Never Sit Down in a Hoopskirt and Other Things I Learned in Southern Belle Hell (17 page)

“Ugh, this is terrible.”

Zara grimaced. “And I have no idea when I'll see him again. If ever.”

Mallory turned to Ashley. “We can make that happen, right, Ash?”

Ashley came out of her funk. “Of course, when we go to DC.”

“We'll sneak you out!” Cool, more sneaking around! I raised my glass in the air.

“To sneaking Zara out to see a cute boy!”

“To cute boys!”

“Of which Jimmy is no longer one!”

“Hear, hear!”

We toasted, clinked glasses amidst Mallory screaming, “Don't spill! No spilling on the dress!”

“We need more drinks!”

Mallory jumped up. “I'll get them!” And she bustled back to our bar and fired up her cocktail shaker to make another round of cosmopolitans.

Zara leveled a look at me. “You know what else we need? We need to know what's going on between Jane and Luscious Luke Churchville!”

“Yes we do!” Mallory sang from the bar.

“No we don't!” I sang back to her.

Zara was not giving up. “Come on. Everybody on our team at the fund-raiser noticed that something was going on. I have never seen so much eye ping-pong in my life. Glance here. Glance there. Glance everywhere.”

“Ha-ha. I never knew you were so funny, Z.”

Ashley jumped on Zara's bandwagon. “And I saw y'all out there on the porch at Lancer's the other night. It looked like some awfully personal words were being exchanged.”

“I saw that, too!” Caroline giggled.

“Tell us.”

“It won't kill you!”

Oh yes it will,
I thought. I had never told anyone the story. Ever. My heart was beating so fast as every eye in the room pounced on me, demanding I tear down the brick wall, pull out the box with Luke's name on it, and open it for all to see. It felt like I was in front of a firing squad, a pastel-colored, cosmo-tipsy, sweetly concerned firing squad. I tried to put them off. “Oh, it's such a long story.”

“We have time.”

“We have about ten more hours between now and breakfast.”

“Please, Jane,” said Caroline. “We really want to know.”

Something burst inside me. My heart? The dam holding back the waters? Whatever it was, I found myself spouting out everything about everything, from Disney World to Daddy and back again. I told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Every blow, every moment, every detail from five years ago to just last Saturday night. When I was done, the room was totally silent.

“Jane?” Caroline spoke tentatively after a few moments. “I… Was that your first kiss?”

I nodded, then in a fit of “Oh my God, I just revealed way too much!” I awkwardly wriggled my way to standing and rushed over to the bar to make myself another cosmo.

As I returned, I couldn't help but notice that Ashley was staring at me, mouth open as if she wanted to speak. “What, do you want to make fun of me now?” I snapped.

“No. Not at all.” She shook her head. “I'm just really sorry for you, Jane.”

“You're sorry?”

“Yeah, your family life, I can't imagine how hard it is not to have a mother. Or your father around. To live with your elderly grandmother. It's just not normal.”

“Okay. That sounds kind of terrible the way you said that, but I think you actually mean well.”

“I do!”

“You've had such a hard life, Jane,” Mallory said.

“Harder than anyone else's here, I bet,” said Brandi Lyn of all people.

I shrugged. “I don't know. I think everyone has a hard life, one way or another.”

Everyone nodded at that one. We sat quietly for a moment.

Finally, Zara broke the silence. “What are you going to do about Luke?”

“What is there to do? It's a done deal. He hates me.”

“Do you still like him?”

I thought about it a minute. “How can I? I don't know him. He's a memory. I have no idea who he is now. And he obviously hates me.”

“No he doesn't.”

“I don't believe that.”

I grimaced. “And he's with Mosey or Posey or whatever her name is.”

Mallory and Ashley exchanged glances. “I don't think so,” said Mallory.

“They may have hooked up at a party or something,” Ashley added.

“But if they were really dating, we'd know.”

“Yeah, this is Bienville. We'd totally know.”

Meanwhile, Caroline was mulling the whole thing over and coming up with a different take. “Jane, I bet he still likes you.”

Huh?! “I doubt it.”

“No, seriously. I bet he was really hurt by what happened back then and now that you're back in town, he really wants to see you. That's the kind of thing that happens in romance novels ALL the time. There's a misunderstanding, feelings get hurt.”

“But because he's a boy”—Ashley switched into total shrink mode—“and boys are notorious for being emotional morons, he lashed out.”

“But secretly underneath it all he still loves you.”

I nearly snorted my cosmo up my nose. If I had learned one thing it was that my life was definitely not a romance novel. “Yeah, right. Nice fantasy.”

Mallory grabbed my hand. “We could talk to him if you want.”

“NO!” I barked like a rabid dog. “Absolutely not, no way, no how!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down.”

“I'm serious, Mallory, Ashley. I just want to put the whole thing behind me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure! Leave it alone. Please. Let me forget about him.” Clearly, it was time to change the subject. “Anyway, Brandi Lyn,” I said, “what's going on with you? I thought you didn't drink anything stronger than Diet Coke? And you've had like, what? Three cosmos already.”

She giggled. “Oh, I'm just real tired, that's all. I've just been working hard at the Shack to make extra money and then at night on the dress.”

But out of the blue, her entire face transformed. Her easy smile slid away and her lower lip started trembling. She burst into sobs. “I'm sorry, y'all, it's just, I'm so, feeling so emotional. These stories are so sad! Ashley, what Jimmy did to you… I would just die if JoeJoe ever acted that way toward me! Zara, the fact that you can't be with the boy you love… And Jane, you poor thing! I just feel for you so much!”

It was as contagious as a yawn, her weeping.

Caroline burst into tears.

Then Mallory burst into tears.

Ashley was the next to go. At first she was calm, thanking Brandi Lyn for her sympathy, but once she got going it wasn't long before she was hiccuping and hyperventilating. “He was my whole life! I don't know how to carry on!” she exclaimed over and over again, as if she were straight out of some Shania Twain song (not that I'm dissing Shania Twain here because I'm not).

Mary, Mother of Meltdowns! What a big, blubbering pastel mess. The scene on the Bienville Civic Center stage four and a half weeks ago was nothing compared to this. This was a sixty-tissues-per-girl-meltdown mess.

Zara and I looked at each other, at first in this “Oh, Lord, can you believe the drama kind of way,” but then I couldn't help it, I felt a tear quiver in my eye, and I saw Zara's lips start trembling.

Under such conditions, it should come as no surprise that the histrionics level rose faster than a flood during a category five hurricane. One Maid threw out an idea and then another one picked up on it and we spiraled ourselves into a frenzy.

First it was:

“Boys are dumb!”

“Boys ARE dumb!”

“Boys are SO dumb!”

Then it shifted to:

“Jimmy is such a jerk for breaking up with Ashley in front of everybody!”

“We should have let JoeJoe beat him up!”

“Do you think he still will?”

“Oh yes, he and my brothers would totally do it! You want me to call them?”

“Kind of!”

“No, y'all are talking crazy talk!”

Then it spiraled in this direction:

“Jane, you need to straighten things out with Luke! Tell him the truth!”

“I told y'all, he doesn't care! Although we did save a bird together.”

“You saved a bird
together
!”

“Together!”

“That has to mean something, right?”

“Oh, it definitely means something!”

“He still likes you.”

“Soooo obvious!”

I shook my head. “No, y'all, it's not.” But then I got to thinking. And trust me on this, nothing good comes from thinking after downing three cocktails and interacting with a sixty-Kleenex meltdown. “But you know what
is
obvious? Luke owes me an apology. How dare he make out with some girl right in front of me?”

“Yeah!”

“You are soooo right!”

I turned to Ashley. “And furthermore, how dare Jimmy dump you so publicly? Doesn't he have any manners? Doesn't anyone have any manners anymore?”

“Yeah, Jimmy owes you an apology, Ashley!”

“Luke owes Jane an apology!”

And that's when I got the idea that changed everything. “We should go find them right now and get this taken care of.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You said it!”

“I wish we knew where they were.”

“Shoot. Too bad we don't.”

“I know where they are.” All eyes flew to Caroline.

“My cousin Jules told me. They're playing pool at his house tonight. Jimmy, Luke, Lancer, all of them.”

It took about sixty seconds for that to sink in. Then there was a mad scramble of hoops and ruffles and flounces as we all, as one, waddled to our feet.

Off we went, six sweet little Magnolia Maids, into the night to seek vigilante boy justice, secure in our beautiful newfound friendship.

If only it had lasted.

“Maybe we shouldn't be driving anywhere,” Caroline cautioned.

We were busily fixing our makeup before we went to confront the boys—after all, you have to look supercute while seeking vigilante boy justice—when Caroline made this salient point.

“I'll be right back!” Ashley exclaimed. She bustled out to her car and returned a few moments later with a small handheld device with a tube attached to it.

“What's that?” I asked.

“A Breathalyzer!” she rhapsodized. “Daddy got it for me for Christmas so that I would call him if I ever got too drunk to drive.” We eyed it with a combination of shock and awe.

Finally, I articulated what everyone was thinking. “Isn't your dad totally and completely encouraging you to be irresponsible and drink?”

“Jane! He knows I'm going to drink anyway! Might as well make sure I'm doing it responsibly.”

I thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, it's genius!”

Zara could not believe it. “My daddy would never ever ever consider doing that, not in a million years!”

Ashley passed around the Breathalyzer to see who was sober enough to drive. One by one we inhaled into the device, and a number would flash on the screen telling us our blood alcohol level. Ashley went first and giggled. “Oopsy! I guess it's not me who's driving!” She passed the Breathalyzer to Mallory.

“I am so drunk,” Mallory slurred before she even blew. “Look how drunk I am!” she bragged as she flashed her score around.

Brandi Lyn, the lightweight in the crowd, blew a lowish number, but just looking at her you could tell she was wobbling on her feet. Caroline and I were in the fair to middling range, not quite designated driver material. But Zara won our contest, blowing a very respectable low number. Clearly, she had not been knocking them back like the rest of us.

Ashley raised her hand in victory. “And we have a designated driver!”

“What can I say? I just like to sip,” replied Zara.

“Well, you are cut off now, young lady!” said I. “You and only you are responsible for the fate of Bienville's finest feminine specimens!”

We waddled out of the house and decided to take Ashley's SUV, since it had the best chance of accommodating us plus our tons of taffeta.

“How are you supposed to get into a car in one of these things?” I asked. Ever tried to step
up
into an Escalade in a thirty-five-pound dress? Not so easy.

Mallory and Ashley frowned. “Well, that's the thing,” said Mallory. “You're not supposed to.”

Ashley nodded. “Yeah, you're supposed to carry your skirts in the bag and put them on when you arrive at your appearance.”

“Should we go in and change?” asked Brandi Lyn. She just had on the hoopskirt, not the additional heavy layers, but that was still going to be an issue.

Now if we'd been smart, we would have taken all of this as a sign. We would have gone back inside, put ourselves to bed, and forgotten the whole thing.

But instead, I said, “Nooooo! We're Magnolia Maids!”

Ashley got on board. “Yeah! Let's do this!”

I got an idea. “I know!” I cried. “Y'all come push me in!”

Brandi Lyn and Mallory followed me around to the front passenger seat. I grabbed on to the handles in the Escalade. They put their hands on my butt.

“One! Two! Three!” They gave a giant heave as I pulled with all my might, and I soared into the SUV, landing face-first in the leather of the driver's seat. “Yay!” I cried.

“Yay!” everyone else cried.

“Okay, Zara, you come around to the driver's seat and I'll pull you in.”

We pushed and pulled each other into the Escalade, ruffles, flounces, hoops, and bonnets flying everywhere. Getting into the car was one thing. Getting those hoops corralled was another. They were popping all over the place. There just wasn't enough room for anyone to settle down into a seat properly. Mallory kept yelling, “Try to collapse them! And don't spill!” Yes, somebody had thought it was a good idea to bring along our liquor for the drive to Jules's house. Again, not the world's best idea.

When we finally got underway, I whipped out my iPhone and took a picture. I burst into laughter when I saw the results. “Oh my God! We don't even look like normal humans! We look like tiny heads floating on a sea of dresses!”

“Let me see! Let me see!” I passed the phone back and everybody started posing for the camera.

When we reached a stoplight, Mallory yelled, “Zara, Jane, turn around! Let me get your picture.” Zara put the emergency brake on and shifted in her seat. We leaned our bonnets toward each other and mugged like runway models. Beautiful!

The light turned green and Zara put her foot on the gas. We resumed our drive down Country Club Road, and all was well until Zara's skirt suddenly flew up behind her and knocked her bonnet over her eyes!

“Oh no, I can't see!” she yelled. The car swerved back and forth across the road as she fought off the lace and taffeta covering her face.

We screamed in terror.

“Ahhhhh!”

“Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“We're gonna die!”

“Oh my God, we're gonna die!”

“Lord, please don't let us die, please don't let us die, please don't let us die!”

“Jane, take the steering wheel!” Zara cried.

I darted forward to grab it, but I was tipsy, remember, so we were still careening a bit out of control. And I guess my sudden move forward must have loosened
my
hoopskirt, because out of nowhere it flew in my face, so I couldn't see, either! I panicked, shouting, “Help! Help!” I jerked the wheel by accident and all of a sudden the Escalade jumped the curb. “Zara, stop the car! Now!” I yelled.

Zara slammed on the brakes, or tried to. “I can't! My skirt's caught under the pedal!”

“Kick it out of the way!” I yelled.

“I'm trying!” But that clearly wasn't working.

“Stand on the brake then!”

Miraculously, Zara was able to lift herself straight and press all her weight on the brake pedal, and finally we screeched to a swerving, gut-wrenching halt.

We froze in stunned silence. After a moment, Brandi Lyn lifted her eyes to heaven. “Oh, most benevolent God,” she said with a slur. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting us live.”

“Amen,” we Maids replied in unison.

Alas, that's when we heard the sound of the siren.

It began normally enough, our pull-over. We flipped out, of course, when we realized the siren and the lights were for us, because a) we were all drunk as hell (except Zara), b) the SUV had jumped a curb at Le Moyne Park and come to a stop terribly close to the duck pond, and c) there was enough liquor in the car to service a Mardi Gras float. Everyone rushed to stash the bottles under seats, in the glove compartment, in the way backseat with Brandi Lyn. As the cop approached the driver's-side window, Mallory grabbed the cocktail shaker out of Ashley's hands and frantically searched for the lid. “Where is it? Where is it?” With mere seconds to spare before the officer arrived, I told her to shove the cocktail shaker between her feet and keep still.

“What about the smell?”

“Put something over it!”

“What?”

“I don't know, your skirt!”

As the officer got closer and closer, Brandi Lyn suddenly retched. “Y'all? I'm feeling a little… queasy.”

“Just keep it together,” I said. “We'll be out of this in no time.”

By the time the knock of authority sounded on the driver's-side window, we had composed ourselves into the cheeriest group of Magnolia Maids anybody ever saw in their life. “Hello, Officer,” we chimed as he leaned down to ask Zara for her license and registration. Officer Unfriendly was clearly not playing along with our perky little game—he frowned when he saw that Zara had to ask Ashley where the registration was. He frowned again when he saw that her driver's license was from DC. “You're not from around here, are you, young lady?”

“No, sir. My family moved here a few months ago.”

“You realize that you're supposed to update your license within ten days of change of address?”

“Uh, no, sir. I did not.”

“I could give you a citation right now.”

“I apologize, sir, I'll take care of it first thing Monday morning.”

“You do that.” He stared at her, his eyes laser beams burning through her skin. Then he aimed his spotlight into the car, highlighting us one by one.

“Hi, Officer,” I said when his light got to me. “We are Bienville's new Magnolia Court. You've heard of us, right?” He didn't look too excited, but at least he nodded. “Well, we're just coming home from our very first Magnolia Court event, and well, we've been having some wardrobe malfunctions.” I explained what had happened with my and Zara's skirts and how we had ended up jumping the curb into the park. “But we're fine. Everybody's okay.” I gave him my brightest Southern belle smile. “Except for having to wear these super-awkward outfits.”

“Y'all, I'm gonna throw up!” Brandi Lyn clawed to get out of the back of the Escalade. “Somebody help me out of here!”

Great. Perfect timing for ruining my cover story. I attempted to bat my eyelashes at the officer. “Poor Brandi Lyn, she hasn't been feeling so good tonight.”

“Y'all! Help!”

I jumped out of the front seat and ran to the back and ripped open the door… just in time to receive the bountiful gift of Brandi Lyn's vomit all over my bodice. “Ewww!” I screamed.

“Oh, Jane, I'm sorry, so sorry!” And she puked again, but this time only on my skirt. Thank God.

Officer Unfriendly beamed his light back on Zara. “Get out of the car, please.” Officer Unfriendly made Zara do the walking test, the one where you have to follow a straight line, then hold your arms out and touch your nose. She passed it with flying colors, thank goodness. Meanwhile, Caroline found a beach towel in the backseat and handed it to me so I could dab the vomit off my chest.

“Okay, young lady,” Officer Unfriendly said to Zara as she got back in the car. “Get this vehicle cranked and turned around.”

Mallory gasped. “Oh no! You're taking us to jail!”

He shook his head. “No. Suspicious and ridiculous as this situation is, I'm gonna let you girls off.” He raised a threatening eyebrow. “This time.”

The sighs of relief in the Escalade were so enormous, our sea of dresses ebbed and flowed like a taffeta tidal wave.

The biggest sigh of all came from Caroline. “Thank you, Officer! God bless you, Officer!”

“But,” he continued, “I'm gonna make sure you get home without any more incidents. So get this vehicle cranked and let's go.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” Zara started the engine, and our night probably would have ended there, except…

“Wait, follow us home?” I gave the officer a super-fake smile. “Actually, Officer, that won't be necessary.”

He leaned down and scowled at me.

“Jane, please.” Zara shook her head.

“No, Zara, there's no need for him to follow us.”

“Jane, forget about it. Let's just go back to Mizz Upton's and call it a night.”

But in my mind we'd done nothing wrong. “But we're fine, Zara. We don't need a police escort.”

Zara's eyes pleaded with me to shut up. “The nice officer is just making sure we get home safely. So let's let him.”

“But we have to finish our mission for the day,” Ashley called from the middle of the backseat. “Excuse me, Officer! We have something we have to do.”

“You'll do it tomorrow, then,” Officer Unfriendly replied. “You girls are a menace to society driving around in those dresses, and I want you home where you belong NOW. Before you jump any more curbs. Or worse.”

But that Ashley, she wasn't having it. She leaned across Mallory to yell out the driver's-side window, “But Officer, we have official Magnolia Maid business! If my uncle, the sponsor of the program, the head of the chamber of commerce, hears about you stopping us, you are going to be officially in trouble!”

Oh no. It was so obvious that the “do you know who I am routine” was pissing off the officer. But the thing that really threw him over the edge was that she leaned over to wag her finger at him, getting into Mallory's face, so Mallory jumped back, which caused her to kick over the cocktail shaker and send its contents streaming across the Escalade's floor. Within seconds, the air reeked of vodka and Grand Marnier, and Officer Unfriendly's nostrils came to serious attention.

“No, young lady,” he said. “
You
are officially in trouble. Everybody out of the car. We're going downtown.”