by Tracy Ellen
I leaned over and kissed his cheek again, smiling big when he turned to give me a stern look for interrupting, but squeezing my hand in his. Anna also mimicked his stern look, but since she was swaying in her chair it was impossible not to giggle. I leaned her way and gave her a kiss on the cheek, too.
“That’s for being such a cute chipmunk.”
She grabbed onto my right arm and started shaking it while laughing in excitement. Anna announced loudly, “You are dwunk. Oh my god, Wuke, Junior’s dwunk. She never gets dwunk!”
“Hey, maybe you’re drunk.’ I countered, pulling my arm back before she wrenched it from its socket. “Did you ever once think of that, Miss Chippie?”
Luke laughed out loud.
I grinned at him. “I’m not drunk. I just think I need glasses. Really, I swear.”
Anna bounced in her chair. “Wait! Everyone be qwiet! I have to finish telling you, Wuke. Listen, now, okay? Junior, be qwiet for a minute. You don’t need glasses, okay, you are just shit-faced. Let me finish my story.”
I nodded; relieved to be assured I didn’t need glasses. I looked at Luke and saw he was giving me one of his intense stares while Anna chattered away. She was doing that peculiar sawing motion again while speaking of tree forts.
I gestured helplessly and mouthed, “I’m shit-faced.”
I brought a finger to my lips, shushing him. He grinned, and swiftly kissed our joined hands. I glanced over at the talking Anna and scootched my chair closer to Luke’s.
I whispered, “Don’t let me drive home.”
He whispered back, “We walked.”
I whispered back again, ‘Yeah, but I may want to drive our truck.”
“There’s no way in hell you are driving a tricycle, so don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried about driving a tricycle! What the…”
Server Cindy interrupted my snorting giggles to bring me a fifth vodka tonic, a double. I swore to her I didn’t order it. Laughing, she pointed to a nearby table of four men playing cards I hadn’t noticed. The bar had been steadily getting busier and more crowded as we drank.
These guys I knew, or at least I thought I recognized them from working over at Reggie’s place. They were sort of blurry, so it was hard to be sure. I waved my arm in their general direction with a big smile—in case they had a hard time seeing, too. They called back greetings. I spun around in my chair and chatted with them all for a few minutes; turns out they didn’t know my brother.
I turned back to Luke and Anna. I was sucking my fifth drink down through the little straw like it was water. I swallowed vodka down the wrong pipe at hearing what was going on right beneath my nose.
Anna was most distressingly, without caution or forethought, drunkenly answering any questions Luke idly put to her about any subject of our past. My past.
I had been dimly aware of hearing her speaking in the background, but now caught the end of her saying, “…and this was the wast guy Junior went out wiff. He bored her, too. I hope you don’t bore her, Wuke.”
I narrowed my crossing eyes suspiciously at this little development. Luke and his double gazed back at me with an amused expression on their faces and a dangerous glint in their four eyes.
We had been at Rueb’s for one hour.
I was completely trashed and Anna was firmly Luke’s new best friend. I had no idea what she had been singing to Maestro Luke this past hour, but the vault door was definitely ajar.
Anna’s head now rested on the table, she was near to passing out. I absently pulled the straw out from between her lips, needing to exert some force to get it out from her clenched teeth.
I knew dazedly, on some level, I should be disgusted with myself for underestimating how deviously good Luke really is, but it seems I’m too happy of a drunk to care.
Luke smilingly suggested we get Anna home and then we could continue on with our date. Even in my drunken state, I felt a moment of satisfaction seeing the blank expression on Luke’s face when I told him, most regrettably, our date was over. We’d be taking Anna back to my apartment for the night. She was way too drunk to be by herself. If I brought her home this trashed, Aunt Lily would blame me and chase me with her antique, sword cane—set on slice and dice.
Back at my place, Luke led us like a Sherpa up the Mount Everest of a steep staircase to my apartment.
The outside air had braced me a little, but I still had problems focusing my eyesight and Anna’s legs weren’t working so well. Luckily, that didn’t stop us from singing various duets for Luke’s listening pleasure all the way home, into my building, and up the stairs. I thought our rendition of “Coming ‘Round the Mountain” was particularly fine. I did the ‘When She Comes!” and “Yee-Ha!” parts with bump and grind gusto.
At the summit of the stairs, a swaying Anna abruptly covered her mouth with her hand. Letting out a dreadful moan a zombie would be proud of, she ran stumbling towards the bathroom. Since she left the door open, violent retching was soon heard.
Luke winced at the gagging sounds, shooting me a quick, guilty look.
I spread my arms wide in answer and shrugged, laughing. “Hey, Torquemada, don’t feel too bad. You can lead the girls to the bar, but even you can’t force them drink.”
Luke’s grin was wide as he repeated incredulously under his breath, “Torquemada..?” while shaking his head.
He was reaching for me, and damned if I wasn’t eager, when Anna’s pitiful voice could be heard beseeching my name from the bathroom.
“Hold your horses, little doggie, I’m a comin’!” I called down the hallway.
I turned back and smiled a cheery, boozy good night. “Well then, Luke Drake, thank you so much for the dinner.”
Rubbing his forehead, he laughed and gracefully admitted defeat.
After quickly making plans with me for the next day to explore Minneapolis, Luke stopped his descent to leave with one foot on the stairs. He was looking on in amazement as I painstakingly made a note to myself of our date. It was on my foyer mirror with a tube of lipstick from my purse.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you let me put the time in your cell, instead of these,” he waved toward my note. Doubled over with laughter, he was barely able to get the next word out, “hieroglyphics on the mirror?”
I called down the hall I’d be there in a second. I walked over to Luke.
He waited for me, still chuckling. I reached up and planted a chaste kiss somewhere near the region of his dimple. “You’ll not trick me into giving you my cell phone so you can plant a bug in it. Don’t be too surprised if I wear an aluminum foil headband tomorrow to block your micromindwaves. Now, good night My Pharaoh, unless you’d like to help with Anna in…?”
Luke made a face of mock horror and beat a hasty retreat down the stairs. He ordered up from the last stair. “Anabel, buzz me out the front and lock up right away.”
All ready at the master station, I rolled my eyes at his orders. I called back down over the ledge. “You called me my first nickname. Don’t think I didn’t notice how cutesy you really are!”
Smiling over the sound of his loud snort of male disgust as he left, I waited to see him leave the building. I verified those doors were locked and the alarm reset, and then went to see if Anna was still among the living.
Once I got Benedict Anna alone, she got a friendly reminder on the merits of remembering to keep her mouth shut, the definition of the word vault, and who was truly her best friend. She was a captive audience. She was draped over the toilet in my bathroom and still puking her guts out from all the liquor Luke poured down her unsuspecting throat.
As I held back her hair off her face, I softly brought up the pinky swears from grade school. I gently reminded her of the painful, penknife slices of Indian Blood Brother oaths in eighth grade. Did she really forget the five beers each, tearful declarations of best friend love in high school, as we vomited in tandem? I even dredged up the sincere, if paranoid, swear to Gods to be friends forever the time that we smoked weed
at eighteen and got so high. We laughed and ate until we passed out like beached whales on my bedroom floor. The deal clincher that made her beg for me to take pity; I’d tell my brother everything she’s always said about him if she opened her trap to Luke ever again about my personal business—wasted or no wasted.
After her next bout of dry heaves was completed, and I had soothingly wiped a cold, wet cloth over her face—poking her in the eye only once--and then gave her mouthwash to rinse, she totally agreed Luke was very tricky and promised she was onto him.
A couple of hours later, I tucked her into the guest bedroom. I set a glass of ginger ale on the bedside table and a big soup pan for any further emergencies on the floor. Anna asked in a small voice if I was mad she’d ruined our date.
“Please, and miss the sight of you barfing? While trying desperately to not toss my cookies, too? Nothing compares.” I waved a negligent hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m seeing Mr. Tricky tomorrow. Besides, you may have actually saved me tonight.”
Anna stopped punching her pillow into submission and frowned blearily up at me. “How did I save you?”
“Holy Hannah, I was so blasted earlier! If you weren’t here, I cringe to think what I may have said to him if we were alone.” I smiled wickedly. “Or what I may have done to him.”
Sighing, Anna snuggled under her covers. “Great, now I really feel crummy. Luke probably hates me knowing he missed a wild night of a trashed Anabel. You hardly ever drink like that. What if you would have started drunk crying, or blacked out after dancing nude on the dining room table? That would have been so sweet! You should call him and tell him to come over. I probably wouldn’t hear anything.”
“Huh. Appealing as that sounds, I think I’ll pass. Pass out, too. Sweet dreams, you little lightweight.”
“Thanks for keeping your toilet clean, June.”
I was at the door when Anna called softly, “Hey...”
“Yes?”
“I liked him. You need a man like him to keep you on your toes.” Anna paused. “Or do I mean on your knees?”
She was still chuckling delightedly at her own joke when I closed the guest bedroom door behind me without answering.
Anna is my best friend. We are soul sisters until the end. Even though I have three blood sisters of my own, there is a universal truth known by the kind of females I like best; a woman can never have too many sisters.
Chapter VII
“Love Shack” by The B-52’S
Saturday, 11/17/12
9:40 AM
I heard the front door unlock and recognized the rhythm of the heels tapping across the lobby floor. I went to the door of my office. The store woke up, becoming bright and cheerful as the overhead light fixtures hanging from the soaring, tin stamped ceiling were switched on by Stella.
She walked her way towards me down the wide aisle of the huge, open room that is the main floor space in Bel’s Books. This central aisle flowed straight down the length of the room and ended at the Laissez Fare café. Continuous, short bookcases lined either sides of the aisle, and created wide rows much like in a school library.
These wide rows of bookcases were organized to create different “room” areas on each side of the main aisle. There were various kinds of seating in each of the rooms where a person could page through a book, or sit and schmooze with a friend.
Narrower aisles ran along the length of the outside walls of the room. These exterior walls were lined with tall, built-in bookcases, and interspersed with an occasional doorway leading to other rooms.
The long, wooden checkout counter where I was standing is located along the side aisle when you first entered Bel’s Books front doors and took an immediate left. It was basically under the hallway of the bedroom side of the layout upstairs. My office was reached by a door behind this counter. The office is an odd room that was built under the stairs leading up to my apartment. I like the slanted walls and various ceiling heights. It’s a cozy place from which to rule my little empire.
Further down this side aisle, and past the checkout counter, is an entrance to a short hallway leading to restrooms, a staff break room and sizeable kitchen, a storage closet, and the entrance door to the basement of the building.
Completing this northern side of the building were two rooms used for gatherings; The Hearth Room and The Garden Room. When the pocket doors between the two rooms were slid into the walls, they became one common space large enough to hold a big party, reception, or meeting.
I rented out both rooms to various clubs, businesses, and private citizens to accommodate whatever the occasion. Laissez Fare catered, or the renters could bring in their own licensed caterers. This practice allowed for the serving of alcohol if the correct state liquor licensing was in place.
Once, a group of Wiccans held an impromptu Litha celebration here. The weather outside was too stormy and dangerous on the night of the summer solstice for the group to attempt meeting outside. I don’t know where I got the idea, but I had a hazy thought they might get down performing wild, pagan dance moves. I was mildly disappointed to observe they stayed sedately dressed in your average, summer clothes, many wore flowers in their hair, and they mingled around while eating lots of fruits and veggies.
It was probably just as well I was way off base. The actuality of a bunch of people dancing wildly while in their birthday suits is very similar to a nude beach; it sounds sexy, but the reality is pretty scary and can put you off your dinner.
With her head down and digging for something in her purse, I only got an intermittent glimpse of Stella as she came forward. I did manage to notice a sparkly, yellow bag was hanging from her elbow. She was dressed in the uniform of the store; jeans and a T-shirt with BEL’S BOOKS spelled out across the front in bold lettering.
I saw she was wearing high-heeled, platform pumps that explained the clunky sound of her heels. They were two-toned in the colors blue and green that appeared to be patent leather, but I knew had to be man-made. Being Stella, she tried to live by her ideals and convictions. At the forefront of her beliefs was the concept to harm no animals in the choices of clothes she bought, or the food she ate. She bought nothing made of leather and ate vegetarian.
Stella was trying to be vegan, but was totally depressed with her progress. Try as she may, she can’t stay away from the cheese. As she struggles with her inner dairy demons, she compromises and eats her cheese from dairy farms where the cows are treated gently. Thanks to my niece, I knew way more than I ever wanted of the standard processes used in the production of dairy products. My oldest sister, Mac has a lot to answer for in the raising of Stella. I figure she has to be the one to blame since it never crossed my mind to wonder about the status of cow’s teats and the levels of blood and pus acceptable in the milk we buy at the grocery store. These kinds of facts really disgusted me, and maybe Stella was having a hard time being vegan, but she’d grossed me out for life.
My only niece initially made the decision to be vegetarian at age fourteen, and got flak from a lot of the adults in her life. Pushing the great age of twenty nine, I’ve observed the older some people get, the less they seem to remember what it was like to be a teen full of zest and purpose. They thought it was just a phase and humored her. Four years later, when the phase didn’t go away but became a way of life, it made some people uncomfortable.
Stella is often patronized for her beliefs and asked really stupid questions. She normally handles these people and their intrusive, arrogant questions with a patient grace.
My personal favorite was from Marge Clausen, an overweight, sedentary busybody in her forties that has been coming to Bel’s Books since I was a kid. I overheard Marge asking the lithe, athletic, glowing-with-health Stella, “Are you sure you are getting enough protein, dear?”
Aside from the obvious, the question brought home to me that when you are vegetarian people take an uncommon interest in whether or not you are getting all your protein and vitamins. I don’t recall ever hearing an adult
ask a flesh-eating teenager those types of questions, regardless if their physical condition was bulimic skinny from barfing up their vitamins, or morbidly obese from a steady diet of junk food and no exercise.
Eating organic was not as trendy four years ago. To be a vegetarian, paired up with insisting on organic whenever possible, was to some people downright un-American and threatening. I got a good chuckle out of this attitude, as if slaughtering cows and chomping down steaks built character, good health, and a powerful nation.
Personally, I am a chomper, but I buy organic and local wherever possible. I take an interest in knowing where my meat comes from—especially beef--what it is fed, and how it is processed for two piggybacking reasons.
One, can you say Creuetz-Jakob disease? This is the disease named for the human related result of eating cattle infected with Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy, more commonly known as mad-cow disease. The idea of contracting this disease scares the-you-know-what out of me. I have not completely eliminated beef from my menu, but I consider eating it an extreme sport.
Two, having your fourteen-year-old niece sadly shake her head at you when seeing the burger in your hand and saying, “Auntie, you know you are eating sad, sick meat that had a face.”
Good god, I’m only human and have a heart, even if on the shriveled side, and a brain, hopefully not spongy. Stella masterfully played me like a violin. Now, I try to make sure the animals I eat have a happy life on a nearby farm. I like knowing they’re running around frolicking and eating grass free of pesticides or organic, vegetarian feed. I like thinking their teats are not abused. I like imagining they don’t know what hit them when they are butchered locally for my eating pleasure.
I’ve always steadfastly supported Stella all the way in her convictions--just because. More and more, I was coming to believe she has the right way of it with many of her practices; they were sensible and realistic. My niece is full of true grit and determination, two traits I admire greatly in women when used in the pursuit of self discovery and personal goals.
