walk down a runway. Where Bicky had an edge about her, Sheila was glamorous. She was warm and friendly, especially so after she found out I was Julia’s friend. Patrick was nice looking, thirty-something, and dressed the part of investment banker, attorney, or whatever uptown family business he was embroiled in.
After a few minutes of small talk, and I left that mostly to Jiff, we politely moved along in search of refills for our wine.
Most of the guests who showed up were cordial but not too friendly. I wondered why they even bothered to come to a party. Since I knew Ned and Janice, I took Jiff over to introduce him to them.
“I thought you dated a cop,” Ned said and grabbed a handful of nuts off a nearby table. He tossed them into his mouth.
“Ned!” Janice jumped in and the scowl turned into a weak smile. Janice and Ned adopted a rescued schnauzer from me. Julia had suggested it back when she found out they lost their poodle of fifteen years.
“You mean my friend Dante. You have a good memory. Dante came with me when I brought you that little rescued schnauzer I named Kringle. That was right after Julia bought this place,” I said. I started thinking about Kringles from the bakery I named Janice and Ned’s schnauzer after. The Kringle is similar to the King Cake we have at Mardi Gras. They are oval shaped with a cinnamon dough base much like a King Cake, but instead of purple, green, and gold sugar sprinkled on top, they are covered in brown maple sugar and pecans. They are more decadent than their Mardi Gras cousin. The thought made me feel the need for a giant sugar fix. I’m sure Julia had one on the dessert buffet. I wanted to go search for it, but I tuned back in when I heard the mention of another adoption.
“We spoil her rotten, and we kept that name since we got her during the holidays,” Ned said, and now Janice was smiling and nodding in agreement. “We even talk about getting her a playmate.”
“Well, that’s great. Why don’t you come to the Holiday Yappy Hour tomorrow evening at the feed and seed store on Jefferson Highway? It’s a fundraiser for rescues. It’s a ten-dollar donation and they serve wine and cheese. They have dog treats for our pets. There will be a Santa Paws and photos,” I said.
“Brandy and I are going so we can take a holiday photo together with our dogs. She’s bringing Meaux and I have a schnauzer named Isabella,” Jiff said. “Rescue is the reason I first saw Brandy and found out who she was. I saw her bring a rescued schnauzer to a man in my building, and I asked him all about her. I thought she was pretty and doing a good thing. I was trying to figure out how to meet
her when a strange set of circumstances brought us together,” he said while looking at me, and then he brought up my hand he was holding and kissed it.
“I guess a strange set of circumstances brought us together too,” Janice said looking in the direction of Julia. “Ned, come with me to get another drink, not that you need one,” She walked off as Julia and her cowboy-hat-wearing boyfriend moved in our direction.
Before I could ask ten-gallon hat what brought him to New Orleans, I heard, “Does everyone in Colorado wear a hat like that, even inside?”
We all turned to see who had asked the question, and I thought it had to be Julia’s brother, Larry. I had never met him, but he had Julia’s eyes and looked every bit as she described him. He was a tall, husky guy, and a little past the point of being fit. In other words, he had the start of a healthy beer investment about to bulge over his blue jeans. He wasn’t as heavy a man as LB, but close. He also wore a flannel shirt and cowboy boots. He combed his hair with some sort of gel or paste that made it look like it was still wet from the shower. I could smell it from where I was standing. It had a clinical sort of odor, not anything like a man’s cologne, more like a scalp treatment, and he was perspiring, a lot. So much so it showed in his armpits in the shape of large, wet half moons and down the front of his shirt in a V. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat running down his forehead before he extended his hand to shake with LB.
Ten-gallon hat stuck out his big, fleshy hand to shake Larry’s and said, “I’m guessing you must be my Julie’s little brother.”
Chapter Six
“Yep. You are a good guesser,” Larry said. “But you better call her Julia; that’s her name, not Julie. She might take your head off, hat and all.”
“No, he’s not a good guesser,” Julia replied, looking at her brother and ignoring the other comment about her name. “I told him you would be the only one to come to a fancy Christmas party in jeans and boots. Larry, why don’t you go change your shirt?”
Death By Rum Balls Page 4