Moms Night Out (13 page)

“You need to wait here,” the hostess said with an arch of her brow.

Bridget squared back her shoulders. “Are you kidding me? Move!” One punch . . . that’s all it would take to have this woman sprawling.

“Oh, I will not move.” The hostess smirked and looked down her nose at Bridget as if she was some pest who needed to be squashed out. She laughed under her breath, as if Bridget just made the most ridiculous demand she’d ever heard.

Bridget’s fists balled up, but a voice broke through.

“Uh, yes you will.” It was Allyson. Bridget looked over her shoulder to her, not realizing she had followed. “Or so help me . . .” Allyson cocked out her hip . . . “I’m going to take this aura in here” . . . she circled her finger, as if encompassing the room. “And murder it.” She pointed to the ground with emphasis, as a warning.

Bridget’s jaw drop. She’d expected Ally to tell her to have good sense—to calm down—but not this.

Behind Allyson, Izzy and Sondra rushed in, like Clint Eastwood rushing into a bar fight. The shocked looks on their faces as they heard Allyson’s words were priceless. They scurried back toward the bench by the front door, trying to hide themselves from the fists that were about to fly.

The hostess gasped. She pushed out her lips and glanced from Bridget to Ally. “You’re kidding me.”

“No.” Ally’s stance—her words—were unmoving.

Bridget didn’t expect the hostess to back down, but she did.

“Whatever.” The hostess threw up her hands and walked back to her computer. “My mistake.”

Gasps arose from behind them, and Sondra and Izzy sat by the front door.

That was all the permission that Bridget needed. She stormed into the room filled with fancy tables, yummy smells, and startled diners . . . with Allyson right behind her.

***

Sean took his keys from his pocket and opened the door of the minivan. Even though he’d cleaned it out earlier it still smelled like French fries and chocolate milk. He’d told Allyson more than once that they should stop letting their kids eat in the car, but she said it wasn’t practical. Between story time at the library, soccer practice for Brandon, and Awana nights at church, there were just some meals that needed to be eaten as they went.

He slipped the keys back into his pocket and was glad again that she’d get this break. Allyson just worked too hard and never got a break. He looked over at the restaurant and smiled, thankful she was able to relax for once.

Marco approached hurriedly and handed Sean the birdcage. “Here’s the bird.”

Sean adjusted his arm in the sling. “The bird?” He blinked slowly not believing this.

“You gotta take the bird.” Marco thrust the cage to him. “There’s no way the boys are going to get into the car without the bird.” He tilted his head to the side, in a plea. “Just take the bird.”

Reluctantly, Sean took the cage from Marco. It swayed in his hand.

Kevin stomped over. He held Bailey under his arms and carried her out in front of him as if he carried a sack of potatoes. She hung there and swayed, as if she was a rag doll. At least she didn’t make a peep. Maybe she knew that with Kevin it didn’t make a difference.

“Where’s the car seat?” Sean asked.

“What?” Kevin looked at him with uncertainty.

“Everybody knows you need a car seat,” Marco piped in.

Kevin didn’t say a word, but he winced.

Sean pointed back to Kevin’s car. “You’ve got to get the car seat, that’s the whole point.”

Kevin winced and then turned and walked away, still holding Bailey out in front of him.

“What am I going to do with a bird?” Sean lifted up the cage and peered at the small parakeet inside. He/she looked innocent enough.

Sean put the birdcage in the passenger’s seat. The night wasn’t turning out like he planned, but he still had everything under control. They still were getting things taken care of. He had a new plan. Sean always liked to have a plan.

They’d pull out the van, and they’d park Marco’s car in the same spot. Marco assured him that Izzy had the keys. Then, he’d head to the hospital in Kevin’s car, and Marco and Kevin would take the van and watch the kids at Sean’s house. Sean shut the driver’s side door. His hands gripped the steering wheel, trying to hold back his fears.

He was sure—pretty sure—that his friends could handle the kids. The women wouldn’t take that much longer for dinner, would they?

Sean started the van and put it in reverse. He started backing out slowly, but then the radio blared Elmo’s voice: A B C D E F G! Sean jumped and his foot hit the gas, toppling the birdcage to the floorboard. Slamming on the brakes, the van stopped right in the middle of the road. The slightest fluttering and sound of birds’ wings brushed past him. He turned off the van to stop the music, and Mama landed on the top edge of the opened window. Then, before he could react, the bird lighted and flew out of the window.

“No!” Sean gasped, reaching his hand after it, but it was too late. He opened the door and jumped from the car.

Marco’s voice cried out, and the tall, big-boned man jumped from the car and ran to Sean’s side. “Sean, tell me that was not my bird! Tell me that was not my bird that just flew out of the window.”

Sean tried to explain, but just as he opened his mouth another car—a small black sports car—zipped into the empty space where the van once sat. Sean stood there with his mouth open. He’d just pulled out. It was clear they were going to use that spot.

A man in a black suit and white shirt climbed out of the car. He looked like one of the male models on the magazines at the checkout stand, and he strode with the swagger of James Bond.

“Hey! Hey!” Sean called out to him.

The man didn’t flinch. He didn’t break his stride. He just continued forward, looking ahead to the restaurant. Finally, he glanced over to them, and gave them a passing glance as if they were trees rooted there in the middle of the road, not people. He reached his hand back and clicked the lock on the key fob in his hand. The lights flashed on the sports car and it made a beeping sound, letting him know it was locked up.

Watching him, Sean suddenly felt defeated. He’d lost his parking spot, yes but he’d lost much more . . . his pride. The man just disrespected them, and he hadn’t stepped forward to do a thing about it.

Kevin rushed forward with Bailey on one arm and the car seat in the other hand.

“Hey, that’s our parking spot!” Bailey shouted.

“It’s all under control.” Sean held up his hands, not wanting to get into it now. The last thing he needed was to follow that man into the restaurant and disturb Allyson’s night. “We’ll just park down the road. I’ll leave another message so they know where it is.”

“Leave a message? Leave a message?” Kevin’s voice rose with emotion. The vein in his right temple bulged to the beat of his heart. Boom. Boom. Boom. It had always done that when Kevin was angry, upset, or otherwise intense, like when he came in contact with a surprise zombie horde in his game.

Desperation was clearly on Kevin’s face. He didn’t understand why everyone had to get so worked up . . . about everything. When one was a dad, he had to learn to go with the flow. Things weren’t usually as big of crisis as one tried to make them up to be. Kids were resilient. Drama happened on a daily basis. You could either deal with it, or crumble under the weight of responsibility.

“Just go in and talk to them,” Kevin spouted.

Sean leaned forward and pointed to the restaurant. He shook his head. “No! I’m not going in there.”

“You’ve got to go in there.” Kevin clung to Bailey as if she was a teddy bear, saving him from this nightmare he was in. “This night will never end . . .” His words gushed out. “That’s why you’ve got to go in there.”

Sean waved his hand to the restaurant. “I said. I promised. I vowed.” He emphasized each word with a jab of his hands. “And then . . . then I’m just going to walk in?”

Kevin’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows nearly touched his hairline.

Sean waved a hand to the restaurant and lowered his voice. “I’m not going in there. It’s a matter of principle. Okay?”

Marco gasped. He looked to the sky and blinked slowly twice, as if he too was in the middle of a bad dream and he didn’t know how to wake up.

Sean pressed his fingertips to his forehead, trying to formulate the plan. “Okay, we’ll leave Marco’s car down there for the girls, you guys take the van and kids to my house and . . . Gosh, this is confusing. Marco, park your car in that open spot. The girls will find it. Kevin, give me your keys.”

Marco looked as if he was going to cry. The craziness disappeared from Kevin’s face and he shrugged. That’s one reason why they’d remained friends so long Sean guessed. Kevin escalated quickly, but he calmed easily. Sean knew that Kevin would go along with him . . . and Marco would go too, mostly because being left alone with his kids was as frightening to him as facing a group of angry luchadores or a biker gang.

“I have to get back to the hospital and check on Beck,” Sean said slowing, trying not to overwhelm them.

“Beck’s fine.” Marco and Kevin said in unison.

“Did you hear the fire guy?” Sean’s voice rose an octave. “It’s policy.” He circled his hand in the air. “Now make the transition.”

Marco’s face scrunched up again, reminding Sean of the face that Beck made when he was hiding, trying to fill his diaper. “But what about my bird?”

“I have an idea.” Kevin pointed to Marco. “I saw this on
Animal Planet
once.” He held his arm out even with his shoulder, like all those guys did on the bird training shows. His fist was balled up. “They come back,” Kevin said.

Sean smirked, and then he realized Kevin was serious.

Marco eyed Kevin, and then did the same. “This?” He held out his arm, fist balled up.

Kevin hurried the direction they’d seen his bird fly. “Mama!”

Sean’s lip curled up. He looked to Kevin in disbelief. “It’s not a falcon.”

***

Sondra sat by the front door of Chez Magique wondering how this had happened. For the five years since they’d started pastor-ing this church, she’d done so well at running things. On keeping things in order. On maintaining control. On presenting a good image, but now it was all crumbling.

She couldn’t get Mattie Mae Lloyd’s startled expression off her mind when she’d seen her holding those beer bottles. How could that have happened? Out of all the moments for the Dance Cam to sweep down. Was someone out to get her or something? And now this . . .

She looked to where Ally and Bridget . . . yes . . . that was her name . . . hurried to confront the nice-looking young man in the center of the restaurant. Ally in her black skirt and heels. Bridget in her tight jeans and bowling shirt, streaks of pink streaming through her long, blonde hair.

Ally had shared prayer requests for Bridget many times during the years that they’ve become friends. Bridget had struggled since she’d become a teen, had made bad choices, and then found herself pregnant. Even though Sondra had compassion for the young woman, it had made her even more determined to make sure Zoe didn’t make the same choices. It was so easy to get off track.

One little compromise easily led to another, until you no longer recognized the person looking at yourself in the mirror. Sondra remembered what that was like. She’d been that young woman. She didn’t want Zoe to have to deal with the same pain. Same shame. The same permanent markings.

Sondra could hear their voices raising, even with her face hiding behind her purse.

Outside the doors she could hear shouting in the street too. “Mama, mama!” a man called with a frantic voice. She didn’t dare look, lest anyone think she was involved with them too. The hostess had already been giving her the stink eye since they’d returned.

“I am not overreacting!” Bridget yelled from across the restaurant. Sondra looked into the dining area, and she was almost certain that she saw the small crystals on the chandeliers quiver as Bridget’s words bounced off of them.

“Now!” Bridget’s voice escalated even more, and the hostess picked up the phone.

Sondra wrapped her arms around her tan leather clutch and pulled it tighter to her chest, anticipating the hostess’s words to come. Sondra scooted closer to where Izzy sat, and she again lifted up her clutch to hide her face. She hoped the hostess didn’t remember that Ally was with her, and by transitive property Bridget was too. The last thing she needed was for anyone to think she was part of this.

Ever since she’d married church-boy Ray, she’d done her best to live on the straight and narrow path. And when he graduated from seminary and then became pastor, staying above board was even more important. To have anyone question her reputation was to mar his . . . and she couldn’t do that to her husband. He was too good of a man for that.

From the widening of the hostess’s eyes it was clear the dispatcher had agreed to send a squad car.

“Chez Magique.” The hostess’ voice still sounded smooth, controlled as she spoke into the phone. “The reason? There is a crazy lady in our restaurant, and she just brought her crazy baby sister.”

Sondra dug around in her purse, pretending she was looking for something. It didn’t matter what she was looking for, just as long as her face wasn’t seen.

“A crazy baby sister, or a mini her,” the hostess continued. “There are two crazy ladies now. One crazy lady, now two crazy ladies. Chez Magique,” she repeated.

Sondra looked to Izzy, and Izzy stared her down. Izzy lifted her eyebrows as if expecting Sondra to have an answer, a plan.

Why did everyone always come to her? Look to her? Sondra shrunk down farther into the cushioned seat. She didn’t know how to get out of this. Ally had the keys to the van. And her cell phone was in the van too. She needed to fix that. She needed to text Ray and let him know what was happening. He needed to know in case word got back to him about what his wife had been up too . . . and maybe he’d have advice.

Izzy continued to stare, and Sondra shrugged. She had nothing. No answer. No solution. No way to get help, and it was the feeling she hated most. After all, others counted on her to do the right thing—to be the good example.