Sparky imagined Vibro in a boardroom selling her product ideas to a bunch of venture capitalists.
“Like at a closure ceremony,” Brenda Lee said brightly.
“Precisely,” Vibro said. “Wait until you see what they do.”
“I don’t think this is funny,” Jennifer spat.
“No one asked you,” Vibro said.
“I can’t wait to see them work,” Brenda Lee said, clapping her hands together.
“It is pretty cool,” Sparky said.
Jennifer was furious. Her face was red and a vein stuck out in her forehead. She looked like a creature out of Star Trek. Sparky wondered if part of Jennifer’s anger stemmed from the fact that Vibro was getting all the attention. Jennifer was a classic narcissist. If the world wasn’t revolving around her, she made a fuss.
“I want to go first,” Jennifer said. She pulled a pair of purple silk panties from her purse and tossed them in the fire. “There.” The panties caught fire and the nylon parts twisted. It lacked drama.
“And what does that symbolize for you?” SOC said, getting back into her closer mode, but still eyeing the fireworks display.
“That Vibro sucks in bed and I never came. I faked it the whole time, which is why I played around with more than one girlfriend.”
Sparky watched Vibro’s face in the absolute silence that followed. There was a quick twitch by her left eye, but she said nothing. She glanced at SOC, “Can I go now?”
SOC nodded.
Vibro lit the fuses.
The giant dildo soared skyward, followed in quick succession by the four smaller dildo rockets. When all five dildos reached the preordained altitude they exploded and giant flashes of rainbow-colored sparks came out. They all stared up as the rocket dildos rained down showers of sparkly lights.
“Wow, that’s great!” Brenda Lee said.
“It’s even better in the dark,” Vibro said. “The Chink and I did some test runs at night when we were building them. It’s tricky getting the timing right.”
“I want to order some. I do a lot of gay weddings and these would be perfect,” SOC said.
Tammy clapped Vibro on the back. “Awesome, simply awesome.”
Sparky reached over and kissed Vibro’s cheek. “You’re a fucking genius.”
Vibro smiled at Sparky. She glanced over Sparky’s shoulder and looked alarmed, very alarmed. “What?” Sparky said.
“Holy shit!” Vibro said.
Sparky turned and saw that Jennifer’s faux hawk was on fire. One of the sparks from the burning panties must have leapt out of the fire and landed on her hair. She had been so busy glaring up at the dildo display she hadn’t noticed. Jennifer must have smelled burning hair because she reached up to feel the top of her head. She burned her hand and yowled. “My hair, my hair’s on fire.” Her screams increased in volume and she stamped her feet as if that would put the fire out.
Tammy was the only one who had her wits about her. While the rest of them just stood there, she picked Jennifer up, tossed her over her shoulder and ran for the ocean. She plunged in and dunked Jennifer’s head in the surf. There was an audible sizzle and the human torch was extinguished.
“I think she’s going to need a good stylist,” Brenda Lee said.
“Either that or one of those smoke-and-water-damage people who come in and do recovery work,” Sparky said.
Vibro smirked.
Sparky caught SOC’s eye and apologized. “Okay, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Vibro said. “I think this whole thing is poetic justice.”
“Cruel but true,” SOC said. She was rummaging around in her bag. She pulled out a small aluminum packet and unwrapped it.
“What’s that?” Brenda Lee asked.
“A solar blanket. Jennifer is not only going to lose a lot of hair but probably get hypothermia if we don’t do something about it,” SOC said. “That water is cold.”
“Oh, my goodness, I never thought of that,” Brenda Lee said. She smiled up at SOC with admiration. “You’re very prepared.”
Sparky recalled that before Stan had become Spirit of Compromise, he had been an Eagle Scout and troop leader. He knew about being prepared.
Tammy, who was only wet up to her thighs, was followed back to the group by Jennifer, who was soaked and shivering. She went right for Vibro. “You bitch!”
“What did I do?” Vibro stepped back. Jennifer looked terrible. The faux hawk was sagging to one side and the top half was singed. She’d lost her shoes and her clothes clung to her body, revealing a beer gut.
“You set me on fire,” Jennifer said.
“Correction: your panties set you on fire,” Vibro said. “Not to mention the fact that you did a major buzzkill on my firework displays by setting yourself on fire. You’re always trying to upstage me.”
Sparky burst out laughing. This got everyone else laughing except Jennifer, who looked miserable.
SOC took pity on her and wrapped the solar blanket around her shoulders. “Here, come sit by the fire.”
“I’m not going anywhere near that fire. I’m getting the hell out of here,” Jennifer said, stalking off, her silver blanket dragging behind her like a deranged superhero’s cape.
“That was very brave of you,” Brenda Lee said to Tammy.
“Thanks,” Tammy said, blushing. “I wish I was brave enough to make you stay with me.”
“Maybe we could be friends for a while and see where that goes,” Brenda Lee said. She glanced over at SOC.
“Friendship is good,” SOC said.
“Yes, it is,” Sparky said, taking Vibro’s hand.
“Speaking of friends,” SOC said, “tell Milton hi for me, Sparky.”
“I will. You look great, Stan, I mean Spirit of Compromise.”
“I appreciate that, Sparky. It took me a long time to get to this place, but I feel so much better about myself now.”
“I’m glad,” Sparky said.
“Despite having lost two members of our group, we must complete the ceremony with a toast,” SOC said. She pulled out the two liter bottles of grape soda and filled five cups. She took one and passed the rest around.
SOC raised her paper cup. “To new beginnings, may they all be blessed with love and perpetual hope.”
They all raised their cups. “To new beginnings,” they said in unison.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tying the Red Bow
Vibro fed Sparky a spoonful of Molly Moon’s Caramel Salt ice cream—purported to be the When Harry Met Sally of ice cream flavors. They were in Vibro’s apartment.
“This stuff is fantastic,” Sparky said.
“It’s one of my favorites,” Vibro said. “I’ll get us some bowls.”
“I like it better like this.”
“Because it’s kind of romantic,” Vibro said, waggling her eyebrows.
“I’ve never known anyone who could waggle their eyebrows before,” Sparky said.
“Another talent not listed on my résumé,” Vibro replied. “Do you really like the new furniture?”
“I do. Why? Don’t you?” Sparky wondered if this was another version of the “Does this dress make me look fat?” question that always got a person, especially those of the male persuasion, in a lot of trouble, no matter the answer.
“Well, I don’t know exactly. I only rented it through the end of the month. I think I’m going to send it back.”
Vibro had been renting furniture for the last four months. She’d started off with übermodern. During the July Fourth dinner party, Phred and Cheryl had both fallen out of the dining room chairs, which had no side rails and very curvy and slippery edges, while trying to pass, first, a plate of baked beans and then Jamaican jerk ribs. No one was hurt, but the ribs had gone skittering across the floor. Marlowe had thought they were for him, but Pen collected them before he could choke on a bone. What finally made Vibro nix the übermodern, though, was the chronic neck pain she got from sitting on the o
ddly shaped, eclectic, neon green couch.
Next, she’d chosen an Ethan Allen Victorian look. It had been stodgy. “OMG, I aged forty-five years just being around the stuff.”
This was followed by the “around the world” furniture—first, a black and white French brocade look. Next came Spanish Revival hacienda—all leather and woven stuff. And now sleek Swedish furniture, which was what they were sitting on. It was the most comfortable of all of the rented furniture thus far, Sparky thought. You could actually lounge on the stuff.
“Do they send the same delivery men each time?” Sparky asked, taking another spoonful of ice cream from Vibro.
“No, I choose a different company every time. I don’t know how long this process is going to take so I have to spread myself around.” Vibro ate another spoonful.
“So do you have your next style picked out yet?” Sparky asked.
“Not exactly. Maybe you could go with me and help pick it out. I don’t know. I may have been cursed by the furniture gods for cutting up my old furniture. You know what really bothered me about that whole scene?” She ate more ice cream.
“Uh, no.”
“Jennifer never said a word about it. I thought for sure she’d stand out in the street and scream to bloody hell about what I did, but no. She picks it up under the cover of darkness and not a peep out of her.” Vibro scooped out the last spoonful and gave it to Sparky.
Sparky didn’t say anything. She also didn’t make eye contact.
Vibro’s eyes narrowed. She stared at Sparky. “What? Do you have a take on it that I’m not privy to?”
“I don’t know.”
“What?” Vibro inched closer, which made her very close since the Swedish couch was rather small.
“I just think that, well, maybe, it’s just a supposition…”
“Say it!”
“I think she wanted you to wreck your own furniture. I don’t think she ever wanted it. She just didn’t want you to have it. At least she called off the lawyer,” Sparky said.
“There’s that,” Vibro said, looking thoughtful. “Do you ever wonder about them?”
“Them?” Sparky asked.
“Wesson and Jennifer, silly,” Vibro said.
“Oh, them. Well, I’d like to say no, but that would be a lie. I try not to. It was pretty easy to stop thinking about Jennifer after your furniture got hauled off, but Wesson, not so easy. I’m glad that I was forced to get all new stuff. I think having things that reminded me of my old life would’ve been depressing. I don’t know how she can live in that house with all the stuff pretty much intact. It’s like I never left.”
“Maybe that’s what she wants—the impression that you never left and one day you’ll come walking back in,” Vibro said. She didn’t look at Sparky. She gathered up the spoon and the empty carton of ice cream and took it to the kitchen.
Sparky knew what she was thinking. “Vibro, I’m not going back.”
“Really? Like for sure?” Vibro said, poking her head out of the kitchen.
“Get over here,” Sparky said.
Vibro came and obediently sat down. Sparky studied her. “I swear to you that I would never be so unkind to myself, to Wesson or to you as to go back to a place it took me so long to get out of. There’s no going back, only forward. Okay?”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Whew,” Vibro said. She squeezed Sparky’s thigh.
“You don’t have maudlin thoughts about Jennifer?” Sparky liked having Vibro’s hand on her thigh. Anytime they had the opportunity to touch, Sparky basked in it like a cat on a ledge enjoying the sun—the only problem being that after a few seconds the cat got vertigo.
“Hell, no. I’m trying to be more forgiving.”
“It is working?” Sparky asked.
“No. I still fantasize about her vagina falling off or that she squashes her tits in a closing elevator door or her girlfriend leaves her for a contortionist in a traveling circus.”
Sparky laughed.
Vibro hit her with a couch pillow.
There was a huge bang from downstairs, and someone said, “Well, God-damn-it all to hell and back.”
“Milo, please don’t swear. We’ve talked about that,” a younger female voice said.
Vibro leaped up, ran to the door, opened it a crack and peeked out.
“I can’t believe you’re spying,” Sparky said, still sitting on the couch.
“I’m not spying. I’m ascertaining the threat level,” Vibro whispered back.
“No, you talked about my swearing until we’re both shit and feathers in the face. This is a God-damn-it-to-hell swearing moment. Sometimes the universe just calls for it and who am I to deny the forces that be?” a woman’s voice said.
There was an audible groan that sounded like that of the younger woman.
“And it’s not like we have a lot of choice here,” a softer voice said. “Who knew that one of the movers was going to have an emergency appendectomy and that the other mover was his lover so instead of losing one mover we lost both?”
“I think she’s the voice of reason in the group,” Vibro whispered over her shoulder.
“What’s happening?” Sparky asked.
“They lost their movers and apparently something got dumped over.”
The God-damn-it-all-to-hell voice came wafting upstairs, “No matter, we’ve got to get the fucking bookcase out of the doorway or we won’t be moving any of this shit.”
“You’re swearing again. I don’t think you two should be moving into the city at this point in your life anyway. It’s dangerous. Maybe losing the movers is the universe’s way of exposing your foolishness.”
“They dropped a bookcase while trying to move it,” Vibro informed Sparky.
“Maybe we should go help them. You all helped me with my couch-stuck-in-the-stairway and look how well that turned out. It’s like a good omen. It means that Voice of Reason and Swear Lady will be nice neighbors.”
“Your concerns have been noted,” Swear Lady said, “but we’re grown-ups and if we’re bored with suburbia, that’s our business. We only lived there so you’d have a normal and safe upbringing. That’s done so now it’s our turn to live a little.”
“The daughter sounds like a bit of a stuffed shirt,” Vibro said.
“She might just be at that stage where you’re trying to take care of your parents because they’ve turned into retarded senior citizens,” Sparky replied.
Vibro turned on her. “That is so politically incorrect I don’t even know where to start.”
“That didn’t come out right. I don’t think senior citizens are retarded, but I’ve noticed that adult children have a tendency to view their parents that way. I try not to do that with mine, but sometimes I do it even though I don’t mean to.”
“How do you know they’re senior citizens?” Vibro said.
“I looked out the window.”
“Who’s being a spy now? How old are they?”
“Early sixties, I’d say, but they look pretty hip,” Sparky said, peeking from behind the curtain so she didn’t get caught.
“Let me see,” Vibro said, nudging her aside. She opened the window a crack so they could hear them.
Both women had short gray hair, stylishly cut. One had spiky hair with pink streaks. What was it with Seattle, Sparky thought, that encouraged outrageous hair coloring? Perhaps the perpetually somber sky made them all crave a dash of color to stave off the depression of endless cloudy days. The one with pink hair wore jeans and a vest with at least seventeen pockets, all of which bulged. The other woman was taller and very pretty. She wore a chartreuse hoodie and cross trainers that matched the hoodie.
“I think the one with the hoodie is the Voice of Reason,” Sparky said.
“What are you basing that on?” Vibro said.
“She doesn’t have pink hair.”
“Right.”
They were unloading the truck and putting boxes on the curb, while
the daughter was screaming into her cell phone about “What kind of fucking business are you people running here that you can’t foresee an Goddamn emergency appendectomy and plan accordingly.”
“The daughter seems real type A,” Vibro observed. “And she’s a hypocrite. She’s swearing like a sailor too.”
“The mothers seem pretty go-with-the-flow,” Sparky replied. “You know, they look familiar.” She pulled out her cell phone.
“What are you doing?” Vibro said.
“Checking something out. Hold on a minute.” Sparky pulled up the website for Jackie’s bookstore. “I thought I’d seen their picture. Remember that weekend when we went up to the Olympic Peninsula?”
“Fondly,” Vibro said.
They’d stayed in a cabin with some friends of Vibro and gone hiking in the rain and had fun. Wesson would have bitched the whole time about “It just fucking figures that the one time we go it rains the whole time,” and Sparky would’ve been nervous because they’d be drinking and who knew what that would bring. Instead, she and Vibro had suited up in rain gear and walked the forest trails enjoying the mythic silence. It was almost spiritual, it was so quiet.
“Jackie had those two lesbian writers who were a couple in for a book signing and reading on that weekend.”
“Yes?”
“Those are the women. Don’t you remember the poster advertising the event? It had their picture on it.”
“Oh, I remember now. Wow, we have famous new neighbors moving into Number 4.”
“And they’re gay, not that that matters,” Sparky said.
“But it is nice,” Vibro said. “Come on, let’s go meet them and move some boxes.”
They went downstairs and the type A daughter studied them as they all stood in the hallway of the building. The open door of Apartment Number 4 revealed the fallen bookcase. Sparky registered what Vibro was wearing. It was her English country gentleman getup with the trousers and vest—a good look for her. Sparky had on her usual khakis and a white T-shirt.
Vibro was unfazed by the daughter’s unblinking stare. “Hello, we’re your neighbors. I’m Vibro and this is Sparky. We live upstairs.”
Love Over Moon Street Page 28
