Duet in September (The Calendar Girls)

by Gina Ardito

  “You’re right. It’s not. It’s hysterical. I hit him right in the gonads.” Terri’s laughter turned raucous—the sound of a braying ass—and she pounded a palm on the table.

  Of course the jukebox chose that particular moment to go silent. Conversations halted, and all eyes turned toward our table. Paige and Francesca simply stared at each other helplessly.

  Great. Tonight was quickly becoming a three ring circus. “Okay,” I said with more calm than I felt. “I think we’re done here. Time to go home, Terri.” I reached to take her arm, but she shook me off.

  “No fair,” Terri exclaimed. “You guys just got here. If Deadhead Ted can’t take a joke, that’s his problem. Let him leave. I’m having fun.”

  I clenched my teeth, but the easy smile never left my face. “I think you’ve had enough fun for one night.”

  “Screw you, Nia,” she shouted back. “You think I don’t know you’re only my friend because you feel sorry for me? Screw you!” On the last word, she picked up her martini, turned, and hurled it against the wall behind her.

  Crash! The glass collided with the dark wood paneling, splintered into hundreds of shards, and sprayed drops of pink liquid all over Terri’s white shirt.

  “Screw you,” she repeated as the tears streamed down her face. “Screw all of you.”

  “That does it,” Gary announced from behind the bar. “I’m calling the cops.”

  Da-dum. Da-dum. Dum-dum-dum-dum…

  The Jaws theme grew louder and picked up tempo, just like in the movie—right before the great white sank its teeth into its next unknowing victim.

  Chapter 7

  Paige

  Nia, Francesca, and I managed to wrangle Terri into the ladies room before she could do any more damage. At least, she couldn’t do any more damage to others. Her esophagus, on the other hand, received plenty of burning punishment when she started puking.

  I gotta admit, nothing gets to me like the sound of someone else throwing up. Just the retching noise is enough to pitch my stomach into free fall. So while Terri prayed to the porcelain god in the first stall, I doubled over, lips tightened and hand clutching my abdomen to keep my own dignity intact.

  Lucky for me, Nia knew my infirmity all too well. “Go ask Gary for some ginger ale,” she ordered brusquely.

  Gladly. Even facing Gary the Scary Bartender held more appeal for me than lingering in this vomitorium. I yanked open the door and raced into the hallway, where I barreled into a rock-hard chest. A pair of brawny arms encircled my waist, and firm hands landed on my butt. The sensation was actually kind of pleasant. The hair on my arms feathered, and a delicious shiver rippled across my flesh. Until he spoke and broke the spell.

  “Whoa, easy there.”

  Me and Sam Dillon. In a dark hallway with his arms around me. With me, thinking I liked it. Awkward.

  Even now, I couldn’t say who recognized whom first. I prefer to think the realization was simultaneous. I do remember we both stiffened at the same time and stepped away from each other as if jerked back on Bungee cords.

  I’d also like to think I behaved with grace, but I know better.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” I snapped. “Isn’t there any other cop in this whole rinky-dink town?”

  “Paige,” he replied flatly. “I should have known you were involved in a drunken brawl. How much did you have to drink, sweetheart?”

  How much did I…? Sweetheart? A red mist descended over my eyes. “Wow. Three insults in one statement. Even for you that’s ambitious, as well as overly hostile. In the first place—” I stopped in mid-tirade as my promise to Nia echoed in my head.

  Give the man a chance.

  Okay. For my sister’s sake, I’d try. After a deep breath to calm my outrage, I said in a much more sedate tone, “Never mind. Nia’s in the ladies room with Terri so she’s in good hands.”

  “Nia?” Sam’s eyes widened, taking on a luminous glow beneath the bare bulb over our heads. “Are you saying Nia is the out-of-control drunk I’m here to arrest?”

  “Of course not! Terri’s the dr—”

  I halted again. Arrest? Did he say arrest? Sure, Terri had become drunk and a little belligerent, but it wasn’t her fault. Not really, anyway. I couldn’t imagine having to live with the knowledge my father killed my mother, then himself while I was on vacation at the beach for a week. If she chose to dull her guilt, along with her senses, every once in a while rather than deal with that horror, who was I to judge her?

  But most people didn’t know the truth. So of course, they just saw Terri as a troublemaker, the town drunk who needed an intervention. Or, in this case, a stretch in the local hoosegow.

  Thank God I hadn’t gone on the full-frontal attack when Sam and I crashed together in this hallway. Because Terri needed the lawman on her side. And apparently, I had just taken on the role of liaison. Of all the sucky luck. The one man in this whole town I couldn’t talk into helping me was the one man in this whole town whose help I needed.

  “Look,” I said, my hands outstretched, palms up, in the typical I’m-not-carrying-any-concealed-weapons pose. “She broke a glass against the wall and threw a stuffed mushroom at Ted Gadsen. There’s no need for an arrest. Really.”

  Sam sighed. “That’s not up to me, Paige. It’s up to Gary. And Ted, apparently. If they want to press charges, there’s not much I can do to change their minds.”

  Oh, for God’s sake! Did I have to draw him a diagram? “You could help. Soothe their anger, minimize their attitude. Tell them I’ll pay damages. I’ll buy Ted some new jeans. The man probably hasn’t bought a decent pair since 1986 anyway. And tell Gary I’ll do his taxes for free this year. Please?” I actually clasped my hands in prayer on that last word. Like I was pleading with God Himself.

  God Himself, however, simply frowned. “Look. I know you mean well and you think you’re helping her, but the plain truth is your friend’s in trouble. She needs professional help.”

  Yeah. I think we were all beginning to see that Terri’s drunken binges were more than just Girls’ Night Out, let loose fun. “Maybe. But she’s not gonna find salvation in a holding cell.”

  This time I got a head shake in response. “I’m not so sure about that. Sometimes an addict’s gotta hit bottom before she’ll crawl out of the madness. Terri will never hit bottom if her friends keep bailing her out.”

  “She’s not an addict.” My voice lacked any fury under the weight of Sam’s comments. Were we really making things worse for Terri?

  He arched that brow at me. But this time rather than making me defend my argument more vehemently, his expression forced me to consider the implications. Still…arrest her? That was like going after a mouse with a flamethrower.

  “She’s in pain, Sam,” I confided on a hoarse whisper. “Nia and I, we know stuff about Terri that no one else knows. And it makes a difference. A huge difference.”

  He stared at me, as if he could suddenly see the secrets Nia and I were privy to. I dropped my gaze to my strappy silver sandals. Much as I wanted Sam on our side, I had no right to reveal Terri’s past to anyone.

  Finally, he sighed again. This time I was pretty convinced the sound smacked of surrender. “You said she’s in the ladies room with Nia?”

  Hope flourished, and I snapped my head up to grant him my mute appreciation. “Uh-huh. Nia and Dr. Florentino are in there with her.”

  “Excuse me.” He strode around me, aimed for the rest room.

  “Wait! You’re not going into the ladies room, are you?”

  “Yeah.” One hand on the door, he turned to me again. “Don’t worry. I’m a professional.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just…” How to put this delicately? “Terri’s… indisposed... right now.”

  Sam grinned.

  Holy cow, the man had a thousand watt smile. Why I had I never noticed that before?

  “Still can’t deal with someone getting sick, Paige?”

  I sputtered. “How did you…?”

>   “Senior class picnic. Remember? Bobby Shaw drank too much rum and tossed his cookies in the weeds. You walked by where he crouched on his knees and boom. Hit the ground like a cannonball.”

  I grimaced, recalling that sunny June day when I fainted in the school athletic field. “Definitely not one of my stellar moments.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Sam replied. “I think it was the first time I ever considered you human.”

  The insult hit me right between the eyes, and I blinked. How much more could I possibly take? “Human?” I asked pointedly.

  “Yeah.” My obvious umbrage was lost on Sam, who still grinned without shame. “Before then, you always seemed like this living computer, full of facts and numbers with no emotion. But that afternoon, you looked vulnerable. It was actually kinda cute.”

  My jaw dropped. Vulnerable? Kinda cute? What cave did this man crawl out of? Before I could utter any logical response, he pushed his way into the ladies room.

  A split second later, he popped his head out again, and I stifled a smug I told you so. Apparently, even the big, bad police chief had his vulnerable moments.

  “Hey, Paige,” he called to me. “Make yourself useful and ask Gary for some ginger ale, would you?”

  Make myself useful? Oh, he did not just say that to me.

  Give the man a chance. Once again, Nia’s plea echoed in my head.

  Gritting my teeth, I nodded at Sam and stalked toward the bar. Make myself useful, I grumbled. Lucky for him Nia had already sent me on the same errand. She was probably wondering what was taking me so long anyway. My rush to fetch the ginger ale now had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he sent me so I could be useful. Jerk.

  I had to elbow my way past a throng of men and women clamoring for service around the polished bar. And since the three mixologists handling customers had all witnessed Terri’s earlier meltdown, I wasn’t going to be their top priority. Time for Plan B. I scanned the dozens of faces around me, seeking out a friendly compatriot. My gaze settled on Evan Rugerman, who had one elbow on the bar’s curved edge while the other hand waved a twenty at Gary. I smiled. Target acquired.

  “Hey, Evan.” I left my Siberian corner and wound my way through the crowd to my new best friend’s side. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Paige. You believe this?” He gestured at the crush of people, then leaned in to peck my cheek.

  If I hadn’t known about his boyfriend, I might have snuggled closer. Evan had eyes the color of a perfect summer sky and lustrous, thick, black hair. His full-lipped smile was the stuff of forbidden fantasies. No doubt about it. Evan Rugerman was a walking advertisement for sex, which was one of God’s greatest jokes on the female of the species, considering Evan’s gender preference. In fact, Evan had been crowned Miss Fire Island at Cherry Grove three years in a row. Alas, our loss was mankind’s gain. Literally.

  “Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?”

  His hot breath tickled my nape, and the clean citrus smell of his cologne tempted me to lick that delightful hollow below his Adam’s apple. Who cared if he didn’t get turned on? I’d enjoy the hell out of it.

  Focus, Paige. Terri needs you.

  “I just want a ginger ale, thanks,” I replied.

  “You the DD tonight?”

  “Something like that.” DD, designated driver. I didn’t feel the need to enlighten him about the events currently unfolding, or rather…coming up…in the ladies room. Better to change the subject. “Where’s the dashing Dr. Bautista tonight?”

  Evan’s eyes clouded. “An emergency with the McDonnells’ dopey dog. Again.”

  “Uh-oh.” The rottweiler had a reputation for ingesting anything left within reach of his mouth. Since rotties weren’t exactly petite, anything lower than…oh, say, the top of the refrigerator…was fair game to the canine. Last month, he’d required emergency surgery to remove two Hot Wheels cars and a baby sock. “What did Boomer eat this time?”

  “An entire tray of fudge brownies.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “Yowza. That dog has a real death wish.”

  “So do you, Paige,” Gary growled as he stopped in front of where I stood with Evan. “Haven’t you and your friends done enough damage tonight?”

  There went my intention to fly beneath his radar. I’d have to switch to Plan C. Or X. Or whatever letter I was up to at this stage. Unfortunately, I didn’t have another plan prepared at the moment. Lucky for me, though, Evan Rugerman opted to play white knight.

  “Oh, come on, Gary, that’s not fair. Everybody knows Terri O’Mara is a hot mess.”

  Hmm… My white knight might be closer to beige.

  “You should have cut her off earlier,” Evan continued. “She was already blitzed by the time Paige got here. And once Terri became nasty, Paige hustled her into the ladies room. So be a nice guy and say thank you by giving our fair maiden a ginger ale, okay? And a summer ale for me.”

  The bartender grumbled something I couldn’t decipher before reaching overhead for a clean glass, which he then slammed on the bar. A quick push of a button on a gooseneck spigot, and he handed me an ounce of ginger ale. No ice.

  “Gee, Gar, why not let her suck on the bar rag?” Evan took the glass from my hand and thrust it back at the bartender. “Fill it up.”

  “Why? She’ll be outta here as soon as the cops show up. Along with the rest of her drunken entourage.”

  “You called the cops?” Evan demanded. “For four girls who, combined, probably don’t outweigh you?”

  “Terri damaged restaurant property.”

  “She dropped a glass,” Evan replied with a careless shrug.

  “She also assaulted a customer.”

  “With a mushroom. Did you tell the 911 operator that she’s armed and dangerous? I mean, after all, she could start hurling Maraschino cherries. Imagine the mess. You might want to advise them to bring in a SWAT team.” He shook his head. “Let it go, dude. Fill up Paige’s ginger ale, give her and the others a chance to take Terri home, and they’ll never patronize this establishment again.” He squeezed me up against his side. “Will you, Paige?”

  I held up my right hand. “Never again.”

  I could almost hear the hamster wheel turning in Gary’s mind. Wrenching the glass from Evan, he slammed it on the bar again. The spigot came up and filled the tumbler. Still no ice, but I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut before my foot fell into the gaping maw.

  “Here,” Gary said in his gruffest tones. “Now get that sot out of here, or I’ll have her arrested.”

  Before hightailing it back to the ladies room, I planted a loud kiss on Evan’s perfect peachy cheek. “You’re my new hero.”

  “Pshaw. Now, get outta here, kiddo. Fast.”

  Ginger ale in hand, I took off. Who needed Sam Dillon? Evan had finagled our release with one conversation, and I didn’t even have to offer Gary free tax prep.

  Feeling smug, I pushed into the ladies room and entered mayhem. Terri lay supine on the dirty tile floor wedged between the first stall and the bank of sinks. Nia sat on her haunches, Terri’s head cradled in her lap. On one side of this interesting tableaux, Francesca fussed with wet paper towels pressed to Terri’s face.

  Meanwhile, Sam crouched on the other side, talking into his radio. “She’s coming in with Dr. Florentino.”

  Terri coughed suddenly, jerking away from her friends, and I saw what I’d missed on my first view of the situation. Blood. Lots of it. All over Terri’s blouse.

  My stomach revolted. The way I reacted to puke? Was ten times better than the way I reacted to blood. And the sight of red wetness streaking white cotton boiled bile in my belly. To fight the pending nausea, I carefully sipped the ginger ale I’d brought in with me, then choked as my throat closed around the liquid.

  “Get outta here, Paige,” Sam growled at me. “Go out front and wait for the ambulance.”

  I looked from him to my sister and back again. “Am…ambulance?” Good God, what had happened? I’d only
left them alone for ten minutes. How on earth had Terri managed to hurt herself so badly in ten minutes that she needed an ambulance?

  Only Francesca was kind enough to answer me. “Terri passed out in the stall and slammed her head against the toilet. She broke her nose and maybe fractured a cheekbone.”

  “Oh.” I looked down at the glass in my hand. “I guess she doesn’t need the ginger ale then.”

  Stupid. I knew it was a stupid thing to say. I knew it before Sam glared at me in disgust, before Nia groaned and looked away as if I’d just humiliated her with my idiocy.

  Once again, the ER doctor took pity on me. Rising, she patted my shoulder with her damp hand. “Terri’s going to be okay, Paige. But I need you to flag down the EMTs when they arrive and get them in here as fast as possible. Can you do that for me? For us?”

  This time, I kept my mouth shut. What had Abraham Lincoln said? “It’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt.” This fool would remain mute for the rest of the evening.

  I nodded, set the glass of ginger ale on the counter near the last sink, and fled the room before I lost my lunch. For the briefest moment, I thought of Dara Fitzsimmons and the guests on her talk show. By the end of this thirty day stint, Nia and I would be lucky to still be alive.

  Chapter 8

  Paige

  Ah, Saturday.

  I rolled over and stretched with the languor of a pampered Persian cat. Toes first, then legs, hips, and arms. At last, I splayed my fingers and sighed. Deeeee…licious. Lucky me, I didn’t work weekends in the summer so I could loll among my Egyptian cotton sheets with my air conditioning on high and a thick quilt. Unlike poor Nia who—

  Nia!

  I shot upright in the bed. Dang. I was supposed to pick up my sister this morning to take her to work. Cursing, I scrambled out of the tangle of bedcovers and glanced at the clock on my nightstand. 8:28 am. I had two minutes to get to Nia’s house.

  Yeah. Like that was going to happen. Oh, God, she was gonna kill me. Especially after last night’s disaster at The Lookout. All the way home last night, she insisted she was done with our thirty day challenge and refused to consider giving it one more day. Well, like it or not, she was going to participate at least today. Because ever-punctual Nia was about to be late to work. Probably for the first time ever. If I’d intentionally tried to sabotage her, I’d pat myself on the back right now. Instead, I zipped to the bathroom to take care of my personal needs, then back to the bedroom.