Fifty is the New F-Word

by Margaret Lashley

  “Laverne, Tom found that ring and gave it to me. Do you think that means that he’s...that we’re bad luck together? I mean, what are the odds that a girl who was found on the side of the road would be given an engagement ring that her boyfriend found on the side of the road?”

  Laverne cocked her horsey head. “I don’t think Tom’s to blame, Val. It’s the ring. And you.”

  “What do you mean, me?” I said, on the defensive. “You’re the one who brought this ring into our lives in the first place.”

  Laverne winced. “That’s true, and I’m sorry, honey. I don’t know if it’s too late to save Cold Cuts or not. But Val, it’s not too late to save yourself.”

  “From the curse of Vendaygo?”

  “From the curse of yourself.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Honey, you’re so afraid of making a mistake you don’t know a good thing when it’s staring you in the face.”

  I blew out a heavy sigh. “Not this again.”

  “Yes, this again,” Laverne snapped. “Because you still haven’t got it. I used to be like you, Val. I had a list of what my prince charming had to be to meet my criteria. Rich. Good looking. Generous. Loyal. And a firm backside.”

  Laverne swatted her own bottom for emphasis.

  “So?” I muttered.

  “One day I realized, if I ever met the guy who had everything I wanted, I’d be scared wit-less of him. He’d be too good for me!”

  I pursed my doubting lips. “Is there a point to all this?”

  “Take my advice, honey. A laundry list of stuff won’t make love work. In the end, all love comes down to is whether you can stand the way a man chews his cornflakes in the morning.”

  I burst into tears. “I’m too picky, Laverne! I’ll never be happy!”

  “Oh, honey! Now don’t give up on being happy. I’m just saying give up on perfection. Including your own.” She wiped a tear from my face. “Trust me. It’ll never happen.”

  I sniffed. “Laverne, do you think if you had loved Vinnie, the ring wouldn’t have been cursed?”

  Laverne cocked her head to think. “Maybe. But you love Tom, and look what happened when you wore it.”

  “That’s true.” I flopped on the couch. “Wait. Oh my lord, Laverne!”

  “What?” Laverne ran over and sat beside me. “Are you okay, honey?”

  “I just realized something. All those bad things that happened. They happened when I wasn’t wearing the ring.”

  Laverne cocked her horsey head. “Huh?”

  “Think about it. I wasn’t wearing the ring at the resort when Cold Cuts disappeared. It was in the garbage disposal, remember?”

  Laverne’s hand flew to her mouth. “My word! That’s right!”

  “I wasn’t wearing it when the tornado hit. Or when I got kicked in the head with a manikin leg. Or when I was attacked by crickets.”

  “Crickets?” Laverne asked.

  “And when Tom and I had our fight and broke up...I wasn’t wearing the ring.”

  “Honey, maybe that ring has the opposite effect on you,” Laverne said. “Maybe it takes away your bad luck when you wear it, because....” Laverne caught herself and stopped mid-sentence.

  “Because my usual luck is for crap, right?”

  Laverne shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

  “You may have a point, there, Laverne. Thank you.” I leaned over and searched through the debris on the coffee table until I found the ring. I slipped it on my finger. “I think I’ll test my luck,” I said.

  Laverne smiled and hugged me. “Then I’ll leave you to it, honey. I’m rooting for you.”

  I watched Laverne and her gold high heels go out the door, then through the yard back toward her house. I shut the door behind her, then picked up my cellphone and swallowed hard. I hit speed dial #7, for Tom, and listened as it ring. He didn’t pick up. His strong, kind voice on the recording, invited me to leave a message after the beep.

  I squeezed my words out around the huge lump in my throat. “Tom? If it’s not too late...I want you, too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It was hard to believe only five days had passed since life as I’d known it had been blown apart. I’d waited by the phone, but Tom didn’t call that night. At midnight, I’d given up and drowned my rejection in a bottle of red wine and the remains of a leftover pizza. Then I’d limped to bed for the first time in years without brushing my teeth or washing my face.

  I woke up the next morning with breath so bad I disgusted myself. I checked for a phone message from Tom. Nothing. I was putting the phone back on the nightstand when it rang in my hand.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, honey!” Laverne’s cheerful voice reverberated in my hungover head like a ricocheted bullet.

  “Hi,” I croaked.

  “Should I pick you up for the party?”

  “What party?”

  “Jorge’s celebration party. At Caddy’s.”

  “Oh. I don’t know...I don’t –”

  “What’s wrong? Didn’t you work it out with Tom last night?”

  “I called and left a message. He didn’t call back.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’ll be there, Laverne. At the party.”

  “Sure he will, honey. But you’re going to have to face it sometime. Life goes on.”

  “For some of us, I guess. But I can’t go. I’m a total wreck.”

  “I can help you out with that. I’ll be right over.”

  “But –” Laverne clicked off the phone. I looked at the clock. It was 10:57 a.m. Geeze. I’d slept half the day away.

  Crap on a cracker! I forgot to call Mr. Charles to let him know the latest!

  I dialed the number and waited for the recorder to beep. “Mr. Charles? Bill Robo is actually William F. Rockbottom, IV. He has a history of kidnapping, but his father could have been the one – it’s complicated. Call me.”

  IN MY DEFENSE, I DIDN’T have the will power to resist Laverne’s fashion assault. My mind had been clouded with thoughts of Cold Cuts and Tom, and I hadn’t realized Laverne had been teasing my hair until it was already the size of a basketball. I patted at my afro while she decked me out in the full Vegas-style makeup treatment.

  One look in the bathroom mirror and I gave up on any thought of personal dignity. When Laverne came at me with a red sweater she’d brought from her private collection, I’d thought, what the hell. I slipped it on over my jeans. It was the perfect complement. I looked like a clown that had narrowly escaped an explosion at a rhinestone factory.

  “You look gorgeous,” Laverne said. “You’ll knock Tom’s socks off in that!”

  “Unless he’s not wearing any,” I said, and smiled weakly. I twisted the ring on my finger. I couldn’t decide whether to wear it or not. Would it tick Tom off if I did? Or would it help break the iceberg between us?

  “Let’s get going, honey,” Laverne said, and gathered up her pile of makeup tubes and bottles and compacts. “I don’t want to be late.”

  “It’s not like we have to be there on the dot,” I argued.

  “Yes we do,” Laverne said. “I made the cake.”

  My gut gurgled involuntarily. “Well, in that case, let’s get this party started.”

  “Why are they holding it at that old shack Caddy’s?” Laverne asked as we went out the front door.

  “Well, it’s kind of fitting, Laverne. “That’s where the guys and I all met. You know, because of Glad.”

  “Oh,” Laverne said, and winked at me. “Well then, that makes it the perfect place for you all to get back together again, too.”

  WHEN I WALKED ONTO the open air porch at Caddy’s with Laverne, the jovial, carefree atmosphere dried up like a piss in the desert. I couldn’t tell if everyone was shocked to silence by my appearance or the sight of Laverne’s cake.

  “She’s gone and done done it again,” Winky said, his voice hollow and husky as if he’d been punched in the gut.


  “I think she looks fine,” Winnie said, and elbowed Winky in the ribs.

  “Huh?” Winky grunted. “That ain’t what I’m talk –”

  “Congratulations, Jorge!” I said, and set the cake on a picnic table. “Beautiful day for a party!”

  Jorge looked up at the blue sky and grinned. “It sure is.”

  Music started playing over the bar’s stereo. “This really is my lucky day, I guess,” Jorge said. “’Cause they’re playing my favorite song. I feel like dancing!”

  “Then let’s dance,” I said. I set my purse beside the cake, and took Jorge’s hand. “I’m so proud of you, Jorge.”

  “Thanks. You know, you’re looking pretty fancy for a little beach party.”

  I wiggled my butt. “It’s shake and quake, and Laverne helped.”

  “Oh,” Jorge laughed. “That explains it.”

  “Anyway, this isn’t just some little beach party. It’s a celebration of your new start, Jorge. You’ve got a whole new life ahead of you!”

  Jorge twirled me around. I tripped on my feet and spun right into Tom.

  “Ooops! I’m so sorry,” I said, before I knew it was him.

  “Just watch yourself,” he said. He set me back on my feet and marched toward Goober and the rest of the gang.

  I tried to resume my dance with Jorge, but I’d lost my rhythm. “Do you mind if we stop?” I asked Jorge. “I’m just not....”

  “Jes, I do,” Jorge answered. He grabbed my hand and pulled me close, then twirled me around again like a professional tango dancer.

  “Wow! You’re a pretty good dancer,” I said.

  “Val, when Winky shot me in the face with that water gun, it made me question my dream of being a policeman again. But I didn’t give up. I got through it, and I feel more confident than I have in forever. You and Tom. You’ll work it out. You’ll get through it, too.”

  “I dunno, Jorge. Your future’s looking bright. Mine’s going down the drain.”

  “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.”

  The song ended.

  “It’s over,” I said.

  Jorge shrugged and let me go. We joined the group sitting around the picnic table. The sun was shining bright on their faces, but instead of being festive, the atmosphere felt more like a funeral dirge. The dour faces eyeballing Laverne’s cake made me a tear escape down my cheek.

  “I...I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”

  “That time of month?” Winky deadpanned.

  “Or maybe it’s ‘the change,’ Goober said. “You know, fifty is the new f-word, after all.”

  “You boys stop teasing Val,” Laverne said. She turned to me, “There’s nothing wrong with you honey. You’re just like a lot of women out there. The only thing you’ve lost is your confidence.”

  My face felt as if it had caught fire. I wanted to disappear. I grabbed my purse, then realized I’d ridden over with Laverne. I couldn’t escape, so I ran to the ladies room. One look in the mirror and I was almost too embarrassed to call a cab. My phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  What I heard next made me forget my insignificant little problems. I marched out of the ladies room. Tom was coming out of the men’s room at the exact same moment.

  “Tom!” I said. “I need –”

  His sea-green eyes brewed like a storm. “What do you want me to do for you this time, if it’s not too late?”

  I swallowed my pride. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. “Just one more thing, please. I need you to go with me to the morgue. My friend Darren called. He said Cold Cuts’ body just turned up there.”

  “Aww crap, Val,” Tom said. He looked over at the group. “There’s no point in spoiling Jorge’s party right now. Follow me to my car.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  It was the longest fifteen-minute ride of my life. Inside the SUV, the space between Tom and me was crammed to capacity with unsaid words and melancholy memories. Why was it so hard to put our differences aside? I was wasting my life. But Cold Cuts no longer had a life to waste.

  When we pulled into the parking lot of the county morgue, I nearly screamed. Parked by the front entrance was Glad’s old RV.

  “What’s going on? Did that butcher bring her back?” I asked.

  “Nothing would surprise me anymore,” Tom spat.

  A man got out of the RV and walked toward the front door of the building.

  “That’s him!” I screeched. “That’s Bill Robo!”

  Tom nearly kicked his door open. He ran like a quarterback up to the man and tackled him from behind. Tom had Robo pinned on the asphalt and his hands in cuffs before I could limp over to them.

  “How could you do it, you monster?” I hissed at Robo.

  “Do what?” Robo asked, his voice strained under the pressure of Tom’s knee in his back.

  “Hey! Lay off him!” I heard a voice say behind me. I turned to see a red-headed woman with a face just like Cold Cuts’.

  I was just about to punch her in the nose when I realized it was Cold Cuts. “What the hell!”

  “I could say the same thing,” she said. “What are you doing to Bill?”

  “What are you doing alive?” I screeched. “We thought he murdered you!”

  “What? Who?”

  “You disappeared. He disappeared. There was blood....” I gave up trying to explain and grabbed hold of my friend. “You’re alive!” I squeezed Cold Cuts tight.

  “Of course I’m alive....what’s –”

  Suddenly, the doors to the morgue burst open. Darren Dudley came running out. “Ha ha! Got you! Good, Valliant Stranger!” he yelled.

  If I’d had hold of Tom’s gun, I’d have shot him dead.

  IT SEEMED STRANGE TO be at Davie’s Donuts without Winnie and Winky. But it was even stranger to hear the tale Cold Cuts and Bill had to tell.

  “I woke up late and decided to dye my hair,” Cold Cuts said, and took a nibble from a powdered donut. “I went out to the RV to get the dye, and ran into that crazy old fisherman guy. You know, the one with –”

  “The beekeeper’s hat,” I said impatiently. “Yes, go on.”

  “He followed me back to the cottage. It creeped me out, so I told Bill about it. He said he’d take care of it and went outside.”

  “Wait. Back up. When did you meet Bill that morning?” Tom asked. He was sitting beside me in the booth. Cold Cuts and Bill sat opposite us, snuggling like love birds while Tom and I kept a cool distance from each other.

  “Uh...he spent the night with me...with us in the cottage,” Cold Cuts explained.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice, Val. He snores like a little piglet!” Cold Cuts nudged Bill on the shoulder. The portions of his cheeks not covered with beard blushed as he coughed out a laugh.

  “No, I didn’t know,” I said. “I thought maybe it had been that crazy fisher – I mean, your father, Bill.”

  Bill laughed. “He is crazy. And he’s a fisherman, all right. While Cold Cuts dyed her hair, I went out to check on Pops. I found him trying to break into the cottage window. He’d dragged a bloody tarpon up from the beach and wanted to fillet it in there. I tried to convince him otherwise, but as you know, he’s a big guy. And when he sets his squirrely mind to something....”

  “Anyway,” Cold Cuts said, “Bill came barging in the bathroom just as I was rinsing the color out of my hair in the sink. I couldn’t see. I thought it was the lunatic – Bill’s dad. I jerked my head back, and dye went everywhere!”

  “It was actually me,” Bill said. “I’d been trying to keep Pops outside while I ran in and told Cold Cuts I needed to take care of him. But when she made that mess in the bathroom, I thought, what was the point, now? I let Pops come in and lay in Cold Cuts’ bed. I told him it was the best place to hide from the paratroopers. Anyway, I explained the whole crazy situation to Cold Cuts. And Pops was a good boy. He stayed under the covers while
we sorted out what to do with him, the fish and the whole bloody mess.”

  “It was my idea to load the tarpon into the RV,” Cold Cuts said. “I told Bill we could get rid of it on the way to the keys.”

  “What?”

  “Oh. I forgot that part. Bill and I decided to go camping in the RV.”

  “Without even telling me?” I snapped.

  “What? No. I left you a note.”

  “I didn’t get it. Wait. It must have been blown away in the tornado....”

  “What tornado?” Bill and Cold Cuts asked in unison.

  “Not important at the moment,” Tom said. “Continue.”

  Bill nodded. “I went and grabbed a carpet out of my place and wrapped the tarpon in it, but it was too heavy for me to move by myself. So I went and got Monty to help me. When we got done with that, Monty and I tried to get Pops out of bed, but he put up a scuffle. By the time we wrangled him up, I noticed he had a bit of a bloody lip, and a cut on his hand. Anyway, we got Pops back into his...the place by the reception desk...and I took off with Cold Cuts. Monty was supposed to send someone to clean up the room.”

  “I guess the tornado interrupted his plans,” I said. “But what about the bloody pliers under the mattress? And the tooth?”

  “You’re kidding,” Bill said, and shook his head. “He was a dentist, you know. If he gets a loose tooth, he yanks it out himself. Wait...that might explain his bloody mouth.”

  “And the cut on his hand could explain the blood trail from the beach,” Tom said.

  “But it doesn’t explain why you didn’t call,” I whined at Cold Cuts.

  “I did. In the note, I told you we were headed to Key West. I said I’d text you when we arrived. I sent you a funny text. Didn’t you get it?”

  “I got a text with a picture of you with your throat slashed. From Halloween.”

  “Oh. That’s weird. I meant to send you a pic of us on the beach.” Cold Cuts shrugged. “Oops. My bad.”

  “I was worried sick!” I snapped. “I tried to call you back. You didn’t answer.”

  “I’d used up my battery. And I forgot my phone charger. I didn’t have enough juice to even check messages until today. We stopped at a coffee shop and I was able to get a partial charge. I sent you a text saying we were back, but you didn’t respond.”