Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (43 page)

“Uh
huh,” I replied.  It came out as an unintelligible babble.

“And
that Bloody Mary,” he added. “Those things have lots of sodium.”

I
shook my head and began to think sober thoughts.  Clearly there was more to
this massage thing than met the eye.  Although James was certainly easy on the
eyes.  I sighed inwardly.  Clearly, as usual, I was attracted to another out of
bounds guy.

James
helped me onto the massage table, explained the drill, the philosophy of
massage, and within moments I was yawning.   He turned on some new age music in
his portable boom box.  “To relax you,” he explained.

“Oh,”
I replied, lying face down on my tummy.

“Do
you prefer oil or cream?”  he asked.  I picked my head up.  Huh?  Were we
having salads now?  “For your massage,” he clarified.

“Oh.
Dunno,” I answered.

“Right. 
Okay.  Well, let’s try this; a lot of people like this,” he said and started
rubbing my calves and feet with a warm oil that smelled like rosemary and
lavender.

I
woke up in the late afternoon light with Aunt Muriel asleep on the sofa to a
Classics! movie re-run.  I rolled onto my side.  It looked like we were in the
middle of ‘African Queen’.  Auntie snuffled softly in the foreground.  I sat
up, stiffish and all-over stickyish.  I was still wrapped in my sheet.  And
almost every inch of me was covered in a lavender rosemary scented film.  I looked
around and saw James’ boom box.  It was still on the coffee table, with the
water glass on it, and a note that read, ‘Drink this.’  Even though I wondered
if I’d grow too big or shrink too small, I realized I was very thirsty and that
this might be a good thing to do.  I drank the water and wondered into which
phase of Alice in Wonderland I would be propelled.  Then I got up and shuffled
the glass into the kitchen.  The dishwasher hummed happily, and my casserole
dishes and various serving pieces lay cleaned and drying on Auntie’s kitchen
counters.  The clock on the microwave over the stove blinked 3:43 p.m.  I got
out a mini bottle of spring water from Auntie’s fridge and drank that, too.

I
walked back into the living room where Auntie was still fast asleep to Humphrey
Bogart and Katherine Hepburn battling leeches.  I shuddered.  I hate leeches. 
I can’t stand the sight of escargot because I’m pretty sure they’re just French
leeches in disguise.

I
went into Auntie’s bathroom and showered and dressed.   When I came back out,
Auntie was awake, flipping the remote control in one hand, with a mug of coffee
in the other.

“Brunch
was very good, dear,” she said, still flipping.  She landed on the local news
recap.

“Thanks. 
I really didn’t mean to go overboard,” I said.

“I
know. I just wish you didn’t worry so much,” Auntie said.

I
sighed.  “I don’t mean to.  It’s just my stupid catering disorder.”

“Stop
it.”

“I
keep trying,” I said.

“No,
I mean I wish you’d stop referring to it as a catering disorder,” Auntie said. 
I looked at her.  “You know, your mother and I were talking after you passed
out… I mean, were having your massage.”

“I
passed out?” Auntie nodded.  I was horrified.  “What did Ma put in my Bloody
Mary?” I asked.

“Nothing
more than the usual.  But James explained that sometimes stress builds up so
much in some people that when they finally relax, they sometimes pass right
out.  He said it’s a lot like people suffering from sleeping disorders.  They
have so much sleep deprivation that when they finally get that first good
night’s rest, they sleep for days.”

“Oh,”
I said.

Auntie
sipped her coffee.  “He felt very badly for you, dear,” she said.  I rolled my
eyes.  “Luckily you were his only appointment today, otherwise he would have
had to wake you to take his table back.”

“I
was his only appointment?  I thought you and Ma were getting massages too?” I
asked.

Auntie
sipped.  “We lied,” she said.

“Oh. 
Where’s Ma?”

“Outlets.”

“Oh. 
That makes sense.” 

“By
the way, dear, James needs to pick up his equipment tomorrow morning, and I
have a hair appointment.  Would you be a dear and be here to let him in?” she
said.

“Are
you lying again?” I asked.

“No,
I really do have another hair appointment. I’m due for my dye.”

“Sure,”
I said.

“Anyway,
your mother and I were talking,” she began again, “and we think that you should
get into some kind of restaurant business.  Maybe take a job with something
already established, to learn the ropes, and then branch out on your own.”

I
swallowed.  “Auntie, you realize that starting out with no experience in that
kind of a business basically means I’d make dishwasher’s pay?”

“Well,
it beats flippin’ burgers,” she answered.  “Unless of course they’re your own
burgers,” she added quickly.

A
Botox commercial ended and the news came back on.  The news anchorwoman – the
same one who’d shown up at Vito’s porch-burning – appeared on the screen.

“This
just in: breaking news about the burning Buy-A-Lots,” she beamed.  “What do you
have, Cecily?”

The
TV screen shifted from the polished looking anchorwoman in the air conditioned
studio, to another, much slighter version of herself, standing glumly in the
middle of a rainy cow pasture.  The rain drizzled off the top of her rain
jacket hood and flowed steadily down in a mini-waterfall that drained between
her face and her microphone.

“Thanks,
Barbie.  Just moments ago, Howard Blech, 45 of E-town, was arrested as an
apparent suspect in this, what appears to be yet another arson attempt, at
burning down a new Buy-A-Lot store.  As fate would have it, Nature came to the
rescue, ahead of the Adams County fire department,” she said brightly, tipping
her hood and showering her feet with fresh rainwater.  The girl grimaced. 
“Live to you from Adams County, I’m Cecily Barns.”

I
gulped.

“Isn’t
Howard Blech your boss?” Auntie asked.

“Ex-boss,”
I corrected.

“Right.
Well, maybe EEJIT will rehire you now?”

I
looked at Auntie and rubbed my neck.

I
left the various brunch booty and containers at Auntie’s.  After all, I’d be
back tomorrow morning to let Massage Man in, right?  I sighed.  That was going
to be embarrassing.  I just hoped I hadn’t talked in my sleep, or worse.  What
if I snored?

Outside,
the late afternoon air was almost bearable.  A wind picked up.  I watched some
dark clouds roll in.  Apparently we were due for the same storm Auntie and I
had just watched on TV in Adams County.  Well, that’s Central PA weather for
you.  If you don’t like the weather now, just wait a few minutes and it will
change.  I got into Vito’s car and headed home, back through the maze of
upscale streets that led to my normal scale neighborhood.

I
pulled back up Vito’s side of Mt. Driveway and shut the car off.  It looked
like all was quiet at the OK Corral of my house.  And Vito’s.  I wondered how
long I could sit in the driveway.  Probably not long. I opened the door, and
clambered out.  I felt a little stiff.  Funny.

As
I walked up my front path, I saw my door was open with only the screen door
closed.  I leaned my face against it until my forehead waffled.  Again.  I
sniffed: no smoke.  I peered into the living room windows.  The TV was on. 
Vito lay on my sofa with Stanley curled up on the sofa arm, sleeping on his
back, his belly rising softly up and down in time with Vito’s snoring.  Vinnie
lay on the floor with his belly up and legs splayed in front of the TV.  Marie
screamed from upstairs.  Another usual evening in my unusual household.

As
I stepped inside, Vito sat up and yawned.

“Hey,
Toots,” he said, rubbing his eyes and patting Stanley.  Vinnie rolled over and
yawned at me.  “Hey, did you see the news? Did you hear about your old boss?”
Vito asked, wide-eyed.  “Who’d of thunk it, right?” I shook my head.

“How
was your massage?” he asked.

I
told him the broad strokes polite description, careful to omit my passing out
on the massage table part.

“Hey,
you got a message from Appletree on your answering machine,” Vito said when I’d
finished.

“Really?” 
I asked.

“Yeah,
he said you can pick up the Doo-doo anytime tomorrow; yous just gotta have a
photo ID.”

“Anything
else?”

“Well,
of course I’m happy to drop you off to pick up your van tomorrow morning.”

“Great. 
Thanks. Might be kinda early though.”

“Really?
That’s great! I mean, why?”

I
gave Vito the thumbnail sketch about having to be at Auntie’s house in time to
let James pick up his gear.

The
phone rang.  It was K..

Vito
waved at me.  “I’ll let yous have your privacy, Toots,” he said, Stanley yipping in tow behind him, chasing his trouser cuff.

“Aren’t
you EX-CITED!?” K. cried.

“Sure,”
I lied.

“Alright,
now what time did you promise to pick me up tomorrow?”

“Huh?”

“Tomorrow!
The Supper Club!” K. yelped.

After
getting chastised and then forgiven by K., we rearranged that I’d pick him up
no later than one o’clock tomorrow afternoon, so we’d have more time to spring
Ida from her tower and hoist Walter into the van.

I
hung up the phone, and proceeded to take care of my pets.  I gave Marie some
water, seeds, and ‘The Sound of Music’.  Then Vinnie led me back downstairs.
“Alright,” I said, offering two cans of Finicky Fare.  “Chicken Lips or Fishy
Feets?” I asked.  Vinnie put a paw on top of the can of Fishy Feets.  I
grimaced.  “I hope you realize that I know that fish do not have feet,” I
said.  “I don’t name or make the stuff.  So I make no guarantees.”  I shuddered
to think what animal parts the pet food industry considered fish feet worthy.

I
fed Vinnie, poured myself another glass of water, and sat down on the sofa to
watch the remainder of the food show Vito and the boys were watching when I
came home.  Apparently, we were in the middle of something called ‘Real Men Eat
This!’

I
watched in horror as some guy walked about various villages eating various
forms of dung bugs.  Yick.  It seems they’re called dung bugs for a reason. 
They looked like mushrooms on legs.  That said, I considered where mushrooms
grow.  YICK.

The
phone rang.  I flipped the flipper before I sidled out of my chair. I didn’t
want to leave Vinnie with the dung bugs and spoil his Fishy Feets dinner.

“Hello,”
I answered, gulping my water in the hopes of washing away images of dung bugs.

“Hi,
Mina, this is James,” the voice on the other end said.

I
swallowed hard down the wrong pipe, coughed and sprayed water across the sink
backsplash.

“Hold
on,” I gasped.

I
coughed into the sink.  Well, at least it hadn’t been wine.  Burgundy splatters
across my Anita Bryant orange kitchen would have looked like a deranged French
child’s first painting of a sunset.  I looked at Vinnie.  He glowered at me
pointedly, indicating a faint rain of drizzle on his forehead.  I wiped at it. 
“Sorry, buddy,” I apologized.  Vinnie responded with emphatic comments about
stupid is as stupid does, and humans are much too aggrandized regarding
thumbs.  Then he resumed his meal.

A
few thousand years after putting the phone down, I picked it back up.

“Are
you still there?” I asked.

“Are
you alright? Did I call at a bad time?” James asked.

“Oh,
no, everything’s just great,” I fibbed.

“Okay. 
Hey, look, I left my stuff over at your aunt’s today, and need to pick it up
tomorrow morning before I see my next client.  But your aunt said she’s not
able to be there; she has to get her hair done or something.  She insisted I
call you, to let me into her house tomorrow morning.  Can you meet me over
there and let me in?”

Clever
Auntie.  Made sure James had my phone number for purely business reasons. 
Right.

“Sure,
I just have to pick up the Doo-doo in the morning,” I said.

“Huh?”

“My
van,” I explained.  “It’s a long story.  Sort of.  Anyway, I’m planning on
picking it up first thing in the morning from the police impound.”

There
was another long pause.  Then, “How about you call me as you’re leaving for
your aunt’s house?”

“Okay,
what’s your number?”

James
gave me his cell phone number, admonished me not to be late because of his
morning client, and we hung up.  Well.

I
no sooner hung up the phone when Bauser called.

“Hey,
Mina, did you see the news? It was How-weird after all!”

“I
know.  Somehow, it just doesn’t make sense.  I mean complete sense,” I said.