Barbie has owned and operated this shop for the past thirty plus years. Just as Dolly has owned and operated the Dairy Dream for just as long. They both purchased their store spaces at the same time and have been best friends forever. Both of them married their high school sweethearts, right out of high school, and now widowed. Barbie has three kids, two of which help her run her store, and Dolly has a son. I don’t know much about him.
To be honest, I envy them both. They both have remarkable establishments and have been best friends for over forty years. I can only pray that one-day Roni and I will have a similar story, except we will be sharing in the company, not owning separate ones. It’s one of those things you don’t see or hear about every day, except maybe here in Heartfair. It really is an amazing town.
Glancing over the plethora of deliciousness, I hone in on what I came for—biscotti. Knowing precisely what I order she calls for one of her workers.
“Get Lex, two dozen biscotti; One dozen of the salted caramel and a dozen of cinnamon and sugar ones.” She orders, taking out all the guess work for me. She never steers me wrong.
“The ones with the glaze or not?” The young blonde woman, who I think might be her granddaughter, asks,
“With the cream cheese glaze, Oh, and put in two of the nut and seed ones; on the house.” She rattles off and affectionately squeezes me hand.
Turning to me she explains, “Those are new ones I’ve not made before. Lots of people like them. I want you to try. Since you are my biscotti aficionado, I want to make sure I got the recipe just perfect.” Winking at me, she escorts me, by hand, like a child to the register. If it was anyone else but her or Dolly, I might be offended. Not with Barbie though, she’s like another mother to me, or perhaps a grandmother. I’ve never had one of those.
Paying with cash, I give Barbie another hug and as I turn to leave, she says. “Oh, Lex, I forgot.”
Nearly to the door, I turn back around to face her as she strolls toward me. “I thought you should know that there has been quite the interest in you and what you order here.”
Confoundedly crinkling my brow, I evenly ask. “What do you mean quite a bit of interest?”
“There has been three gentlemen inquiring your likes and dislikes, not to me directly, of course. Only a fool would ask about my Lex, directly, but Sally has had some questions. A man with dark hair was in the other day, had a chocolate cherry coke float and flirted a little with Sally. She’s new, so she couldn’t tell me his name. Just said he was asking a lot of questions about you. Being new, she couldn’t answer the questions he posed, except what I’ve already filled her in on. That you own the cosmetics company here in town, you’re one of my favorite customers and always come in for biscotti. Except you’re a day early. I don’t usually see you until Friday.”
“Bob was over…”
Cutting me off with the raise of her hand, she busts out in laughter and covers her mouth. “I heard about that. I hear he and Veronica put on quite the show last night.”
Rolling my eyes and smirking, I nod. “Yep, it was a doozy. A very long one.”
Wiping the laughable tears pricking her eyes with her fingertips, she replies. “I know. Poor Lincoln was in here for his morning coffee and the man was stopped four times from people asking questions. Nosy, nosy, people in this town.” She winks.
“Yes, and I’m guessing the nosy man flirting with poor Shelly was Gage. He was probably trying to extract as much dirt on me as he can. He’s representing a company in suing mine.”
“Ahhh…I know, I heard. I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t get the feeling the man was Gage, though. If you’ve seen that handsome boy it’s hard to forget him, especially all those tattoos.”
Nodding, in agreement, I mutter. “I guess you’re right. I know he’s from around here, but I’ve not met him before now. I know it’s not a huge town, and I can’t know everybody. But, you’re right he’s hard to forget.”
Chatting a few more minutes about Roni and this mystery man, I hug Barbie again and head out. I want to get home and raid Roni’s closet tonight before we go out to the Devil’s Den tomorrow. She needs a presentable outfit to wear, especially if this is her and Bob’s coming out party; coming out of the bedroom that is.
“Seriously? Veronica Ann Phoenix, you have the worst and most disgusting closet I’ve ever fucking seen!” I’m past my breaking point. I don’t know how this crazy woman finds anything in her apartment. It looks like an entire horde of gremlins got lose in here and trashed the place. No woman should live like this.
Standing in her bedroom, it doesn’t smell like anything but sex and ashtrays. It’s vile. Now…don’t get me wrong, I understand that Bob smokes. I really do. But smoking in here after sex is totally cliché, not to mention stinky and just plain gross. I can’t see a stitch of her carpet. Which, if I remember correctly, is a beige of some sort. It’s covered in piles of clothes, pop bottles and blankets. Her bed isn’t even close to being made. The pillows aren’t even on it. And one of the blinds is hanging half off its track.
I can’t believe this woman is my best friend. I have no idea how I’m going to find a single clean thing in this place that would be acceptable for her to wear.
Sitting on the edge of her queen sized bed, she grunts. “Yeah…I know it’s pretty bad, huh?”
Pretty bad? She thinks this is pretty bad? I saw a pizza box sitting on her coffee table growing some serious green hairy mold when I walked into her living room. That is not pretty anything. It’s a rank biohazard, and it’s disgusting. I will need to perform a complete decontamination process on myself when I head back down stairs, into my nice, clean and most importantly, pleasant smelling home.
Correct me if I’m wrong. Say you walk into a place, it’s a pigsty, but it smells half way decent. It doesn’t seem as bad, does it? Then picture yourself walking into a place just as dirty but smelled like rotted garbage, musky come, and cigarettes. Then…how would you feel? Probably how I do, because that’s what the rest of her place smells like. N.A.S.T.Y.
Stepping on a mountain of something, I’m not sure what it is. It looks like clothes, but I’m not lifting the pile to find out what might be underneath. Rats are probably nesting in here.
“It’s not pretty bad. It’s real bad. We both have a lot of money and you need to use it to have a biohazard cleanup team to come in and decontaminate your living quarters.” I state is as evenly and calmly as I can. And I mean every single damned word.
“I know.” She slumps and I bend down to pick up what resembles a black something, off the floor of her bare closet. There isn’t a single thing hanging in here, and the floor of it has another mountain of what I assume are clean clothes piling up. Or I pray it’s that, because I don’t want some blood crazed clothes monster to manifest and attack me. The organisms living in this place could probably sustain an entire ecosystem. A clothes monster doesn’t seem so far out of reach.
Raising the black something into the air, I shake it hard; pinching it between two fingers to unwrinkle the ball it’s cemented in.
Ah…it’s a shirt. Holding it out, I examine it. It’s not a shirt I think I’ve ever seen Roni wear. It’s a V-neck cotton tank with a cute flaming red heart in the center. This will have to do. I don’t have the stomach to look much longer.
Showing it to her, she shrugs. “Yes?” I press further.
“It’s fine. I don’t care.”
Alright, something’s up.
Climbing through her gross clothes in my heels, pencil skirt and silk white pheasant top, I get close enough to her bed that I rest a hand on her shoulder.
“What’s up, Sassy Britches?”
“I don’t want to go.”
Okay, now she’s moping. I’d mope too if I lived in a place like this, but I know that’s not what she’s referring too. Dating and Roni don’t exactly mix, just as me and dating don’t. Except our reasons aren’t the same, per say. Mine is mainly a physical one with emotional baggage. Hers is a tombo
y one. In her mind and the way she acts, she’s not so much of a girl as she is a guy. She fits in with men, she likes manly things, she dresses like a dude, has the sex drive of a dude. Although she doesn’t have a gender identity problem, she’s okay with being a woman and having a vagina and a set of nice knockers. We’ve talked about this many times. Just as most men suck at dating. She sucks at it just as much, if not worse. I think it’s fear that gets its big ugly nose in the way. Fear that whomever she’s with will expect her to be something she’s not. She could never and would never be like me. I’m girly and female to my very core. She’s not. That’s one of the things I love most about her.
“Listen.” I rub her shoulder. I’d hug her but that would make her more uncomfortable.
“I know dating isn’t going to be easy with Bob. I know you really like him. He’s a nice guy. Cute, sweet and obviously likes to bang the living shit outa ya. Give it a go, and I’ll hold your hand. K?”
“K. Thanks.” She sighs, relaxing her tense shoulders.
Five more minutes of standing here with her and draping the black shirt over her shoulders, she seems to be in a little better place now. I take that as my cue and skedaddle.
“If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” I remind her, standing in the doorway between her bedroom and the rest of her apartment.
“Yes, Lex. In the tub, listening to Patsy and probably trying to ignore the fact you just blew off a perfectly acceptable man.”
Rolling me eyes and stomping my heel on the floor in anger. She looks at me, making eye contact.
“Stop reading my emails!” I snap.
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just tell me about them.”
“They are none of your business. If I wanted help, I would ask for it. I don’t like him anymore. He’s gotta be a crazy lunatic, and I know a man like him would never accept me. Even if he’s been through some of the stuff I have. Trust me; he’s not been through it all.”
“At least he has experienced some of what you have. Isn’t that better than nothing at all?”
“No! Not dating at all is better. I like my life, Roni; I want to keep it that way it is. No men. Period. I get my kicks when I need them with Daniel. And I’m not a nympho so the few times a week works just fine.”
I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself. It’s true Daniel feeds my sexual hunger. Which as of late have been arising ten times more than it ever has before. And before him I didn’t have anyone feed my sexual need. It barely existed. All I have to do is look in the mirror and think of Brian, and all of those gruesome acts. That shuts down the lady throbbing between my legs faster than a speeding bullet. Cuts and gashes leave scars and I’ve got enough to make an entire roadmap on my body. Front and back. Where does it lead to? I dunno. I can tell you this for sure though, my body is no wonderland. It’s a battlefield.
Chapter Ten
In front of the mirror, I twirl around three times. I’m standing in my bathroom making sure I’m looking my best for tonight’s festivities; we’re going downtown to the Devil’s Den.
Last night, after I left Roni, I did what she said I would. I took a bath, listened to Patsy and drank two glasses of wine. When I got out I lounged in my silk red nightgown, tucked into my soft luxurious bed and I read my vintage Canterbury Tales book, which I’ve read from cover to cover over half dozen times. It’s not the easiest read but I thoroughly enjoy it. Chaucer is extraordinarily prolific with his choices and uses of words. I think that’s why I find him positively fascinating.
‘In my part of the land there used to be
An archdeacon, a man of high degree,
Who’d execute with bold determination
The punishment for acts of fornication,
Of pander, also of sorcery,
Of defamation and adultery,
Of errant churchmen, of false testaments
And contracts and of lack of sacraments,
Of usury and simony also.’
This is one of my favorite excerpts from Chaucer’s writings. He’s amazing, I tell ya.
This morning I woke up, spent an extra twenty minutes gracefully curving and flowing through a yoga routine I use to anchor my chi into a more relaxed state. Then I showered and went downstairs to have tea with Roni in the kitchen, per usual. She seemed to be in a slightly better mood than last evening. We tried the nut biscotti Barbie had given us and I loved it, Roni, not so much. She likes her biscotti to be less nutty and more fruity or chocolaty, although, she does love the other two. I liked the cinnamon sugar better than the salted caramel, by only a small fraction. Then I went to work. It was a quiet day. Thank God. Now I have twenty minutes until I meet Roni at the Devil’s Den. Bob took her out to dinner to Vino’s tonight, before they meet up with a group of his friends and me. Poor Roni, she doesn’t get close with many females. I’m the only close friend she has. So we’re stuck together.
Examining myself in the mirror, I run down my mental checklist. Lipstick - check; I’m wearing a nude shade tonight. Eye shadow - check, going subtle with greens and a hint of gold. Blush, foundation, eyeliner, mascara - check, check, check, check. Good, that’s all completed.
My hair, I’ve left down; it’s naturally straight, silky smooth and abundantly full. I know most women would kill to have hair like mine. It’s nice and looks better down than up tonight.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to wear out. Like a typical woman, I tried on ten different dresses and skirt combinations. I don’t wear pants or shorts often. I stick with dresses and skirts, they appear more professional, and let’s face it, they’re sexier. God knows, I love to feel sexy.
Twirling one more time, I smile and smooth my hair in my wide bathroom mirror that’s above my single bowl vanity. I feel beyond beautiful tonight. This Allen Swartz jade green lace overlay, stretch knit designer dress is to die for! It has a nude lining that matches my skin color exactly. I’m on the taller side for a woman so it hits me a few inches above the knee. I’ve paired it with a pair of shiny nude colored four-inch stilettos. My bag for the night is a golden clutch that I will end up leaving at the table when I dance. It’s Heartfair; nobody is going to steal my money.
Walking up the sidewalk to the Devil’s Den, I never thought the place would be this packed on a Friday night, not that I have much to go on. I haven’t been to a bar to party, in God knows how long. The music is so loud I can hear it from out here. The front of the bar isn’t much to look at. There’s a sign above the brown metal door that says the bars name and that’s it. The building is old, three stories and brick, just like most of the other buildings in this town.
Dodging a stumbling drunk man slurring his way out the door, his cell phone glued to his ear. I walk through the front door of the bar and stop right inside, glancing between and over a hoard of people. Praying I can find Roni in here. I texted her five minutes ago to tell her I’d just parked. Which, by the way, was two blocks away. There were no other parking spaces available.
The music is thumping something about a window to a wall. I don’t listen to rap, so I couldn’t tell ya a damn thing about it. I can dance to it though. I can dance to just about anything.
Standing here, there is no way I can see her or Bob, and she couldn’t hear a text or call over all of this noise.
Righting myself by smoothing down the sides of my dress, I take in a deep breath and press forward into the crowd, my purse securely clutched in my hand. I duck under a man’s flailing arm. He must be in some serious drunken argument with his girlfriend. Shimmying past a group of frat boys, I inch closer and closer to the dance floor.
The Devil’s Den is devoid of anything resembling fancy or refined. It’s as basic as it comes. Wooden bar, high tables, metal stools with black rotating tops, two plasma TVs hung on the wall, a dance floor, DJ on the weekends, and copious amounts of alcohol. The walls are exposed brick and plastered with beer posters and neon signs. In the back, there are two pool tables and a dartboard. It’s not much and tonig
ht it seriously reeks of testosterone and horny women. Or maybe that’s my imagination.
Vigilantly bobbing and weaving in and out of the throng of bar goers, I finally spot Roni. She’s sitting at a high table on the edge of the dance floor, wearing the tank I found in her messy apartment, with jeans and surprisingly her auburn hair is presentable. She looks hot! I love seeing Roni like this.
“Hey.” I yell, claiming a stool across from her.
“Hey!” She smiles wide, taking a long pull from her Bud Light bottle.
“How was dinner? Where’s Bob?”
Talking this loudly, guarantees that I’ll be hoarse by the end of the night and possibly deaf, too. It’s wild in here. Women and a few men are bumping and grinding on the dance floor. We’re down to standing room. There isn’t an open seat and barely an open place to stand. I didn’t even know we had this many people in Heartfair.
“Dinner was great! Bob’s there.” She points over to the bar where Bob is standing. He is wearing a pair of ratty old jeans, Hanes tee and his work boots. His hair’s buzz cut so short, he’s almost bald. Chatting with him is Auto; his boss, Tank; who is another man he works with at Auto’s Auto Body. Then there’s two men I recognize but don’t know their names, and they’re chatting with Corey. I had no idea he’d be here and…the biggest pain in my tuckus is fraternizing alongside them. Gage Masterson, I swear he and Corey are attached at the damn hip. Why is he even here?
Just as he notices I’m looking at him, Gage lifts a glass of something dark red in greeting, flashing me his sexy smoldering smile. It looks like Merlot in his glass. But I could be wrong. It’s funny; I pegged him as a beer drinker or maybe whiskey. Definitely not wine.
Lex (Unconventional Hearts) Page 10
