by E M Kaplan
“Are you going to be in town for a while? We’re all going to Dan Jackson’s bachelor party. You should come.” Josie couldn’t help but stare at Kelly’s over-plucked eyebrows. They were drawn in high half-circles above eyes lined with blue eyeliner. Was she being trendy or way, way out of fashion? Josie had no idea.
“Who?”
Kelly laughed. “Very funny. Of course you remember Dan Jackson. He sure remembers you.” She winked although Josie still had no idea who Dan Jackson was. “You know, after he and Michelle got divorced last year, we thought he’d never recover. He started to drink like a fish and was dating some skanky stripper ho-bag. Michelle was cheating on him, totally. And then, she went and got married again the day after their divorce went through. We never did like her that much, remember? She was always trying to hang around with us at the football games, but we were, like, ‘as if.’ Remember that?”
Josie didn’t remember any of that and was sure she didn’t give a rat’s ass who any of these people were. One thing she did remember, however, was how Kelly and other people like her used to ignore Josie’s cousin Libby, just as Kelly was doing right now. How did she ignore a flame-headed six-foot tall woman who could probably crush her windpipe if Libby had had even a single mean fiber in her body? Libby was, in fact, leaning against the wall picking at the bricks with her nails in boredom. Painted fingernails, Josie noticed. How weird. Kind of a metallic lavender color.
“But then, Michelle went and married Mike Levit. Remember him?” Kelly was still talking. “Woowhee, he’s got a great bod. Nice butt. Really great in tight jeans. We got him to go dancing with us one night. That was when he met Michelle because she used to hang out with us, too. I was so depressed when they got married, but I’m pretty sure it won’t last. He’ll be available again someday. I just have to wait for my turn, right?” She laughed heartily. “So you should come to Dan’s bachelor party. Everybody would love to see you, I’m sure. Are you single? I could set you up with someone.”
“No thanks.” Josie didn’t even bother to give a reason why not. And she had so many to choose from.
“Oh, married, huh?” Kelly. She didn’t stop for confirmation. “You could come anyway. We’re all meeting on Wednesday night at Showgirls West. You know, that topless bar. Don’t be scared. It’s a lot of fun. We’ll get you a private dance or something. After a couple of drinks, you’ll be too wasted to get embarrassed. All you need to do is wear something trashy and bring some one dollar bills. It’s a riot. I usually have to call in sick the next day.”
“Thanks, but no,” Josie said again.
“Oh well,” Kelly said and laughed again. “Your loss this time, huh. You should ditch your husband next time and come out with us. Did he come with you or is he back in New York?”
“I live in Boston,” Josie said.
“Oh right,” Kelly said. “Well, I’ll be sure to tell everyone that you say hello and that you were really, really sorry you missed them. Dan will be really sad you couldn’t come.” Even though none of them, even if they remembered her, had known she would be in town. “Well it was great to see you. I have to scram. Gotta prepare a brief before morning.”
“Brief?” Josie said, still thinking about underpants and strippers.
“I’m a partner at Tennyson & Drake & Associates. You know, in the bank tower downtown.”
“A lawyer?” Josie said, unable to keep her eyebrows from shooting upward.
“Yeah. So much work sometimes I feel like I’m still in school, but it’s a living.” Kelly laughed heartily. Something on her beeped. She extracted a microscopic cell phone from her jacket pocket and answered it with “Can you hang on a sec?” She said to Josie, “And I love it. Well, gotta go. Tootles,” she said. And pressed her phone into her ear, leaving Josie feeling stunned. And tired, her head spinning.
#
She turned to her cousin. Libby straightened up and said. “What a spazz. Are you done talking with her?”
“I guess I am.” Josie felt like she’d been dragged through high school all over again in the span of ten minutes—and once again, had managed to survive despite the odds.
“Good. I have something to show you,” Libby said and charged ahead through the automatic sliding doors. Josie followed, relieved to be with her cousin, inhaling the sweet evening Tucson air. Just past dusk, the last light was fading. Not many people at the airport. Not any planes taking off or landing at that moment. She could actually see the stars—it had been a long time since she’d seen them. It felt like a minor league ballpark night, one of those clear, warm evenings when the echo of a stadium announcer carried far and the ballpark lights weren’t bright enough to outshine the moon. She looked around and saw Libby by an old car. Old as in antique. Libby stood on her toes in excitement, straight and tall, having never been burdened with the self-consciousness that other large girls learned.
“Check it out. It’s a 1957 T-bird that Dad and I worked on. It was missing a lot of parts, but we hunted most of them down over the Internet. Isn’t it a great color, too? We recreated it, but I picked it out. It’s called Starmist Blue.”
Josie gawked. “She’s gorgeous, Lib. Must have taken you forever to fix her up. How in the world did you get Uncle Jack to let you bring her to the airport?”
Libby shrugged. “Oh, I twisted his arm,” she said—Aunt Ruth’s words again, Josie noticed with a half-smile. “Besides, seems like no matter how bad here people are, most of them ’preciate good cars like this enough to leave ‘em alone.” True enough.
The car was a beauty—all long, cool lines and powder blue and chrome, like surf boards and Annette Funicello, those pristine days when everyone was color-coordinated. Josie’s Uncle Jack owned nearly 30 cars that he had restored—a variety of vehicles from the Eliot Ness era up through the late fifties, like the one they were about to ride in now. He was by no means a rich man, but it was a serious pastime and source of great pleasure for him. He’d built a garage behind the house where he worked on them, and stored them as well. People called him from Hollywood when they wanted specific cars in their movies, especially the older cars. When she and Libby were kids, they’d played at being Bonnie and Clyde or other members of the Darrow gang, whoever else they thought up, running around in her uncle’s garage.
Now, together, they climbed into the Starmist blue car, and Libby drove them out to house where Josie was supposed to borrow a car and drive herself out to the Castle Ranch. Libby drove north from the airport through town, down the streets with the clean and dry night air on their faces. The empty lots they passed—the ones that weren’t taken over by convenience stores that seemed to have popped up everywhere—gave up sweet bursts of moisture and cooler air. Libby’s big hands were wrapped around the steering wheel, comfortable and sure. The street lamps created a moving spotlight on them. With her arm hanging over the door, Josie sighed contentedly. No matter how far away she went, no matter how long she stayed away, she always felt like this when she came back.
“Everything says ‘50’ on it—all the streamers and the cake and the balloons—so the party is going to be really great,” Libby was saying. “We’re going to have streamers and tons of food. We got those candles that you put into paper bags with the sand in the bottom. And we got five piñatas. Everyone we know is going to be here—now that I know you’re coming, I can say that.”
“Everyone” Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jack knew meant a good cross-section of the Tucson population. Their extended family consisted of Libby’s former school teachers, car mechanics who had worked with them over the years, bank tellers who stayed at the local branches even though the banks’ names changed, favorite waiters, grocery store managers—they’d known them first as after-school baggers and now they knew their kids. Second-generation baggers, some of them. The ties ran pretty deep.
Libby went on, “Mom says you’re going to be real busy for the few days you’re here, so you don’t have to help us with anything. You just get to show up and be one of the gu
ests. Where are you going anyway?”
“Puerta,” Josie told her. She couldn’t help but smile at her cousin. Libby’s toothy grin was infectious. And being in the company of that was worth any amount of stuffy intellect any day. Josie was still feeling a little out-classed, the sting of insult from Michael Williams and his highbrow comments momentarily coming back to her. Give it a rest, she told herself. That was over a week ago now. She set aside the feeling, but she knew it was still there. Brother of a suspected killer, she reminded herself with a suppressed shiver. And his opinion didn’t matter.
#
Libby was fiddling and sighing, tapping her large fingertips on the steering wheel. She looked at Josie and looked away. Then, looked back at her again.
“What’s your news?” Josie asked her.
“Hm? Me?” Libby said.
“I know you have something to tell me. What’s going on? Spill it.”
“Oh, nothing, you know, it’s just that I’ve been out to Puerta once or twice. I was seeing someone out there—having sex and stuff. That’s where I had sex for the first time. Just a little while ago.” She said it with studied nonchalance, trying subtly to eye Josie from the side. Josie gaped at her, and Libby shrugged. “It wasn’t any big deal. I don’t see what the big deal is. And I did everything you’re supposed to do.”
Josie, although she was ashamed to admit it, was slightly nauseated. “What do you mean by everything?” Depending on what Libby had found for a textbook, everything could have been illegal in some states.
“Duh. I mean I made him wear a condom.” Libby shrugged again. “No big deal. And Mom knows, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Maybe,” Josie said.
“‘Maybe’ means yes this time,” Libby crowed.
Josie stared at the sky and ran a hand through her hair. More things than she knew had changed since she last came out here. “So, does this mean that you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” Libby said rolling her eyes. “I decided that I didn’t like him after all. Why do guys think they’re smarter than me? He was always telling me what to do. Thought he was some kind of Mr. Brainiac even though he didn’t even know how to change the oil in his car. Or that a battery lasts only about three years out here in this hot weather. Because in hot climates, the main reasons for battery failure are positive grid growth or grid metal corrosion in the electrolyte, negative grid shrinkage, buckling of plates, and loss of water. What a dummy. After a while, that gets real old, you know.”
“Tell me about it,” Josie said marveling at her cousin savant. Like, duh, everyone knew those things. Whatever they were. “I keep running into guys like that myself—the ones who are so full of themselves. Must be a whole lot of them out there. How’d you find this one?”
“I met him because I worked on his car. Johnny down at the garage—you remember Johnny, right? I thought I liked him a lot, like I wanted him to be my boyfriend, but sometimes, he’s just so dumb. But anyway—Johnny calls me up and says hey, there’s this guy out in Puerta. His car’s broke down and he needs someone to go fix it for him.” She turned to Josie. “Like he was too poor to call a tow truck or something. He needs someone to go out to his place where his car is busted and fix it there.” She shrugged, and then, got back to her story. “So, I go out to his house to fix the car, and it’s just sitting in his garage, like he never even tried to get it out on the road or something. And the hood’s not even up. I don’t think he even tried to see what was wrong with it. So, I get the hood cranked open, and first off, I can tell right away that the battery is dead. I had a feeling that might be the problem, so I picked up a battery from Johnny on the way out there because Johnny already knew the kind of car it was. So the guy starts talking to me while I’m changing out the battery and I’m kind of listening to him, but mostly it’s like yeah, yeah whatever. You know.” She made a rapid chatter gesture with her fingers.
“So anyway,” she went on, “He goes on talking for a while. And then I realize he’s been talking about me. Like how red my hair is and how tall I am and how I can lift car stuff all by myself. So, then we kiss and stuff. And we did it right there in the garage.”
“Okaaay,” Josie said, cutting her off. Please, God, no more details, she thought. Her imagination was already painting lurid images of her cousin spread-eagle and going at it with some country bumpkin half-wit on the hood of a beat-up ‘88 Grand Marquis.
Libby shrugged. “So after that, I went back to working on his car. It wasn’t any major problem. Just a dead battery, really. Kind of lame, if you ask me. But after I fixed it, I went back home and I haven’t seen him since. I guess he just stays at his house all the time. We haven’t gone out on a date or anything. But I’m not really looking for a relationship at this point in my life.” She was talking girl-talk, Josie recognized, as if she’d entered the post-virginal club of womanhood.
“You sound like those books your mom makes fun of,” Josie told her. “You know—’How I Messed Up My Life in 12 Easy Steps’ or ‘How to Dump Mr. Wrong’.”
“Tyra Banks on the re-run channel,” she agreed. “He called me for a while, but he didn’t have any more cars to fix, so I never went out back. Boring, if you know what I mean.”
Truly, Josie thought, the man who failed to entertain Libby must have been boring to the verge of death. Missing more than a few I.Q. points, or possibly a weirdo who had been vaguely entertained by a woman fixing his car.
“So do you have a boyfriend?” Libby asked. “What about that doctor guy Drew?”
Josie groaned inwardly. Chances were, if Libby remembered Drew, it was because Aunt Ruth remembered him. “He’s a friend.”
“And he’s a boy,” Libby said smiling what she always thought was her sneaky smile. “You should probably think up an answer that doesn’t sound like you’re fibbing because you know that Mom is going to ask you the same question.”
“Ouch. But I guess you’re right,” said Josie.
“Anyways, the truth hurts sometimes,” she said.
“Oh great,” Josie ragged on her, “Where did you learn that one?”
Libby shrugged. “It just came to me once. Stuff does that.”
Josie pondered her cousin the rest of the ride home. Libby took them down that old unpaved road, kicking up gravel behind them. She drove slowly with the patience and comfort of someone who drives the same road every day. When they pulled up to the house in a wide, dusty swing, Libby bolted out of the car into the house to announce Josie’s arrival. Like an Irish Setter, Josie thought, a hundred and eighty-pound Irish Setter. She followed her cousin through the garage and the kitchen door.
#
God, it was good to see Aunt Ruth standing there in her kitchen, the same as it always had been. Gold linoleum. Lines on the doorframe that marked Libby’s growth spurts that went way over both of their heads. Aunt Ruth completed Josie’s homecoming. Her aunt didn’t have Josie’s father’s height but definitely all of his brashness and then some. And she was sensible and strong like him. She still had dark brown hair that she wore in a bun. Her mouth had hundreds of tiny smoker’s creases in it even though she had given up smoking over fifteen years ago.
“Hey you, Josie-girl.”
“Aunt Ruth. Thanks for waiting up for me. I know it’s late.”
“Eh,” she said. “I’ll sleep enough when I’m dead. Come here and hug your old aunt.” When Josie hugged her, she said, “Watch out, girl, you’re going to squeeze my colostomy bag right off.” But when Josie tried to pull away, her aunt gave her a final squeeze. She poked a finger at Josie’s ribs. “Speaking of which, how’s your stomach? You still got the shits? You’re as skinny as a damn rail.”
“Not so good. Off and on,” Josie admitted. How well would her aunt’s language go over in an upscale restaurant in the city, say, in the Suisse Chalet where women her aunt’s age were more likely to be wearing Chanel and Peter Pan collars on their floral dresses? Course, they’d probably think she was just some eccentric
millionaire and they’d put up with it. Well, they’d have half of it right, Josie figured. She could just imagine her aunt asking for some “goddamn ketchup” and had to suppress a grin.
“Better off than on,” her aunt said. “It’s probably nerves. If you can get out here and relax for once in your life, maybe it’ll calm down. Damn city life.” While her words were strong, the creases in her forehead revealed her concern. “Hey Lib,” she said, “Since Josie has to hit the road, why don’t you go bring the Accord out front?” Libby nodded and got up.
“Don’t mean to insult you with the Honda,” Aunt Ruth said. “But the damn thing has great gas mileage. No getting around it. Darn Japanese cars. You know how your Uncle Jack hates them. He turns red every time he sees it.”
“It’s fine by me. I’m glad to use it. Just sorry I can’t stay here with you at the house.”
Aunt Ruth snorted. “The hell with that. It’s going to be a mess here with Libby decorating. She’s got about a thousand luminarias to put together. She’s stringing up lights all the hell over the place. Jack’s bringing in caterers. Plus you’re going up to Puerta to get pampered—or you were supposed to. Which reminds me, just what in sweet Lucifer’s hell are you thinking, going out there to investigate that poor girl’s murder? We all know the son of a bitch did it.” Small town, big gossip.
“Little do you know what a bitch his mother is,” Josie said.
“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” Josie said.
“Why you, kiddo?” she asked, suddenly wrinkling her forehead. “You know you’re not going to bring back your mom to the land of the living. Him either.” Leave it to Aunt Ruth to cut to the heart of it. She was staring at the thick silver ring on Josie’s thumb, probably thinking that it was Josie’s father’s wedding band. She’d taken to wearing the ring after his funeral. In truth, this ring looked a lot like the original, but it was not the same ring. In any case, they both knew who she was talking about.