Talk of the Town (3 page)

Myrtle flopped herself on the bed and patted the mattress. “Damn hard to get these sheets. I have three sets a gal in town handmade for me.” She jumped up and smoothed out the coverlet. “Okay, then, here’s the house rules. If ya got a guy up here, hang yer brassiere on the doorknob. I’ll do the same on my door. That’s a sign for one of us to get to the movies for a few hours. Got it?” Myrtle winked.

“Yes, ma’am. Myrtle, you’re a wild woman.” Kelly swung her suitcase up on the bed and left Raymond’s briefcase on the floor. She’d have to find that case a hiding place. “When are we going to see the town?” Kelly yawned as she spoke.

“Seems to me you missed a whole lot of sleep drivin’ from L.A. How ’bout you have a rest? I’ll wake you up for supper, and we’ll see the whole dang town tomorrow. We’ll have a regular Monday mornin’ outing.”

Kelly’s brain was fuzzing out. She yawned again and stripped off her leather jacket. Myrtle backed out the bedroom door, waving. Kelly gave Raymond’s case a shove with her foot, sliding it under the bed.

She slowly took all her clothes off, pushed her suitcase onto the floor, and fell into the smooth
pink sheets of Myrtle’s round bed. As she drifted off, she thought she heard Hawaiian music from somewhere in the distance.

Heaven. She was in…Paradise.

Kelly opened her eyes to morning sun outlining the edges of a pull-down shade like a solar eclipse. Myrtle hadn’t called her for dinner, that was for sure. She surveyed her surroundings slowly. This wasn’t the paradise she’d imagined waking up in this morning. That had more to do with white sand beaches. Of course, she also could have been waking up in a Jamaican jail with her charming husband. She sucked air in through her nose and tried to breathe out the ball of anger in her chest. She was furious with Raymond.

Pitching the covers off, she planted her feet on the furry white carpet.
To hell with it.
She’d just be angry. Kelly grabbed up her suitcase, smacked it down on the bed, and unzipped it. What angry little thing could she put on?

She’d go for her James Dean look. Black jeans and a white T-shirt plus her black leather cropped jacket. But the boots were out. She dug for a pair of black sandals that were walkable.

There was a beautiful blue-painted dressing table on one side of the room, between the two sun-edged windows. She sat down in front of the
mirror and ran her fingers through the shock of black hair on her head. That just made the spikes stand up in a more vertical direction.

Kelly clutched her folded clothes in front of her naked body and gazed into the mirror. Where had all the hard edges come from? She was thin. Maybe too thin. Her bones seemed more angular than she remembered.

“Honey, are you awake? I heard creaking floorboards,” Myrtle’s voice came softly from the other side of the door.

“I’m awake, but I’m naked as a jaybird,” Kelly answered. She didn’t move from her perch on the vanity’s upholstered bench seat. Funny how she felt so much trust toward a woman she’d only met yesterday.

Myrtle snickered. “There’s clean towels for ya in the upstairs bath. Oh, and a robe on the hook in the closet in there. You get scrubbed up, I’ll make us some breakfast.”

Kelly heard Myrtle clomp down the stairs.

She took one more look into the mirror and got up to grab the robe. A shower would help. Even the thought of it gave her a more orderly feeling.

She took a moment and pulled up the covers on the round bed, smoothed it flat, and plumped the pillows around. In the small closet she found a Hawaiian cotton robe on a hook. Pulling it
around her, she headed for the bathroom, grabbing up her clothes as she went out the door.

She hadn’t noticed some of the more quirky details of the bathroom yesterday during the tour. The walls were papered in a photo enlargement of a beautiful Hawaiian beach. The claw-footed tub had a bright blue and green shower enclosure with 3-D fish swimming all over it. The soaps were all shaped like seashells, and the bathroom mirror was framed in pretty pink and white shells. There was a mermaid on the hand towel.

It all made her smile. She was forgetting to be angry. She’d have to work into it again.

Kelly took a long, hot shower. The power of hot water and soap to set you right was awesome. She washed her hair in Myrtle’s Green Apple shampoo. When she was all rinsed off, she toweled dry and dressed in her James Dean clothes.

The thick, white, sleeveless T-shirt felt comforting for some reason. Clothes were like that for her. Probably because there’d been little else to comfort her most of her life. Better a cotton shirt than drugs, anyhow.

Bacon. She smelled bacon. Wow.

Downstairs Myrtle had scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice, and real—not from a turkey—bacon all ready for her.

“Mmmm, I love you, Myrtle. Will you marry me?” Kelly pulled up a chair and pulled the aroma of her breakfast up into her head. She was starved.

“Nope, my marrying days are over. I’m retired.”

“Then let’s just shack up.”

“You got that right. Two wild women. We’ll just rename the place ‘Love Shack.’” Myrtle served her own plate up, turned off the stove, and sat across from Kelly. “Ready for the grand tour of Paradise?”

“Just let me get some bacon under my belt, and I’ll be ready for anything,” Kelly answered. She dove into her breakfast with gusto. Man, this was a huge improvement over the standard coffee and donut she’d been doing forever. Her body probably didn’t know what to do with actual protein.

The ten o’clock air was October clear, like amber. Kelly and Myrtle walked down Jewel Street, two rows of older houses with green patch lawns.

Kelly took inventory of lawn ornaments. There were five gnomes of various extraction, one spinning daisy, and two pink flamingos. The flowerbeds were filled with petunias and snapdragons in the last blooms of fall. Chrysanthemums yellowed up most of the garden borders. The neighborhood must have all gone to the same sale on that one.

People waved from their porches as Kelly and Myrtle walked by. Kelly took care to check out the little houses close to town. There were sev
eral for sale. She hummed as they turned toward Main Street.

Paradise was in a time warp. They were in a 1950s Brigadoon. A town that undoubtedly only appeared every fifty years because of a curse put on it during a drag race by the loser’s girlfriend. Peggy Sue got even.

“Purt’near the same as it was in 1952. Eerie, isn’t it?” Myrtle pointed down the row of businesses.

“You ain’t just kiddin’, there, Myrtle,” Kelly answered.

Crossing the street, they passed Robert’s Jewelers, Esther’s Fabrics, and approached Miller’s Hardware. Huge flowering baskets resplendent with fall color hung from the streetlamps.

A big man with gray hair, wearing overalls and a plaid flannel shirt, was out in front of Miller’s sweeping the sidewalk. He smiled as they came near, handing out g’mornin’s as he kept up the rhythm of his broom.

“Hey, Red. How’s Betty?”

“She’s up to her elbows in the church social, Myrtle. Thank the Lord it’s this weekend. Then maybe I’ll get a proper dinner again.”

“Red, honey, a little Lean Cuisine never killed anyone. I bet you’re a whiz at the microwave.” Myrtle waved ’bye to Red as they passed.

Did they really have microwaves here? Kelly
stopped and stared in the hardware store window. They had the coolest stuff she’d seen in years: Martha’s green dishes at totally unhip low prices, a wood-sided Radio Flyer wagon full of gardening supplies, and pumpkins—lots of pumpkins. There was even a real eggbeater—a hand-crank spinner—sitting in a thick white crockery bowl.

She was going to stick out in this hick town like an alien from Mars. “Who am I, Myrtle? What’s my cover?”

“Hmm. That’s a good one. I s’pose there is a chance that dumb-ass husband of yours might be on the search. How about you be some distant relative of mine? My brother-in-law’s daughter was a wild hair. You could be her kid. Kelly Crabtree.”

“Wouldn’t she have married and have some other name?”

“Naa, she’s a free spirit, like me. But that’s too easy, and too traceable. Let’s just say you’re my long-lost second cousin.” Myrtle caught her arm. “C’mon, cousin.”

There she was again. In jeans. In person. Live. Going into Cora’s. Where he was going. Steady, man, you’re getting java and a muffin just like every day.

Oh, damn. She was extremely sexy. Wild black
hair, tight jeans, black leather jacket. Her toenails were painted bright orange, and a silver toe ring glinted back at him.

“Hi, Sam. How are you this beautiful fall morning?” The face of Lynnette Stivers blotted out his view. She was her perfectly perky blonde self. Except that she was talking to him through gritted teeth.

“Just fine, Lynnette. Just catching a coffee break.” Translation:
Please move your perky ass and let me get my caffeine
. It occurred to Sam that since he came here almost every day at this time, it wasn’t an accident bumping into Lynnette.

“Are you going to the church social Saturday? I’m baking up a dozen peach pies. You know, the ones with the pecans that you just love so much?”

“I’ve been commandeered by Dottie Williamson to transport potato salad. I’m sure I’ll see you there,” Sam said as flatly as possible, keeping all hint of invitation or any ol’ hint out of his voice. From the look on her face it didn’t quite work as well as he’d wished.

“That’ll be just fine, Sam. I’ll save a space on my dance card for you.” Lynnette did smooth talk so well.

Translation:
I’m gonna get you hog-tied, Sam Grayson, one way or another.
Sam shuddered.

“I’ve got to get back to work. I’m sure we’ll
run into each other.” Sam wove and dodged and managed to get by her; red plaid pleated skirt, white blouse, and all.

And there he stood, smack in the middle between Lynnette and the Hot One. His head turned a couple times back and forth slowly.

“Usual, Sam?” Cora saved him.

“Yep. Coffee. Blueberry.” Cora knew that. He handed her his travel cup. She smirked at him.

“Sam Grayson, meet my second cousin, Kelly. Ain’t she somethin’?” Myrtle gave the Hot One a small push in his direction.

Yeah, she was something, all right. Sam stuck out his hand. “Hey, Kelly, I’m Sam.”
Oh, brilliant.

Her hand came toward him slow and easy. Her eyes never left his. They were like cat’s eyes: hazel green, pale, and huge. When their flesh came together it was like he’d touched her bare breast instead of her hand. Pure heat whip-cracked between them. Hurricane Kelly.

“Sam.”

Her voice was velvet. Smooth black velvet. Twenty-year-old scotch velvet. He wanted to drink her.

Why did the universe torture him this way? What had he ever done to deserve this? He should be getting the big bone over Plaid Skirt Lynnette. She’d wash his underwear and cook
peach frikkin’ pie and keep his kids’ noses wiped. She would.

This one would only break him. She’d run up his credit cards. She’d be incredible in bed and toy with his…affections. She was probably hiding out from the mob. She had tattoos. Right up her leg. And a toe ring.

“Sam.” It wasn’t Velvet Voice. It was Cora handing him a paper bag and his travel mug full of coffee. He let go of Kelly’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Kelly, are you staying in town long?” Witty repartee. Translation:
Can I just take you to my place and get this out of my system right NOW?
Sam fumbled with his cup and bag. He dove into the hazel green cat’s eyes again. What a swim.

“She’ll be shacked up at my place if you’d like to pay a social call, Sammy.” Myrtle put her arm around the Kelly girl. Myrtle had on a bright orange jogging suit. They looked very Halloween together. Orange and black.

Sam felt two holes burning into the back of his neck. He turned. Lynnette had hands on hips and a quirky look about her. Time to get outta Dodge.

He nodded to Kelly and Myrtle and steeled himself as he bravely walked past Lynnette. She moved her elbow like a turnstile as he passed.

Her eyes never left him, which took quite a head twist. No translation available.

Man, that was one good-looking small-town hunk. He was probably wearing the only suit in town. He probably
owned
the only suit in town. Kelly thumped down on a counter stool, shaken.

“Coffee, please.”

Myrtle joined her. “Make it two, Cora,” she said.

Kelly watched him push the glass door open as he exited. The blonde chick in the red plaid started to follow him out, then changed her mind, turned, and stood by the pie case. Both Kelly and the blonde watched Sam’s handsome figure go past the window outside.

“Would you like that to go, Kelly?” The lady behind the counter started laughing real hard. Myrtle did, too.

“Naa, we’re gonna play hard to get on this one.” Myrtle slapped the counter and laughed the no-sound laugh.

“Listen…Cora”—Kelly had cocked her head and read the embroidered script sewn on the pink and white waitress uniform—“and Myrtle. I’m not interested in Mr. Wonderful. I’m sure there’s some nice local girl just up his alley.”

“That would be me, Miss…I didn’t catch your name?”

Kelly hadn’t noticed the blonde come her way.

“Kelly A-A-A-Applebee.” Oh, good one. She really was Myrtle’s cousin now. Crabtree and Applebee. Sounded like a jam and jelly company.

“Just so we’re clear on this, Miss Applebee, Sam and I have been dating since high school. Why, we even went to the senior prom together, if you get my drift.”

“And I should know this because why?” Kelly knew a controlling, crazy bitch when she saw one. She might be dumb on men, but women were clear as glass. She couldn’t let this catfight go by.

Blondie bent forward toward Kelly. Kelly saw a crazy glint in those steel blue eyes. Her words came out one at a time with great emphasis. “
Because-he’s-mine.
”

Cora rattled a thick white cup and saucer onto the counter in front of Kelly. Kelly’s eyes broke contact for a moment. The cup had thin green stripes around the top. “Cream and sugar?” Cora’s face was pink with suppressed glee.

Kelly moved her gaze back to Psycho-Blonde’s face with a very big, very fake, smile. Her stare never wavered from those slightly too-close-together blue eyes. “I’ll have it all, please.”

“Run along, now, Lynnette, Cousin Kelly and I have some catchin’ up to do.” Myrtle turned to her coffee and started pouring in sugar from the
glass container with the chrome spout that Cora slid their way.

Kelly watched Lynnette turn about as white as her blouse. She straightened up stiffly, turned, and marched herself out the door with her ponytail swinging like the tail of a mad cat.

Kelly drank her coffee with some kind of weird satisfaction. It went down smooth and smug.

“Damn, that girl is nuts, Myrtle,” Kelly said.

“Yup,” Myrtle replied.

Cora leaned in close. Her hair was cornrowed on each side and probably dyed dark brown to hide the gray. No doubt some of Myrtle’s handiwork. Her brown skin was still pretty and smooth. She must have been about sixty-five and was still beautiful, really beautiful. She reached across the counter and refilled Kelly’s coffee.

That refill came with dirt on the side.

“When Sam got engaged to that girl in Philly, Lynnette climbed up on the high school water tower in her baby-doll pajamas and tried to scrub their initials off with Comet. Sheriff had to pull her down. Most excitement we’d had around here for a long time. Course, Sheriff Tom’s been in love with her since they were juniors at Paradise High, y’know.” Cora put her free hand on her hip and smiled.

That was one big-ass, streaming video piece of
gossip. Small towns were great that way. “No shit? Oh, pardon me,” Kelly said.

“You are pardoned, dear,” Cora continued. “Then she went after Sam like a bitch in heat when he got back in town a few months ago. We all figure he turned her down, ’cause she’s been prowlin’ around him ever since, but he acts like she’s a case of the measles.”

“Who the hell is Sam, anyhow? Besides the best-looking man I’ve laid eyes on in ten years?” Kelly slurped up some coffee and dished with the gals. She reached for a donut off the plate Cora had left on the counter at some point. It was still warm.

Myrtle waved a spoon in among the three of them like a witch stirring her cauldron. “He’s the son of two of Paradise’s best people. His father has had a law practice here for thirty years. Sam came back and joined the firm.”

So what the hell was a vital, handsome guy like Sam doing back in this stuck-water town? Inquiring Kelly wanted to know, but that’d be rude. It was their stuck-water town, too. She dipped her donut into the steamy coffee, which Cora seem to refill magically without her even seeing. Man, the food in this town was good.

Myrtle answered Kelly’s question before she had a chance to ask it. “His fiancée in Philly, they broke up. Then she got into some kind of trouble
and ended up in court, and he ended up defending her, but she went off to jail for a few months anyhow. I think he just got fed up with city ways and came back here to have a wife. Oh, a life, I mean.”

Myrtle’s eyes kind of rolled around to Cora. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, hiding a grin that Kelly could see quite well. Cora straightened up, nodded meaningfully at Myrtle, and went on down the row filling coffee cups.

“You should hear that woman sing.” Myrtle changed the subject.

“I know what you’re up to, Myrtle,” said Kelly. “Let us not forget a few minor details. One, I’m still married. Two, I’m so not in the mood to be anyone’s wife. Most likely if I’m attracted to a man, he’s got some secret personality flaw that will rear its ugly head as soon as I say those two fateful words—
I do.
So I don’t. Are we clear on that, Mrs. Crabtree?”

“Clear as mud, Miss
Applebee
. ’Nuther donut?”

“Don’t mind if I do. Chocolate sprinkles, please.”

“So you’re attracted to Sam?”

“Quit it, Myrtle.”

The smell of perm solution drifted up to Kelly’s second-story bedroom and woke her. A decidedly unaromatherapy kind of thing. She was getting used to it by now. Just for fun she and Myrtle had draped tropical mosquito netting dotted with silk plumeria blossoms from the ceiling. Kelly pushed it aside, then scuffed her feet into a pair of rubber thongs.

She’d had a hell of a fun week. Myrtle was a shoo-in for mother replacement. Kelly’s own mother had never done much of a job of it anyway, even when she was sober.

Myrtle said Kelly was the daughter she never had, and the cosmos sent her so Myrtle could finally pass down all her life secrets to someone.

All this week she’d luxuriated in the tub at night with lavender bath oil and a good book. Myrtle supplied her with every beautifying, smellifying product under the sun. It’d started to take the edge off of her life, all that warm water and fragrance.

Kelly showered and shimmied into her new red three-quarter-sleeved crop top and its matching spandex skirt. Finger-combing her gelled-up hair into its usual crazy style, she caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror. Still too thin, but damn, she looked good in red.

Kelly had a new job. In less than a week she’d gotten a job. Try doing that in L.A. Palmer’s Emporium needed sales help. She suspected Myrtle pulled a few strings, but that was fine. New job, new town, she was almost…happy. She put on her red Carmen Miranda’s Hot Date lipstick. After this she wanted to get a job naming lipstick. And paint. She’d painted one wall of the beauty parlor Tickle Me Pink when she couldn’t sleep one night earlier in the week.