Until Merri: Happily Ever Alpha World

by Suzanne Halliday

  There. That should do it. As she muttered an impromptu prayer, her fingers shook when she turned the key in the ignition.

  Nothing.

  “Goddammit.”

  After pulling the hood release and with more strength than she should have after five hours of waitressing tables, Merri yanked on the handle and kicked the door to swing it open. Mumbling swear words, she swiveled, stomped her sneakers on the pavement and hauled her tired butt off the driver’s seat. She stood and pushed the hem of her pink uniform down when it crept too high up her thighs.

  Her eyes swept the parking area behind the diner. It was sparsely lit and mostly empty now that the dinner rush was over. At least partially safety conscious, Merri scanned the lot. Not finding anybody lurking in any shadows, she went back to dealing with the bane of her existence.

  “MotherfuckingstupidgoddamnpieceofShumplerbullshit. This is what I get for …” Her voice died off.

  What she got for what? For pretending to give a shit about anyone other than Tom? Eek. Maybe she deserved the mechanic’s dream masquerading as a car.

  She opened the hood and surveyed the car’s engine. It was still there. Muttering dark thoughts about mechanical shit, she crossed her arms and waited for a thunderbolt of inspiration that did not seem to be heading her way.

  “Now what?”

  Her phone. She should grab her phone and call Tom. He sent a text before she left for the diner. Brad was being a dick about something work-related, which meant he wouldn’t make it in time for dinner. He said he had to stop by the bike shop but promised to swing by after.

  About to locate her purse and look for the phone, she remembered that she’d left it at home. The phone, not her purse.

  “Fuck my life.”

  Squinting at the sky, she cursed the month of November for getting dark earlier. Then, for no reason other than she could, Merri hauled off, swung her leg like Chuck Norris, and slammed her foot into the side of the car. The slight dent caused by her assaulting sneaker wasn’t big enough to make her feel better.

  Hands fisted at her side, she growled and hopped like a jumping bean. “Fuck you, Shumpler!” she railed at the night sky.

  Approaching laughter, female laughter, made Merri turn her head. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was just two of the diner’s regulars.

  “Whoa, woman,” an amused voice called out. “Car assault is punishable under state code. What’s the problem? Can we help?”

  She watched the approaching pair. Both gals she knew on sight. The one named JJ was sporting eggplant-colored hair with an emphasis on the purple hue. She wore a pair of awesome looking heels that caught Merri’s eye.

  The other, June, had a big smile and was carrying two containers in a drink holder from the diner.

  She liked June. There was an air about her. She gave off great energy plus she was a teacher. Working at Maplewood gave Merri a new appreciation for educators.

  They came to her assistance and, like her, stared blankly at the car’s engine.

  “It’s an engine,” June stated.

  “Yep,” JJ concurred, nodding her head. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It hates me,” Merri snarled.

  “Sounds like a bummer.” June snickered.

  Merri reached up for the edge of the hood and slammed it shut. Knowing how to do car stuff was not something in her wheelhouse.

  JJ asked, “What can we do? Did you call Triple A?”

  “Pfft. Not much help. It’s the end of the year, and I’ve maxed out my benefits. There are only so many tows and rescues one person with one massively annoying hunk of shit can get away with.”

  June looked at her. “Hmm. That guy who smiles at your ass, what’s his name? He your boyfriend? What about him? Can he help?”

  She found her laughter again with June’s words and made a goofy face. “His name is Tom, and as of”—she held up her wrist and pretended to check her watch—“approximately forty-eight hours ago, yes, he is. My boyfriend.”

  JJ chuckled. “You don’t sound so certain.”

  “We’re still doing the friendship dance.” She sighed. “But our first date is coming up, so squee!”

  “Did you call him?” June set the cup holder on the hood of the car and searched her pockets.

  “Uh, well, actually, my phone is currently at a different location.”

  June muttered, “Shit. I don’t have my phone either. JJ?”

  “I got you,” the purple-haired woman informed them. Showing them her phone, she started tapping on the screen. “I’ll call for a rescue. My man will know what to do.”

  As JJ made her calls, June looked back and forth between Merri and the dead as a doornail car.

  “You can’t wait here. Why don’t you come back to the house with JJ and me? We were gonna hang out and look at bridal magazines or something.”

  “How’s the wedding planning coming along?” she asked.

  “My mom’s doing all the work. I’ve got other things on my plate like a bunch of third graders and throwing up every morning.”

  JJ waved her phone. “Get your stuff, lady. You’re coming home with us. Make sure you have your keys, and my man will have somebody deal with the car.”

  “Aw, thanks you, guys. I’m fried, and my back hurts. Let me just grab my purse.”

  “I’ll get the bug and pull alongside.” June picked up the cup holder and handed it to JJ. “Back in a minute.”

  They piled into June’s awesome Beetle. Now this was the kind of car Merri wanted. It was past time to take this shit-tacular decision on the chin and bail out of the lemon car. Tonight sealed the deal. She didn’t want to muddy her and Tom’s change of status with lingering Shumpler issues. Maybe she should look for a small SUV. Something family-ish but not too grown-up.

  Intruding on June and JJ’s girls’ night at home didn’t slow anyone’s roll. As what happened so often when women got together and one of ’em was pissed off about a man, there was drinking. Just her and JJ. June facilitated by playing bartender.

  “I got it. I got it,” June jeered before smacking JJ’s hand away. “Cool your jets.” A hand rocking a pretty goddamn serious engagement ring reached across the pile of shit on the table and poured two tequila shots.

  Merri closed one eye in a bid to focus on the lime she was mangling. Putting a knife in her hands—even though it was dull and useless—was not the brightest of ideas.

  “Having trouble?” JJ snickered. One arched brow in need of waxing and a playful snort punctuated what the purple-haired troublemaker thought of Merri’s knife skills.

  Waving the dollar store knife for emphasis, Merri gave JJ a half-smirk, and said, “Can’t help but notice that you aren’t doing anything. Pouring salt does not qualify.”

  June laughed. “Yep, she has you there!”

  “Bitches,” JJ mumbled with a hearty chuckle.

  They had to fist bump every time one of them said bitches, so she dropped the knife and shot her fist forward. June cracked up laughing when JJ’s fist swung wildly and missed.

  “I’d say Merri is drunk enough to spill the refrieds, don’t you?” June asked JJ.

  Sawing the sad lime into sections, she scooped the mess onto a paper plate, licked her fingers and snorted. “Properly prepared refrieds would not spill,” she pointed out. “However, after this next shot, I’ll tell you two bitches anything you want.”

  JJ bawled with laughter, and this time when their three fists shot forward, they connected.

  “Drink, drink, drink,” June hooted. She waved the nearly kicked tequila bottle.

  Swaying slightly, Merri licked her hand and concentrated on sprinkling some salt into a pile. Her tongue scooped it up, and saliva flooded her mouth as she swallowed. Following up immediately with another shot of the cheap alcohol, she felt the tequila scorch all the way into her stomach. “Blech,” she groaned and shivered. “This shit is awful.” Biting into a lime wedge helped dull the afterburn.

  “Brew and the boys d
ecided to explore my tequila stash,” JJ drawled. She was way more sloshed than Merri—or maybe not. “They confiscated,” she said with air quotes, “what they said was expired. Left me nothing but hangover bait. Assholes.”

  June nodded, and said, “Uh-huh. Preach it, girlfriend.”

  Encouraged by the dime store tequila and her friends’ support, Merri slammed her hand on the table and let it fly.

  “Men are stupid. Like really stupid. Like so damn stupid I don’t know how they hang onto the ball.”

  JJ sniggered. “Honey, in this house, I hold the balls. My man wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Not those balls. Sheesh!” Merri shook her head—a dumb move—and rolled her eyes. “I mean the big ball. The one in play. You know …” She looked at June for help since she was the only one sober. “The football, the baseball, the Powerball—all about the men.”

  “Sure, sure.” June chuckled. “Makes a little bit of sense. Go on.”

  “Like who decided balls were important?”

  “I sense she’s wandering,” JJ told June. “Whadayathink? Another shot to clear the brain?”

  June poured again, and when she finished, Merri laughed.

  “Shit. You two are gonna get me in trouble.”

  “That’s what girlfriends are for,” JJ insisted before downing the shot. “Before you find another tangent, let me ask some questions.”

  “Ask about the car salesman,” June suggested.

  “Right, right. The salesman. Spill.”

  Merri sighed. “Bill Shumpler.”

  “Shumpler?” JJ wailed with laughter. “What the hell kind of name is that?”

  And then there was that, Merri thought with a hair flip and derisive sniff. “Yeah, right?” she drawled. “Almost ended up being Merri Shumpler.”

  “Wait, what?” June barked. “I thought you and Thomas Edison were a thing.”

  “Thomas Edison invented stuff. Tom Franklin is a communications … oh, never mind,” she huffed.

  JJ sat forward. When she spoke, either she slurred just a little bit or Merri’s ears were drunk. “Time-out. Tell me if I have any of this straight. So you’re swapping body fluids with the phone guy, but Shumpler sells you a lemon? I’m confused.”

  “Me too,” she drawled. “And there’s no fluid swapping going on. We’re friends,” she bit out. “Without benefits. Yet.”

  “Start at the beginning, Merri,” June encouraged. “We’ll piece it together as you go.”

  “The beginning? Well, shit. The beginning takes place in another century.”

  JJ whistled. “Wow. Now you’ve got my attention.”

  “Okay. Here goes. So I had a crush on an older guy—a friend of my big sister’s.”

  “Older guys can be fun,” JJ interjected.

  “Yes, well, my crush starts the summer I wasn’t quite twelve. Tom was eighteen. Even then, he was hot in a nerdy way. My sister Agie’s BFF, her name is Laurel, well, she and Tom did the boyfriend-girlfriend thing in high school. We had a backyard pool, and it was hot as balls, so our place was teenager central that summer.”

  “Ah, older siblings and a backyard pool scenario. Every preteen girl’s dream.” June found her comment funny and smacked her hands together.

  There was a universal truth in June’s comment. She wondered how many other little girls were like she was back then. A starry-eyed tween with a head full of romantic nonsense.

  She looked back and forth at her audience, and with a dry as sawdust smirky drawl, she added some context. “And it should be noted that this was the summer my best friend Cyndi and I watched a DVD of The Princess Bride over and over and over.”

  JJ laughed. “That damn movie!”

  “Right? Well, anyway, just keep it in mind. So it’s summer, it’s hot, and a bunch of high schoolers are in my backyard. Let’s just say I started scribbling Mrs. Tom Franklin everywhere.”

  “I think we’ve all kind of been there—one way or another,” June murmured. “The forbidden boy.”

  Merri nodded. Forbidden boys—another universal truth.

  “Fast forward to the end of summer. In September, Tom, Agie, Laurel, and their gang were the seniors. I was in the first year of middle school and feeling all grown up. The term started off great, and then the shit hit the fan.”

  “Do you mean 9/11 shit?” June asked quietly.

  “Yeah.” She motioned an explosion with her hands. “Boom. In one day, the whole world changed.”

  JJ reached for the bottle but didn’t bother pouring a shot. She simply chugged.

  “Instead of a college future, Tom went right from graduation to enlisting in the Army. He had skills they wanted, and you know how that goes. Sucked him into the Signal Corps. Communications stuff. Anyway, a year after that, he was in Afghanistan.” She made a face. “By then, I was a hormonal teenager.”

  “Still drawing hearts with Tom’s name?” June’s question hit the bull’s-eye.

  “Oh god, yes. The hot teenage boy was a soldier. Squee!”

  For a split second, her mind drifted back in time and recalled how handsome he looked in a uniform. “And then he goes and breaks my heart by getting married! I was sixteen, and by then, we were pen pals. Wait,” she muttered. “Did I slur that?”

  June swirled a straw in her sparkling water and laughed. “No problem. I speak fluent slur.” She winked. “You’re good.”

  “Okay, so blah, blah, blah. He’s married, and we’re pen pals. I graduate and do my college thing—as a matter of fact, that’s when I started waitressing at the diner. Starving coed.” She chuckled. “I did the usual stuff, but he was always in the background. A couple of years ago, right around the time I landed Maplewood School as my main account, I met this guy at a party, and we began dating. He was all right,” she admitted, “but is all right ever enough?”

  “The shumpler?” JJ asked. She snorted with tequila-infused amusement. JJ was fast becoming Merri’s new spirit animal. She liked her no fucks will be given attitude.

  “Gurl,” she drawled, “Y’all done coined a new smackdown term. The shumpler.”

  “Hey”—June smirked—“we all know what it’s like to get shumplered by a guy.”

  Three nodding heads and some heavy sighs summed up what they were thinking.

  JJ’s elbows hit the table with a whack. She dropped her chin into her fists and grinned. “I’m on needles and pins. Does the shumpler ring your bell or no?”

  “Definitely no. Eww. Um, no.” She leaned on the table and lowered her voice. “Have you ever been so stupid you can’t believe it later? Bitches, I do not friggin’ know what I was thinking.”

  June snapped her fingers. “C’mon, tequila heads, triple fists!”

  They fist bumped. JJ whispered, “You wanna hear stupid? Pfft. I contemplated becoming a nun.”

  Shrieks and hoots of laughter ensued. Another round of shots happened. Some horrible, inappropriate jokes made the laughter louder. At some point, JJ’s man, a bearded dude who looked at his wife as if she were dipped in gold, showed up. He asked what the fuck was going on.

  “Shh, shh, shh,” JJ slurred. “Is just getting good. My girl here got shumplered while her dream date was in the war. She’s gonna tell us what happened.” With a hand to her mouth, which in no way lessened the volume, she told Brew, “I think she’s banging the Signal Corps.”

  “All of ’em or just one?” he asked with a barking chuckle.

  June cut in. “Don’t worry. I’m sober as a judge.” She patted her tummy. “It’s just some drunk girl’s talk while we wait for the shop to call about Merri’s piece of shit car. I’ll keep an eye on things.”

  “Sorry to be a pain. It’s my shumpler car.” She snarled. “Damn thing is costing me an arm and at least a foot. I’m Merri, by the way.” She half stood and twinkled her fingers instead of offering her hand.

  “You’re that waitress from the diner.”

  “Yep, that’s me.” She waved at June. “Ya wanna fill in the blanks
for him?”

  Merri put her head in her hands and listened to June’s quick explanation. At the mention of the damn car, red anger shot into her brain and nearly wiped out her buzz. This year alone, she’d forked out two grand for repairs. The piece of shit was cursed or something. As much as she hated to admit it, if she didn’t cut her losses, things would just continue to get worse. Today’s shitshow had to be the last straw. It got dark way early now, so car problems in a parking lot after the sun went down were a safety violation of the highest order.

  “Oh, I get it. So Signal Corps is what you’re calling that Franklin dude. I know him. Nice bike. And he did a satellite hookup for this guy we deal with who ships worldwide. Genius level stuff.”

  June put her arm around Merri and dragged her back into the conversation. “I don’t know about these two, but I need pizza. Pepperoni with extra cheese.”

  Brew chuckled. He waved his phone. “I’ll tell Evan to get his ass home and come with a bunch of pizza. You girls need anything else?”

  “Nah, we’re good,” JJ answered. She cocked her head to the side and regarded her guy. Merri knew that look—it was how she looked at Tom when he wouldn’t notice.

  June shooed Brew away and knocked on the wood table. “Okay. Settle down. Back to the story. Tom is doing war stuff, and you’re doing whatever it was that you were doing with the shumpler. Then what?”

  “Have I mentioned the part about Tom’s wife being a major C word?” She bobbed her head and widened her eyes to make the point. “I’m serious. She’s besties with my sister, so I heard all kinds of stuff that wasn’t for public knowledge.”

  “Did she cheat on him? I hate cheaters.” JJ snarled. “There’s a special room in hell for cheaters.”

  “Well,” she smugly pointed out, “they were married nine years, and he was in the Army the whole time. What do you think?”

  “So they get divorced?” June asked, and Merri nodded. “And were you guys still, uh, what did you call it? Pen pals?”

  She pushed her hair behind her ears and folded her hands on the table.