by Debby Mayne
At least this time we have a sheriff’s deputy, thanks to Priscilla and that Didi girl footing the bill. Pete won’t be able to pull one of his typical shenanigans. Not that getting drunk and wrapping your truck around a tree isn’t serious, ’cause it is. But Pete seems to think it’s normal, and he still hasn’t learned his lesson.
I pull my company Buick into the parking lot of the VFW hall, and who do you think I see? Pete’s standing beside his truck, swigging from a can. I groan until I realize it’s a sody pop. Good for him.
It’s been drizzling off and on all day. The weatherman can’t seem to make up his mind when it’s gonna stop, so it’s a good thing we had an alternate plan. As soon as I park and get out, Pete ambles toward me.
“Hey there, Tim. I got the karaoke equipment in the truck. Wanna give me a hand with it?”
He loads me up with stuff, leaving a small shoebox filled with CDs for him to carry in. I don’t say nothin’ since he’s a ticking bomb, and I’m not in the mood for a black eye, no matter how manly it makes me look.
“Just set that stuff over there.” Pete points to a long foldout table by a small stage. “We’ll get some of the guys to help later.”
“It’s just a karaoke machine. We can do it now since we’re right here.”
He turns the can upside down over his mouth, finishes it off, crumples it in one hand, and tips his head forward. “Then by all means, go right ahead. I’m not stoppin’ ya.”
As I set up the karaoke machine, which involves pulling it out of the box and attaching the extra speakers and microphone, he talks on his cell phone. “Where can I plug this in?”
Pete punches a button on his cell phone before slipping it into his pocket. “What do I look like? an electrician?” I just happen to know Pete ain’t stupid, so this is his way of asserting himself.
I walk around the perimeter of the hall until I see an electrical outlet. Off to the side is a box filled with an assortment of extension cords. I rummage through the box ’til I find one that looks like it’ll reach the karaoke machine.
The whole time I’m working, Pete stands around looking like he’s itching to be somewhere else. That makes me want to crawl, just to get his goat. But I don’t. I have more things on my list, and I’ve never been one to let things slide.
Once the karaoke machine is all set up, I test it to make sure it works. And boy, does it ever. I snort when Pete jumps near ’bout outta his drawers at the sound of my voice booming through the hall. “Why’d ya go and do that?”
I grin right back at him. “Just testin’ the equipment. Sounds like it works just fine.”
“Let’s get outta here before the women come to decorate.”
“Why?” I ask. “Afraid your wife might put you to work?”
His nostrils grow big, and I have the weirdest feeling in my belly that he’s about to charge like a bull, but he don’t. “Naw, it’s not the work that bugs me. I just don’t wanna have to deal with that girly streamer stuff my wife likes so much.”
I laugh. A mental picture of Pete taping sparkly streamers to the ceiling is hilarious. “She did put up a lot of stuff like that at the last reunion, didn’t she? But that was for the big party. I don’t reckon she’ll do that tonight, since this is supposed to be a bonfire.”
“You obviously don’t know my wife very well. You done?”
I take a long look around at the naked walls and cheap-tile floor. “Yeah, I reckon I am.”
“Good.” He struts to the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”
I’m happy to see Pete turn in the direction of his house. Maybe he won’t stop off anywhere for a drink before the party. Even though Laura can be a bear to deal with, I feel sorry for her having to handle four rebellious kids and a husband who most likely will never grow up.
After checking off the next few items on my list, a sense of accomplishment comes over me. Years ago, right after I started working for my uncle, I called on Priscilla when she was still working on the floor as a hairdresser. That woman has always been able to do more in a day than most people do in a week, so I asked what her secret was. She told me she kept lists—a master list for the month, a weekly list, and a daily list with every single thing she needed to do that day. It took me a while to remember and get the hang of the list thing, but once I did, I discovered how much more I could do. And when I go to bed at night, I feel real good about myself for doing so much everyday and crossing through each thing. Used to, I’d stare up at the ceiling worrying about stuff and wondering where all the time went. Uncle Hugh noticed how much more I was selling, and he gave me a raise. Now I don’t go nowhere without a list, and I keep doing better and better in business. That’s what I call job security.
I get everything done and head on back to my hotel room. More hotels have opened since the last reunion, and I picked me out a real nice one with a workout room and a breakfast bar with all kinds of fancy muffins and pastries laid out every mornin’.
Priscilla hasn’t called me yet, and I ponder what to do. We need to talk to make arrangements for tonight, so I go ahead and punch in her number, and she answers right away.
“Hey, Tim. I just pulled my phone out of my bag, and I was about to call you. Looks like we’re not having the bonfire tonight. Good thing we had an alternate plan.”
“I know. Did you talk to Pete or Laura?”
I hear her take a breath, almost like she’s expecting something bad to happen. “No, why?”
“Me and . . . I mean, Pete and I set up the VFW hall for karaoke.”
She laughs. “As long as I’ve known you, I don’t think I remember ever hearing you sing.”
“And you’re still not likely to.”
“Come on, Tim. It’s karaoke. No one expects you to sound like a rock star.”
“Oh, trust me when I tell you that’s not what I’m worried about. Folks will think someone’s been hurt if I start tryin’ to sing. Mama always said I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
I love the sound of her laughter. “So what’s the final count on the reunion?”
This is when I have to break the news. “Not as many as Laura expected. She kept sayin’ there was gonna be at least sixty folks, but now it looks like we’ll have closer to forty, includin’ the guests. Maybe not even that many.”
“That’s too bad, but I suspect more people come to the ten-year and twenty-year reunions than the ones in the middle.”
“That’s what Laura said.” I glance at my watch. “Hey, I better finish so I can shower and shave. Can you be ready in an hour or so?”
“Of course. Would you like me to drive?”
“Nah, I’ll come get you, and I’ll drive.”
After we get off the phone, I hurry with my shower, shaving, and hair combing. Then I’m on my way over to pick up the girl I used to hope I’d be married to by now. Although I know that’s not likely to ever happen, I still pretend she’s mine. Uncle Hugh used to encourage me to keep after her, but lately even he’s been telling me it’s time to move on.
I knock on the door of her parents’ house, and her daddy answers, surprising me since I thought he’d moved out. “Hey there, Mr. Slater. I came to get Priscilla.”
He steps back and motions me inside before hollering. “Priscilla, your fella’s here.”
I barely blink my eyes when she appears from around the corner, looking more dazzling than a bunch of diamonds in the snow. Her hair frames her smooth, creamy face, and she looks slammin’ hot in a pair of jeans with colorful stones running down the outsides of both legs. I look at her feet and see that she’s rockin’ a pair of sandals with her hot-pink polished toes peeking out. This is all stuff I wouldn’t have noticed before I got into the beauty business. All I woulda seen is how good she looked. Now I know how all the parts work.
“Hi there, Tim. You’re right on time.” She reaches up and gives her daddy a big hug as I stand there with my chin hanging practically to the floor.
28
Priscilla
“So I wonder if everyone who’s going to the reunion tomorrow night will be there tonight,” I say, trying to break the silence and make conversation. “Do you know if anyone called people to tell them we’ve moved indoors?”
Tim shrugs but keeps his eyes on the road. “Laura and Celeste were supposed to do that, but with them, ya never know.”
“I’m sure they did if they said they would.” I look around as we pass all the familiar places I grew up around. Even when I was a child, I knew I’d eventually leave Piney Point, but it would always be home.
“So did you have a good day?” he asks. “I hear you were busy at the salon.”
“Yes, I worked until closing. People were still calling to get appointments for tomorrow.” This conversation is starting to feel awkward and stilted, but I don’t know what to do about it.
“I know how you hate to say no to people who need you,” he says.
“You’re one to talk. But I did say no to the last few. My final appointment is at four, and that’s just for a cut and blow dry.”
“Can’t blame folks for wantin’ to look good at the reunion. But with just a few people comin’ to the reunion, I wouldn’t think you’d be all that busy.”
“It’s not just reunion people. Other women have been holding out on getting their hair done when they heard I was going to be in town.” I decide this is as good a time as any to tell him the news since word’s already out. “I heard from TVNS. They want to see me next week. Looks like there’s a chance I’ll be sellin’ my hair care package on air very soon.”
Tim pulls up to a light and turns toward me, his face beaming with pure joy. This man is so good to me. I don’t know anyone else who is as sincerely happy about my success as he is. “That’s great news, Priscilla.”
“Oh, that’s not all. Remember that guy who sold me his salons in North Carolina?”
“Yeah, the one who wanted to concentrate all his time in New York City, right?”
I nod. “He’s going through a divorce, and his wife insists on splitting everything right down the middle. She’s put her half of the New York salons on the market, and I’m thinking about buying them.”
This time his face registers surprise. “You’ve always wanted some places in New York.” He sighs. “Must be nice to have all your dreams come true.”
“It’s very nice, but there’s one thing I don’t know how to handle.”
“I can’t imagine anything you can’t handle, Priscilla. You’re an amazing woman.”
“Maybe so to you, but tell my parents that. They think I’ve gone off the deep end.” I flinch. “I think they’re even talking about having me committed to Whitfield.”
He laughs. “Now I know you’re kiddin’.”
I’m not so sure. “At any rate, they’ve been talking again over”—I do air quotes with my fingers—“their concern about me.”
“Whatever it takes to make them get on the same team,” Tim says. “So tell me all about your plans to visit TVNS.” He crinkles his forehead. “Hey, they’re in New York, right? You can kill two birds while you’re there.”
“That’s what I was thinking. I’m trying hard not to get my hopes up about either venture. The salons might not be as nice as I’ve imagined, and from what I understand, the TVNS spot isn’t a done deal until they run a video test on me and the contract is signed.” I pause. “Besides, I’m one of three they’re looking at.”
“You’ll do it, Priscilla. I’ve never doubted for one second your ability to get everything on your bucket list.” He pulls into the VFW hall parking lot but doesn’t make a move to get out of the car, so I lean back and fold my arms.
“So do you have a bucket list?” I ask after a few seconds of silence.
“I did, but I’m not sure what I did with it.” He winks and before I have a chance to say anything else, he opens the door and hops out of the car.
On our way into the hall, I hear a loud, screeching voice with tinny background music over the speaker. I nudge Tim and laugh. “Sounds like the party started without us.”
Laura greets us at the door. “Y’all finally made it. What took you so long?”
“Um . . . ” Tim looks at me.
“I had to work. We came as soon as we could. Do you need me to do anything?”
Laura gestures around the room. “I think Celeste and I about have everything done, but we sure could’ve used you to help hang the streamers.”
I look up at the ceiling and see about a dozen strands of scrawny looking silver and blue streamers waving in the breeze coming from the air-conditioning vent. “You and Celeste did this all by yourselves?” It’s about the tackiest looking decoration I’ve ever seen, but I’m not about to hint that it isn’t beautiful, or there’s no telling what Laura might do. I’ve seen her in her pre-snit mood, and I know she’s heading there now.
“Pete wanted to put the keg by the stage, but I made him move it to the back.” She points over to the corner where half a dozen guys are standing, plastic cups in hand. “I told him he better stop before he gets wasted this time. I’m not puttin’ up with any of his . . . his you-know-what.”
Tim laughs. “Maybe I can help you out here. Let’s see if we can get Pete singin’ karaoke. I figure as long as he’s usin’ his mouth to sing, he won’t be chuggin’ beer.”
Laura shrugs. “I doubt it’ll do much good, but you can give it a try.”
“Why don’t you go talk to Pete while I—”
Laura grabs me by the arm and tightens her grip. “Don’t look now, but guess who just walked in.”
With that kind of reaction, I have to turn around. It’s Didi Holcomb—Doctor Didi Holcomb—and Maurice Haverty. I feel the blood drain from my face.
Celeste walks up and leans into me. “Don’t they look happy? I never would have imagined Maurice Haverty and Didi Holcomb together, but they’re such a cute couple, aren’t they?”
“Yes, very cute,” I say.
“Did you see that rock on her hand?” Celeste holds up her hand and wiggles her fingers in front of her face. “I wondered how Maurice came up with the money to buy that thing, what with his business strugglin’ so lately. I asked Mama, and she said the ring is Didi’s family heirloom.”
“The ring was Didi’s?” The instant I say that, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. Last thing I need is anyone thinking I have even a smidge of interest in what happens between Didi and Maurice.
“Yep. And Maurice insisted on havin’ it appraised. You know how Mama is friends with Ruby over at Olson’s Jewelers. Ruby told Mama that ring is so valuable it can’t be duplicated.”
I bet Maurice is happy about that, but I don’t say it. Instead, I nod and pretend to be only slightly interested. “I hope they’re very happy together.”
Celeste lifts one of her carefully manicured eyebrows. “Do you? I mean, doesn’t it suck at least a little that he dumped you after that last reunion.”
I pull back. “Dumped me?”
“Yeah.” A look of pity flashes across Celeste’s face. “Maurice told Didi, and she told some people at the doctor’s office all about how you thought he was comin’ on to you, when he was just tryin’ to be friendly.”
“Is that what he said?” My pride is coming on strong, and I want to stand on a table and holler out what really happened. But I take a deep breath and force myself to act calm.
“I don’t think he was sayin’ it in a mean way or nothin’. It’s just that Didi don’t want to upset you. You know how she is—always tryin’ to keep the peace and make sure everyone is happy and feelin’ good.”
Yes, I do know how Didi is—as jealous as she is intelligent. But again, I keep my thoughts to myself.
“At any rate, Maurice is head-over-heels in love with the girl, and who can blame him?” Celeste sighs. “She’s a successful doctor in Hattiesburg, and she bo
ught a house in the nicest area.”
“That’s wonderful, Celeste.” I’ve heard about all I can stand for now. “I need to run and make sure Tim is okay. He’s helping out way more than he should, considering how this isn’t even his class.”
Jimmy walks up. “Either of you want a soda or beer?”
“I’ll get my own, thanks.” I leave Celeste and Jimmy.
Before I’m out of earshot, I hear Jimmy. “Did I say somethin’ wrong?”
“Nah, she’s just jealous about Maurice and Didi.” In spite of better judgment, I slow down to hear the rest of what Celeste has to say. “That had to be rough, seein’ the two of ’em walkin’ in here tonight lookin’ all dreamy-eyed at each other.”
Now I want to run, but I don’t, or people would really think I have an issue with Maurice and Didi. Deep down, I can’t help wondering if he really feels something for her besides lust for her money. Didi has always wanted whatever I had, and now that she’s with Maurice, she probably feels like the tables have turned. Everyone in the school knew about my crush on him and how hurt I was that he didn’t have feelings for me. I’m sure Didi assumes she’s scored a victory in this competition.
The sound of Pete’s voice as he sings “Puff the Magic Dragon” echoes throughout the hall. He really gets into the performance, strutting around the small stage, leaning toward the crowd, and wiggling his eyebrows when he sings about frolicking in the autumn mist.
Tim walks up beside me. “He’s actually not a terrible singer.”
“I’m sure he’s even better when he’s not drinking.” I smile and lean closer to Tim. “Thank you for helping out all week. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”
He smiles. “My pleasure. I have to admit I feel a lot closer to some of your classmates than I do my own.”