Happily Ever Madder: Misadventures of a Mad Fat Girl (11 page)

19

T
uesday passes with no excitement whatsoever, and the highlight of my day on Wednesday is hauling my big mermaid picture downstairs and hanging it front and center on the main wall of the gallery. I gather up all of my other under-the-sea-themed paintings and arrange them around my new mermaid.

“Lovely,” I say to myself and decide that I need to paint more mermaids, because mermaids make me happy.

Avery comes in dressed in her usual outlandish garb, and I stay downstairs and chat with her the entire afternoon, because the last thing I want to do is sit by myself in a quiet room. Avery tries to coax me upstairs a few times, but I refuse. I think about using one of Gramma Jones’s old lines, “You ain’t the boss of me!” on her but decide she might take it the wrong way, so I just keep that to myself.

Before she leaves, I invite her to Girls Night In the following night and she quickly accepts.

“Tia says everyone brings a snack, like an appetizer or a dessert or something,” I say and want to tell her not to bring any of that shit from Eden’s Treats but remember that first of all, it’s not my place to tell her what kind of snacks she can or can’t bring to a party and second of all, that wad of grass she brought me Monday was actually pretty tasty, so perhaps I should be a bit more open-minded.

Wednesday night is another tiresome meal in the conference room, and the only thing that gets me through it is looking forward to Thursday, which, lo and behold, finally arrives.

I get up early, take Buster Loo for a walk, and get to the gallery fifteen minutes early. No one comes in all morning, but I don’t care because I’m so excited about Girls Night In. I’ve just finished a tasty lunch from Bee Bop’s Burgers & Shakes when the doorbell chimes and I walk out into the gallery to find Lenore Kennashaw. She’s standing beside the counter wearing a lime green blouse and starched khaki shorts. She has on the same ugly green sandals she wore in here last time and that same necklace with the stupid hammer pendant.

“Hello, Mrs. Kennashaw,” I say, thinking I’m going to need another cheeseburger to calm my nerves after this heifer leaves. “What brings you in today?” I make up my mind that I don’t care what she says; I’m not giving her a damn thing. And I decide to be nice in the least pleasant way possible.

“Oh, just out looking around,” she says with a tepid smile.

I want to ask her if she ever plans on paying for that calla lily painting she took out of here on opening night, but that would be tacky since I know she donated it to charity. What’s even tackier than that, however, is that she’ll take full credit for the donation and never mention that she stiffed me on the payment. It’s so obvious to me now that she operates just like Tia said she does. I watch as she prowls around my studio, turning up her nose at my work. She stops in front of my big mermaid and grimaces like she’s in physical pain.

“Who would want a painting of an enormous imaginary sea creature?” she asks, glancing down at my thighs.

I look at her and sigh. Then I remember what Sylvie Best said about the people who can and will determine my success in this quaint little town.

“Someone who likes mermaids,” I say flatly.

She shakes her head like that’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard and moves on to my wall of flowers.

“This looks like something you’d find at a cheap whorehouse,” she says, pointing to the picture of roses at twilight that Kevin Jacobs said was too romantic to get for his mom. I remember what he said about his parents getting it on and that amuses me to the point I’m able to smile.

“Mrs. Kennashaw,” I say, “if you need anything, I’ll be in my office. Otherwise, have a nice day and thank you for stopping by.”

I walk straight to my office, plop down at my desk, and text Lilly until Lenore Kennashaw finally leaves fifteen minutes later. It just so happens to be Lilly’s planning period, so I give her a call and whine and complain about Lenore Kennashaw being so intolerable.

“Is she gone?” Lilly asks.

“Yes, she left without saying good-bye and I’m so upset,” I say sarcastically.

“Don’t worry about her, Ace,” Lilly says. “She just one of those people who mistakenly thinks her opinion matters to those of us with good sense.”

“You’re saying I have good sense?” I ask. “Thank you.”

She starts laughing and I ask her if she thinks Lenore is trying to frame me by sending Ramona’s nephew in here to get me all hot and bothered so she can tell Mason.

“The only framing you need to worry about is the kind that involves art,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I just don’t know if I can stand it, Lilly,” I say. “I mean, she comes in here showing her ass and I’m supposed to stand around and act like I appreciate it?”

“I’m sure they don’t have
that
much control over what goes on in Pelican Cove,” Lilly says with a noticeable lack of conviction. “Do you know what you need?”

“What’s that?”

“You need Gloria Peacock down there.”

“Oh, my goodness,” I say, laughing. “And Birdie Ross.”

“Birdie Ross would set those bitches straight,” Lilly says.

We talk for a minute about how great it would be to have Gloria Peacock and her friends at the gallery one day when Lenore and her pals show up.

“It would be like a senior citizen smack down!” Lilly says.

We laugh and start scheming up ways to make that happen.

“You need to host another event there,” Lilly says.

“Yeah, but it would be my luck they wouldn’t even show up after Gloria and Birdie drive all the way down here.”

“Gloria and Birdie drive down to Seaside to see Daisy all the time,” Lilly says. “They wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Yeah, but
why
would I host an event?” I ask. “We missed Labor Day, it’s a month and a half until Halloween, and I’d look like an idiot trying to plan a last-minute Columbus Day celebration.”

“Just wait and host a Christmas party,” Lilly suggests. “You could paint up some holiday cheer to sell.”

“I don’t know if I can put up with it until Christmas.”

“Have an early one. Like the week after Thanksgiving. That means you would only have to keep your mouth shut for the next, uh—” She pauses. “Okay, that’s not going to work, is it?”

“Exactly!” I tell her. “I need some relief
now
!”

“Well, the bell just rang to start sixth period, so I’ve got to go,” she says in a hushed tone. “Let’s think about this and talk later.”

I tell her good-bye and then start fantasizing about how funny it would be for Gloria Peacock and Birdie Ross to be here one day when Lenore Kennashaw showed up with her pit-bull pal, Sylvie Best. I wouldn’t have to say a word. I could just sit back and watch the showdown.

I piddle around for the rest of the afternoon, then decide to lock up thirty minutes early and head home. When I turn in to my subdivision, I see some weirdos walking down the street, so I slow down to check them out. I’m not surprised when I see it’s Margo and Cindy, but I am surprised to see they’re wearing safety goggles and yellow kitchen gloves.

“What the hell?” I mumble as I drive past them. Margo has a handful of green plastic bags and Cindy is holding a scoop, so I can only assume that they are out on voluntary shit patrol. I wave but they don’t wave back. They only stare at me through their safety goggles. I start laughing and can’t stop.

When I get to the house, I run to the garage and rummage through Mason’s sporting goods cabinet until I find a pair of binoculars. I take them to the kitchen to clean them up, and with Buster Loo hot on my heels, I run upstairs to the guest bedroom. He jumps on the bed and barks like a mad dog while I scan the neighborhood with the binoculars. I spot Margo and Cindy and watch with great amusement as Cindy bends over and scoops something into one of Margo’s green bags, which Margo promptly ties up. Then Cindy stands up and Margo steps behind her, places the bag against her back, and starts writing on it.

Buster Loo is going nuts, so I cease and desist with the undercover surveillance. I close the blind and go downstairs, and after whipping up some ham dip and sticking it in the oven, I go outside and play fetch with Buster Loo. When the kitchen timer goes off forty-five minutes later, I get the dip out, set it down to cool, and start getting really excited about Girls Night In.

20

I
get back to the gallery at ten minutes before seven, go inside, and piddle with the lighting until I get it like I think it needs to be. Tia arrives a few minutes later, followed by Avery. At five minutes after seven, the door opens and Tia shouts, “Olivia! You made it!”

“Help me, Lord, yes, I did,” the woman named Olivia says, walking back to the break room. “It’s like my kids knew instinctively that Mama was trying to have a little fun so they all went nuts when I picked up my purse. Their daddy got ’em settled back down with some
Toy Story
, so I was able to slip out the door.” She looks at me. “Well, hello there. You must be Ace Jones.”

I smile, and Tia goes through the introduction process with Olivia, Avery, and me.

“Oh, I know you. You’re Dr. Leo’s youngest,” Olivia says to Avery. “The artist, of course.”

“Of course.” Avery smiles a painful little smile and looks like she’s embarrassed.

“My family knows Dr. Leo very well,” Olivia explains. “Every year, one of my kids breaks something and we have to go see Dr. Leo.” She looks at me. “He’s a wonderful doctor. Great with kids.”

“Oh, okay,” I say and try to think up something to add to that, but don’t have to because the door flies open with the arrival of another guest. I turn to see a woman who looks just like Olivia, only instead of being long and lean like her, she’s pleasantly plump like me. She’s wearing a pink T-shirt that I’ve looked at a dozen times on Old Navy’s “exclusively online” plus section and a pair of knee-length jogging pants that fit her like a glove. In a good way. I make a mental note to ask her where she found those pants before she leaves tonight.

“Hey, y’all!” this big, beautiful woman calls as she crosses the gallery floor. “Y’all know I don’t cook, so I went to Walmart and got some frosted cookies and cheesecake!”

“That’s why you don’t have a man, ’cause you don’t cook,” Olivia calls out.

“Well, I ain’t ever gonna start cookin’, then,” she says, and that cracks us all up.

“Ace Jones, meet Jalena Flores, Olivia’s younger sister.”

“Oh, you a chubbily-bubbly like me, girl!” Jalena crows, then gives me a big bear hug.

“Nice to meet you,” I say and tell myself not to start squalling because I’m so happy to have a fellow chubster on the scene. I haven’t had a fatty gal pal in nearly three years.

I had a bunch of pudgy friends in college, but when I moved back to Bugtussle, I had only one, and that was Nelda Graves. She was from Olive Branch, Mississippi, but took a job in Bugtussle because she didn’t want to move back home after graduating from college. She’d been teaching there for two years when I got hired and we became fast friends. She made fun of me when I had a fling with the new baseball coach and I made fun of her when she had a fling with the new football coach, and it was fun and games until he got a job in Senatobia and they got married and moved.

Tia introduces Jalena to Avery while I spread the food out on the counter. Tia mixes up what she calls her World Famous Magic Punch, and Avery creeps up and whispers that she left her dish in the car.

“Why?” I whisper back.

“It’s tofu pot stickers from Eden’s Treats,” she says, eyeballing the meat-filled tater-tot casserole that Olivia brought.

“So what?” I whisper back. “Go get it!”

She does but insists on telling everyone beforehand that it’s a vegetarian dish. No one seems to mind, and everybody has a pot sticker and no one makes any gagging noises, so I chalk that up as a win. The only awkward moment comes when Tia, who obviously missed the cue, offers Avery a sausage ball and Avery politely declines. Only after Tia looks down at her plate and sees that she had three pot stickers and a frosted cookie does it register that Avery doesn’t eat meat.

“Avery, I’m so sorry for trying to force this pork on you.”

While Avery tries to explain that she isn’t bothered by what others eat, Jalena effectively vanquishes all traces of uneasiness by loudly declaring that it would make her day if someone tried to force some pork on her.

After we finish the first round of snacking, Tia insists we all top off our cups with her World Famous Magic Punch and relocate to the couches in the gallery. Avery tells the others that I’m planning a wedding, so they have a lively discussion about the various places someone could get married in Pelican Cove. After almost an hour, they all agree that I need to start my search at the Beach House Bed and Breakfast. I pick up my phone and punch that info into my notes app while they carry on about which of the two bakeries is the best, and then they start on florists. I go get my notebook and cross off some of the places on my list after Jalena tells a few horror stories about Flora-zillas ruining a couple of weddings in which she was a bridesmaid.

“This is some great information,” I say, making more notes. “I appreciate it!” Then, not wanting to hog up all the party time with my personal issues, I close the notebook and put it on the coffee table.

“Who needs some more World Famous Magic Punch?” Avery asks, getting up. Everyone does, so she ends up hauling the whole punch bowl out to where we’re sitting.

We talk about music and books and movies, and after discussing the latest celebrity mishaps, we start talking about men. Jalena, as it turns out, has several memberships to online dating Web sites and, despite her sister’s concern for her safety, goes on all kinds of blind dates. This intrigues Avery, who starts quizzing her about the men she’s met online.

“Tell us about the worst guy you ever met,” Avery says, and Jalena throws her head back and laughs.

“Girl, they’ve all been awful!” she says, and that cracks us all up again. “That’s why I’m still single!”

“Yeah, but there had to be one,” I say. “One that was so bad you won’t ever forget him.”

“Tell them about Travis!” Olivia says, taking a swig of her drink. “Travis is my favorite one to hate!”

“Olivia, I just met these two girls and you want me to start off with a naughty story like that?”

“I like naughty stories myself,” I say.

“As do I,” Avery chimes in.

“Let’s hear it!” Tia says, with a twinkle in her eye. “We’re all grown-ups!”

“So y’all want to hear my story about a dirty dog named Travis?” she says with a cunning smile, and we all whoop and holler and carry on until she says, “Well, just remember that you asked for it!”

And so she begins. “Travis was shorter than me, which, you know, is going to happen sometimes, and that was okay with me at the time, because Travis was a stud. A short little stud.” We giggle about that while Jalena stirs her drink and shakes her head. “But you couldn’t tell by looking that Travis was a stud. He had these small hands and these little-bitty fingers, and on our first date I thought, ‘Yeah, Travis is rocking a two-inch dong, but I’m going to go ahead and let him buy me dinner and then I won’t ever speak to him again.” We all squeal with laughter, and Jalena continues. “Girls, I was wrong about Travis. Travis wined me and dined me and we went back to my place, and, y’all, he talked the panties right off this big, round rump.” She points to her backside, and I think that’s so funny that I almost spit my drink everywhere. In trying not to, I end up spewing most of it out my nose. I hold up my hand and she pauses while I run to the restroom get myself back together.

“Okay, I’m okay now, please continue,” I say, sitting back down.

“I’ll just get right to the point. Travis had a wiener that looked like something they sell by the pound at the butcher shop. It was this big, long, fat monster of a penis. I swear, girls, I’ve never seen anything like in my
life
!”

We start squealing again, and I glace at Avery to see her reaction to all of this. She has her eyes squeezed shut and her face is flushed red because she’s laughing so hard, so I stop worrying about her getting offended.

“Travis was a
stud
!” Olivia hollers and raises her drink. “And Jalena couldn’t get enough of that little man with the big snake in his britches.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Jalena says, looking starry-eyed. “I know y’all have heard about men being pussy whipped; well, I’m here to tell you that short dude had this big girl
dick whipped
!”

“Dick whipped, I tell ya!” Olivia yells.

I’m laughing so hard I’m afraid I might faint, Tia has tears rolling down her cheeks, and Avery appears to be on the verge of hyperventilating. I look at Jalena and say, “Please, don’t stop!”

“That’s what she said.” Olivia snorts and we all squeal with laughter again.

“Well, Travis was a shady bastard from the start. He only wanted to date on Tuesdays and Thursdays and claimed he was going to surprise me with a weekend date. Well, I was surprised all right when Travis and I had hot, lovely relations every Tuesday and Thursday for a month and I had yet to get my weekend date. Now, normally I don’t get all up in a man’s business and start asking questions, because I know better. They lie like dogs about shit that don’t matter, so of course they’re gonna lie about important stuff,
especially
when they’re getting some good poon-tang pie. But I was starting to think something was amiss, so I asked him, I said, ‘Travis, I’m waiting on my surprise weekend date.’ He was slick as an onion, y’all, and he told me to just hold on because he was planning us something really special. And so I waited.”

“Because you were dick whipped?” Avery asks, and then falls backward against the cushions, laughing. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just had to say it!”

“Exactly! And two weeks and four booty calls later, Travis shows up at my door with two tickets to a four-day cruise to Mexico.”

We all clap and whoop and Jalena gets up and does a little victory dance around the sofa. “So little Travis and I drive over to N’awlins, where he buys me dinner at Emeril Lagasse’s fine eating establishment; then we go get on our cruise ship, and, ladies, I’m here to tell you that I had the time of my life! When we went to the beach in Mexico, he insisted I go topless, so I did, and I swear on Tia’s sausage balls that I have never felt more beautiful than I did that day. I thought I was fallin’ in love, girls. We had pictures made and he bought me all kinds of liquor and jewelry and gave me money to gamble with and it was the best four days of my life.” She stops and takes a long sip of her drink. “So I guess y’all wanna know what happened when we got home? I mean, why I’m not married to the man, right?”

We carry on and beg her to tell us and she takes a deep breath and continues. “Well, we were the last couple off the ship because we snuck off behind the stage and had sex while everyone else was standing around waiting to disembark. He said he didn’t want our time together to end.” She looks around and sees that we’re a captive audience, so she leans in and lowers her voice. “Well, I soon found out why he didn’t want our time together to end.” She nods and looks at her sister, who shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Because when we got out to the parking garage, his
other
girlfriend was parked right beside his convertible Mustang, and, let me just go on and tell y’all, that bitch was crazy! When we got out of the elevator, there she was—cussing and yelling and carrying on like a fool.”

“How did she know?” I ask, rapt with suspense.

“Well, from what I gathered from her screaming fit, she hacked into his e-mail and found out where he was, who he was with, and when our boat was coming in.” Jalena shakes her head.

“What did you do?” Avery asks, like she might die soon if she doesn’t find out.

“I jerked my liquor out of his hand and told him I had to go. Then she starts in on me, calling me whore and all that, and I just turned around and walked away. Well, she came runnin’ up behind me and pushed me, and I turned around to face her, put my finger in her face, and said, ‘Listen up, girl. This can go one of two ways. You can get yourself back over there and act a fool or you can act a fool right here and I’ll stomp your ass in the pavement.’ Well, she took off back toward Travis, and then that little rat bastard looked at me, shook his head, and yelled, ‘I’m sorry, Jalena. I don’t know why she’s here. I broke up with her three months ago.’”

“You are kidding!” I exclaim.

“Wish I was,” she says. “He was caught red-handed in the act and was still trying to hold on to his other piece of ass.”

“Right in front of his ex-girlfriend that was really his girlfriend?” Tia says. “Wow. Sounds like my ex-husband.”

“Had they really broken up?” Avery asks, wide-eyed.

“Hell no!” Jalena says. “When he said that, she lost her shit for real and started crying and squalling and yelling about an engagement ring. I went downstairs, caught a cab to the French Quarter, and got myself a room. I had a good cry and then ripped up all those pictures we took together and went out on Bourbon Street and had myself a blast. Next day, I rented a car and drove home.”

“That’s terrible,” Avery says.

“What’s terrible is that I let myself get into a situation like that for a little—okay, a whole lot of man-sausage.” That gets us all tickled again. All except Avery, who looks like she’s about to cry.

“So he broke your heart?” Avery asks.