You Dropped a Blonde on Me (19 page)
Maxine’s mouth hung open in awe as she perused the vast acres of aisles and aisles of—of
stuff
. So much stuff. Stuff for as far as the eye could see. “Wowwww,” was all she had to offer.
stuff
. So much stuff. Stuff for as far as the eye could see. “Wowwww,” was all she had to offer.
Mona shook her head and rolled her eyes in Gail’s direction. “I’m almost ashamed to call you my own, toots. You really haven’t ever been inside a Walmart? I still can’t believe what a princess you are.”
The shake of her head was sluggish. “Nuh-uh. Not for a long, long time. Lola did all of the shopping. I just wrote down what I wanted and she provided.” Jesus. That sounded so shallow—so diva-esque, even to her own ears. “And I’m not a princess, Mom. Princesses aren’t poor. So take a good look”—she pulled at the lining of her pockets to show her mother—“I
am
poor. As a church mouse. The horror, huh? And it wasn’t like I wouldn’t have been more than willing to go do the shopping and errands, but Finley was adamant about the ‘help,’ as he called them, doing what they were paid to do.”
am
poor. As a church mouse. The horror, huh? And it wasn’t like I wouldn’t have been more than willing to go do the shopping and errands, but Finley was adamant about the ‘help,’ as he called them, doing what they were paid to do.”
A wistfully sad smile crossed her face when she remembered how kind Lola had been to her when she’d discovered her crying in the pantry because she couldn’t find the can opener.
It had been a situational breakdown just a month after she’d found out about Fin’s first affair. One of those “straw that broke the camel’s back” deals. Her fears and her overactive imagination had all ganged up on her at once, and she’d taken her frustrations out by openly weeping over her inability to locate a simple can opener.
Lola’s sympathetic smile and offer to make her a cake couldn’t completely hide the pity in her eyes. That was when Maxine knew that everyone but her was aware of Fin’s need to discover if the Fountain of Youth really was inside the vagina of a twenty-year-old.
Everyone Finley employed knew he’d stepped out behind her back. How pathetic she must’ve appeared. Poor, dim-witted Finley Cambridge’s wife. Forgotten head cheerleader of the Riverbend Rams and ex-small-time beauty queen.
But not anymore. A big squee to that.
Maxine’s cheeks sprouted two red spots at the recollection, spurring her determination to understand this crazy new world of coupon-clipping and buying ground beef in bulk.
Rubbing her hands together, she eyed Gail and her mother. “Okay, ladies. So my secret’s out. I don’t know thing one about Walmart, but I’ve got my list and two weeks’ worth of scooping poop in cold hard cash. Let’s get it on.”
Stomping off down the first aisle that grabbed her attention, she held up her list like it was a she-warrior’s guide to the galaxy. Her eyes glazed over with each aisle she traipsed through. This was a Candy Land of gadgets and doodads the likes of which she hadn’t seen in a long time.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
They even had Sno Balls.
The pink ones.
In bulk!
Two hours later, Max found herself enraptured, enthralled, enthusiastically sick with the kind of joy she was garnering from ticking items off her list. Items she was purchasing with
her
money.
her
money.
“Omigod, Ma! Looook!” she squealed, ignoring the inquiring stay-at-home moms turning toward her in clusters of frayed ponytails. “I found tampons. They’re the good ones, too. The ones for heavy-flow days. Two boxes for five dollars!” She grinned, pride beaming on her face as she waved the boxes at her mother. They qualified as a necessity, and better still, they fit into her budget. Two boxes of tampons would last her at least four months.
Oh, happy period.
Her mother leaned over the cart and whispered out of the side of her mouth with a harsh snap, “Maxie?”
Distracted by the shiny display of bags and bags of Snickers bars, Maxine muttered, “What?”
“Stop it. You’re making a scene. It’s
Walmart
, Maxie. Not Diane von Furstaface.” Giving her a sideways glance, Mona frowned. “People are giving us funny looks.”
Walmart
, Maxie. Not Diane von Furstaface.” Giving her a sideways glance, Mona frowned. “People are giving us funny looks.”
“It’s Furstenberg, and they’re giving us funny looks because you still have a roller in your hair, Mom.” Maxine plucked at the pink cushiony curler.
Mona waved her off, snatching the curler from her and dropping it in her suitcase-sized purse. “No. It’s because you’re behaving like you just found the answer to the meaning of life. It’s
Walmart
. Nobody gets excited about Walmart.”
Walmart
. Nobody gets excited about Walmart.”
Gail shuffled up behind them and snorted. “I do. It’s my one chance to get out and commune with discount coupons and cheap lingerie.”
Maxine’s eyes lit up when she squeezed Gail’s arm. “They have lingerie, too?” she gasped with a coo. “Oh, show me!”
“Maxie!” her mother whisper-yelled, grabbing on to the sleeve of her shirt. “Pipe down. It’s not the kind of lingerie you’re used to. It’s made of cheap material, and besides that, you can’t afford lingerie. Now stick to the things on your list or you’ll never learn how to budget properly.” Redirecting the cart, her mother gave it an exasperated shove toward the food section of the store. “We’re here for essentials, Maxine. Not frillies,” she harrumphed.
Maxine looked at Gail, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans with defeat, her shoulders slumping as they trudged behind Mona. “What a killjoy she is, huh?”
“A real harsh to your buzz.” Gail cackled at her clever use of the slang Connor’d been teaching her. “But she’s right, you know. You have to learn how to shop with limits so you and the boy can survive.”
“Yeah,” she admitted with stoicism. “Limits suck.”
Gail nodded her shortly cropped head. “That they do, but you’ll get used to ’em.”
Linking her arm with Gail’s, she pulled her close and whispered with a covert glance to her mother’s plaid back, “Do they
really
have lingerie here?”
really
have lingerie here?”
“Maxine!” her mother called over her shoulder. “Focus, miss. We’re here for lima beans and boneless chicken breast for a dollar ninety-nine a pound. You can’t feed Connor jazzy polyester pj’s.”
Maxine stuck her tongue out at her mother’s back.
Gail snorted, lining up behind Mona to unload their purchases.
Maxine jumped ahead to the front of the line, digging through her purse for the cash she’d saved. As the cashier rang each item up, she watched the tally with hawk-like eyes.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized she’d stuck to her budget.
“Fifty-eight sixty-one,” the cashier said, boredom lacing her tone.
Maxine handed her the money, and couldn’t help but ask, “Do you like working here?”
The young woman’s eyes rolled up into her smooth forehead. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Who actually likes working here?”
Maxine felt a ruffle of one of her feathers. “You get a steady paycheck, don’t you?”
“So?” She shrugged with a “big deal” attitude.
So? “So, that’s a valuable thing in today’s economy, don’t you think?”
Her clear green eyes held Maxine’s for a moment, very clearly searching for the crazy in them. “Whatever.”
Whatever? What-ev-er? How could someone be so nonchalant about something as important as a regular paycheck? “You don’t know how lucky you are,” Maxine couldn’t help but mention, her tone condescending. Worse, she knew it. Heard it, justifying her indignation with the notion that she’d kill to have a job like this one, and someone needed to hear about it.
“Yeah. I feel real
lucky
.” She chewed her gum, stopping only to blow a bubble as she put the money in the register.
lucky
.” She chewed her gum, stopping only to blow a bubble as she put the money in the register.
What an ungrateful little . . . “Yeah, that’s right. I said
lucky
.” Maxine tapped her fingernail on the small ledge housing the debit card machine. “You have no idea how fortunate you are to have a steady income to pay the bills. Do you have any idea how you’re taking your youth for granted? You could be like me, you know. Almost forty-one years old, the divorce from hell on your back, and no job at all. So when you roll out of bed tomorrow, count your lucky stars you have a job just like this, young lady!” Spittle flew from Maxine’s mouth, she was so infuriated by this youngster’s ungrateful arrogance. Heads turned in every which way from the checkout aisles at her righteously indignant speech.
lucky
.” Maxine tapped her fingernail on the small ledge housing the debit card machine. “You have no idea how fortunate you are to have a steady income to pay the bills. Do you have any idea how you’re taking your youth for granted? You could be like me, you know. Almost forty-one years old, the divorce from hell on your back, and no job at all. So when you roll out of bed tomorrow, count your lucky stars you have a job just like this, young lady!” Spittle flew from Maxine’s mouth, she was so infuriated by this youngster’s ungrateful arrogance. Heads turned in every which way from the checkout aisles at her righteously indignant speech.
Her mother stuck a tissue under Maxine’s nose with a snarl. “Maxie! Wipe your mouth and pipe down. It isn’t your job to lecture every teenager from here to Secaucus about their good fortune. Take your change and let’s go.”
Maxine’s haze of anger instantly lifted. She glanced at Gail as they pushed the cart out of the checkout aisle, her mother twenty paces ahead, the angry stomp of her orthopedic shoes slapping against the dirty tile floor. “Too much?” she asked with a hesitant wince.
“Uh, yeah. I think you’ve gone overboard with the empowered-woman stuff. You don’t have to stake your claim everywhere you go, toots. People don’t really care that you just bought your own tampons with money you slaved over bingo and poop for. These are people who do that every day and only dream about the kind of money you and the Talleywhacker had. Their joy about earning minimum wage, even with benefits, evaporated when they found out how many doubles they’d have to pull to make ends meet.”
“Sorry,” Maxine mumbled, running a hand through her mussed hair. “I got carried away. But she’s so missing the point, and so ungrateful. I just wanted to—”
Gail held up a hand to halt her protest. “I get it, kiddo. But in this particular case, less is more.”
She shoved her change into the pocket of her jeans with a sheepish apology on her face, looping her arm through Gail’s. “I promise to stay on the down low with impassioned speeches to teenaged girls about experiencing life before marrying a talleywhacker.”
Gail gave her a critical eye as they made their way out into the hot parking lot. “So I hear tell you got yourself a date with that good-lookin’ Campbell.”
“It’s not really a date. Just coffee.”
Oh, it is not, Maxine. It’s like an epic event. Like being invited to the Oscars or something, and you know it. Quit downplaying your giddy joy.
Oh, it is not, Maxine. It’s like an epic event. Like being invited to the Oscars or something, and you know it. Quit downplaying your giddy joy.
Gail spoke Maxine’s very thoughts. “It’s okay to be excited about being asked out by a nice-lookin’ boy, honey. You can bet your sweet bippy I’d be excited if somebody that handsome asked me out. Now look,” she muttered, reaching into her purse to rummage and pulling out a small Walmart bag. “This is for you. So you can get your pretty on tonight for Campbell.” She held up a tube of lipstick, shiny-silver in the mid-morning sun.
Tears sprang to Maxine’s eyes. It was the lipstick she’d been eyeballing while she’d waffled over whether she could afford it or not. Deciding the extra five dollars wasn’t in her budget, she’d regretfully put it back and moved on. “Oh, Gail,” she squealed, hugging her. “Thank you. I’m pretty sure Campbell will thank you, too.”
She reached up to pat Maxine’s cheek with affection. “You wear it well, honey, and have a good time tonight. Try to relax and just be yourself. I used to be quite the looker. Had plenty of dates in my time before I married Lamar. I know what I’m talkin’ about.”
With a snatch of her fingers, she opened the door for her mother, then Gail, hoping they couldn’t see the tremble of her fingers at the mention of her pending date with Campbell. She slid into the backseat, pressing a hand to her nervous belly.
She’d been possessed by an idiot to accept a date with him last night. In the cold light of the early morning, while she’d gagged down coffee and a piece of dry toast, her stomach had reminded her of her idiocy.
In stereo.
The lipstick in her open purse caught her eye, twinkling like a treasure nestled amongst the crumpled tissues.
Well, even if she was an idiot, she’d be an idiot with luscious Baby Boysenberry lips.
Maxine eyed Connor from across the dinner table as they finished up the last of the pot roast her mother had made. Hers still swam in the congealed brown gravy, uneaten due to her anxious stomach. “So you’re sure you’re okay with this?” she asked in reference to her “just a cup of meaningless coffee” date with Campbell. “Because if you’re not, just say the word and it’s off.”
Mona grunted, wiping her mouth with a yellow paper napkin. “The boy would be a convenient scapegoat, Maxie.”
Connor stretched his arms, giving his grandmother a conspiratorial smile. “It’s okay, Gram. I watch those talk shows with you. I know it’s healthy and encouraged for a woman in her forties to begin to date again after ending a long relationship.”
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