The Young Wives Club

by Julie Pennell

  “No problem,” Tony chimed in. “We’ll have it to you first thing Monday.”

  “Perfect!” Missy hugged them both. “We’re gonna make sure this wedding is so magical, you’re going to feel like you’re living in a dream.”

  Gabby flashed a nervous smile. It wasn’t the dream she was worried about. It’s what would happen when reality set in.

  22

  madison

  “SO, HOW WAS it?” Claire asked Madison as she chopped bell peppers for the seafood rice she was making for dinner. A country song played in the background on her laptop. A man with a deep voice sang, praising chew tobacco, bourbon, and the man upstairs.

  “It was . . . it was really nice,” Madison said, leaning forward on the counter to see Claire’s chopping skills in action.

  “Well, did y’all kiss?” Claire looked up and smiled.

  “Oh god, Claire.” Madison huffed. “You don’t have to be awkward about it.” She walked over to the fruit bowl and grabbed an apple.

  “Um, when have you ever not kissed and told?” her cousin said. “I always have to hear about what you’ve done with Cash . . . at least let me have this one, where I genuinely care.”

  “Yeah right! You genuinely care only so that you can make me feel guilty . . . like I’m using this poor guy to get money. Well, guess what. I don’t feel guilty.” Madison flashed a sly grin.

  At first the car ride from New Orleans had been filled with overly bright observations (Oh! Look at that Tesla! Or: I think that truck driver is having a little too much fun by himself . . .) and long pauses, as if neither of them could quite move past their awkward good-bye the night before. But by the time they’d hit Baton Rouge, Madison had George laughing so hard he almost drove off the highway. When he’d dropped her off at home, he’d given her a hug and invited her to Harvest, the nicest restaurant in Lafayette.

  “Fine,” Claire said, chopping the pepper harder now. “Well, don’t come crawlin’ to me for advice when this whole little plot of yours bites you in the butt.”

  Madison chomped down on the apple. The way things were going, she thought she’d need Claire’s advice just about never. “You’ll be the last one I call. Promise.” She perched herself on the countertop.

  “Why are you still here?” Claire said, looking up at her very comfortable house guest. “You’re not stayin’ for dinner are you? ’Cause I only got enough for me and Gavin.”

  “Nah, I’m gonna go home.” She shook her head and dangled her feet. “I haven’t seen my parents much since I’ve been home from New Orleans.”

  “What the heck have you been doing?” Claire looked up at her with judging eyes. “You’ve been home for two days now.”

  “I got busy.” Madison shrugged her shoulders, thinking of how Cash had shown up on his motorcycle and taken her away to his parents’ cabin, fake-casually asking how her weekend with George was before throwing her down on the futon.

  She jumped from the counter, her feet landing on the floor, and kissed her cousin good-bye on the cheek.

  “Love you,” Claire said as Madison walked out of the room.

  “Sure ya do,” she yelled back with sass.

  • • •

  “WHAT ARE Y’ALL doing?” Madison asked when she walked into the den and saw her parents boxing up her mom’s collection of porcelain dolls. She’d always found their round eyes and overly made-up faces creepy, but they were her mom’s prized possessions.

  “Oh, just doing some spring cleaning,” her mom said in a high voice. She looked at her husband as if to say, “Did that sound convincing?”

  “It’s not spring yet,” Madison pointed out. “Why are you getting rid of your dolls?”

  “We’re gonna have a garage sale,” her dad said, taking a sip from his blue tumbler. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hands trembled slightly. “Out with the old, in with the new.”

  Madison processed this conversation for a moment. “Does this have anything to do with money?” She turned to her mom, who couldn’t tell a lie. “Are y’all selling things because Daddy isn’t working anymore?”

  Her mom teared up but didn’t answer.

  “Daddy?” Madison asked, turning to her father.

  He walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Gotta pay the mortgage somehow, darlin’.”

  Madison’s stomach dropped. She knew times were tight but had no idea it had gotten this bad. “But, Mom. You love those things.” Madison looked at her mother as she boxed up Bella, her beloved blond doll who wore a satin pink dress covered with bows. “There’s gotta be something else we can sell, right?” She glanced at her dad.

  He walked over to the glass sliding door and looked out at the old rickety boat.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Madison begged. That boat was more than a possession—it was their memories, and something that would last long after her dad’s illness had stolen him from them.

  “That should give us a couple ’a thousand.” He walked back over and put his frail hand on her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but we need to do this.”

  “I’ll fix it,” Madison blurted out. “I’ll get the money. I promise.”

  She went to her bedroom and closed the door. A wave of sadness crashed over her, and she couldn’t control the tears. The last time she had cried was when she got into a fistfight with Jenny Wiggins in seventh grade. That girl was a bitch. And strong. And probably still had that clump of hair she yanked from Madison’s head stored in some weird collection she kept of her enemies’ body parts.

  Madison looked around her bedroom. It was pretty bare—there was nothing she could sell, save for the signed Black Keys poster Cash brought her from a music festival he played at last summer. But the money she’d get from that would be mere pennies. She looked at her white dresser and caught a glimpse of the Tiffany box sitting on top of it. Madison stood up, walked over, and opened it up. The strand of pearls felt heavy in her palm.

  She shifted the necklace from one hand to the other, the pearls hitting against each other with a light clack. As much as she loved them, they didn’t feel right in her hands. Pearls like these belonged to the rich ladies she and her mom worked for, not her. They needed to be in a velvet-lined jewelry box among other pearls and diamonds and gemstones, not next to a couple of faux leather-wrap bracelets and a cheap metal ear cuff from Claire’s Accessories. She wasn’t meant to have nice stuff, she convinced herself. Not when she had the chance to help her parents.

  • • •

  “I GET A cut, right?” Cash asked as they walked to the pawnshop on Main Street.

  “Yeah, right,” Madison said, holding the box tightly in her hand. According to the quick Google search she’d done before they left the house, she had to have been carrying a couple of thousand dollars. It would be enough to tide her parents over for a month or two.

  “Pfft,” Cash said. “You wouldn’t even know what to say to ol’ man LeRoy. I’m a regular pawner. He’s good to me.”

  “You get me a good trade, and I’ll give you something good,” Madison said with a flirty wink.

  “It better involve you being naked,” Cash said, running a finger along her waist.

  “Gross,” she fired back at him.

  “Hmm . . . you don’t usually seem to think that,” he said, grinning.

  She turned to face the road, waiting for the crosswalk signal to turn. As they stood there, shivering in the cloudy weather, guilt settled in her stomach. She remembered how George had rehearsed his speech when he gave her the necklace and how eager he’d been to clasp it around her neck. But then she closed her eyes and thought about her parents and their house. She nodded, steeling herself—this was the right thing to do.

  A line of cars began passing them, a parade of rumbling motors and exhaust fumes. One of the cars honked twice from up the street. Madison turned her head toward the sound and watched as a silver vehicle drove toward them. As the car slowly made its way across the intersection, she rea
lized it wasn’t just a silver car. It was a silver Porsche.

  Her whole body went weak as the vehicle inched closer, coming to a gradual halt in front of her. The window rolled down and George flashed her a goofy grin. She forced herself to smile and waved with her hand that wasn’t holding the necklace. Maybe he won’t see, she thought, quickly hiding the box behind her back. But she was too late. He blinked twice and, as if in slow motion, turned his head to look across the street at the neon-lettered LEROY’S PAWN SHOP sign. Her heart sank as he glanced back at Madison and Cash, lowered his eyes, and waved good-bye. She stood there, mouth open as his silver Porsche drove away.

  “What the hell was that?” Cash asked after the car was down the road.

  Madison stood there speechless, looking at the blue box in her hands. She felt as though she might throw up, and it had nothing to do with that hot dog she had for lunch.

  “Oh my god,” Cash said. “Was that him? Was that the old guy?”

  Madison dropped her head in her hand, not wanting to believe what had just happened.

  Cash laughed out loud. “Oh man, this is great,” he said. “Just great.”

  “Shut up,” Madison said, punching him in the arm. “Just shut up, okay?” She tried to collect her thoughts and figure out what to do. For the first time in her life, Madison felt evil. Like, no-good, scummy, nasty evil, and she didn’t like it.

  “Geez, what’s up your ass? It’s not like you actually liked him,” he said, turning to her. His harsh voice turned sweet, and he lifted her chin with his finger. “Want me to kiss you and make it better?” Before she could even answer, he bent down, and right in the middle of Main Street, he kissed her.

  “Better, right?” Cash said when he pulled away.

  Madison nodded her head. But of course she didn’t feel any better. Cash of all people should know that she was just really good at lying.

  23

  laura

  AS MR. LEBLANC handed back the graded tests, a mix of cheers and moans filled the room. Laura prayed that she wouldn’t fall into the latter group.

  “Nice work,” her teacher said, tossing a paper on her desk. Her entire body relaxed when she saw the “A-” scribbled at the top in bold red ink. She looked over at Vince, who gave her a thumbs-up, then spotted the “A+” written at the top of his. Of course.

  Vince and Laura left class together, passing Riley, Rory, and Emma, who were huddled around a desk, comparing their bad grades. Laura and Riley locked eyes, and both quickly turned away.

  Laura smiled at Vince. “I think we should celebrate,” she said as they walked through the hall. Lockers clanged open and shut, and a group of sophomore girls bumped into them, blushing when they saw Vince.

  “What are you doing after school?” Vince asked. “Want to check out that new ice cream place that just opened up, Delicious-something or other?’ ”

  Laura laughed. “You mean ‘Udderly Delicious’?”

  “Seriously?” Vince wrinkled his nose.

  “Yeah. Tragic, right?” It was a family-owned shop. Horrible name, but according to the Town Talk, great ice cream.

  “Completely. You in?” He adjusted his backpack on his shoulder, and Laura caught a whiff of his woodsy cologne.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said. “Oh wait. Do you mind if Brian comes, too? I forgot, he’s picking me up today.” Though Brian was still hobbling around with a brace on his leg, it was luckily on the left side; he was comfortable behind the wheel now.

  They’d finally finished the insurance appeal over the weekend, and ever since they’d mailed it, Brian had almost been back to his old self. He whistled while he helped his mom make her famous crawfish soup, and they’d even managed to have sex yesterday morning without Janet walking in on them. Still, as much as she tried to push her unease aside, something was bothering her. Perhaps she was just worried about the appeal. It was one thing to send in the paperwork; it was another to get the green light on the surgery.

  If she was being honest with herself, though, Vince’s comment the other week had gotten under her skin. He’d said she had potential—but for what, exactly? She was working so hard in school, but she didn’t know to what end. Was a diploma from Toulouse High as far as she’d go? And was it really enough to stand from the sidelines, cheering Brian on?

  “That’d be cool,” Vince said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “I’d love to finally meet ‘The Legend.’ ”

  Laura raised her eyebrows at the sarcastic edge to his voice, but Vince just winked and told her he’d meet her in the parking lot after school.

  Before her next class started, she bent down in her seat to text Brian from inside her backpack. Mrs. Baldwin had a policy of making you read your last five text messages out loud if you were caught with a phone in class. Laura blushed thinking about the sexy selfie she had sent Brian from work the evening before. As she tapped the screen, she noticed he had already written to her.

  Can’t make it today, babe. You’ll find a ride?

  A strange feeling of relief washed over her. “No prob,” she typed and then tucked the phone back into her bag just as Mrs. Baldwin called for attention at the front of the room. For some reason, she had a feeling she’d have more fun if he wasn’t there.

  • • •

  “I’M SERIOUS!” LAURA squealed, laughing so hard that her face was probably the color of her red velvet ice cream.

  The parlor was surprisingly modern, with Lucite tables, a blond-wood soda fountain bar, and brushed metal stools. The owner of the shop, an overweight middle-aged guy, hummed along to the zydeco music playing on the speakers. He crumbled up Red Hots and cinnamon into chocolate ice cream while shaking his shoulders along with the music. His moves reminded Laura of her dad, who was physically incapable of cleaning up after dinner without dancing to eighties music.

  “You mean to tell me Mrs. Baldwin had no idea her skirt was tucked into her tights? I don’t believe it!” Vince laughed. “Also, she’s like a hundred. No one wants to see that.”

  “I know,” Laura said. “Also, I can’t believe none of us told her. That’s kind of bitchy, huh?” She flashed a devious smile.

  “Wasn’t she the one who made Jack Robicheaux cry?”

  “To be fair, she confiscated his vintage Playboy collection, and we all know how, um, special those are to him.” Laura shuddered. “And he got two months of detention because of it. But yeah, that’s her. The infamous Mrs. Baldwin.”

  “Karma, man . . .” he said, scooping out a chunk of his Tabasco jalapeño ice cream. “Okay, I’m gonna try this. Wish me luck.” He took a bite and looked up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad at all.” He pushed the cup toward her. “Here, try it.”

  She dipped her pink plastic spoon into his ice cream. “This is weird,” she admitted as the flavors—somehow both spicy and sweet—dissolved on her tongue. “But I like it.” Laura scooted his bowl back to him. “Can you believe there’s only a few more months left of school?”

  “Yeah, it’s insane.” He shook his head. “What are ya gonna miss the most?”

  Laura considered the question. She’d already had the experience of leaving high school, so in many ways, she’d already made her peace with it ending. “Well, not the people, that’s for sure. My three best friends are out of high school already, and as for everyone else . . . frankly, I’ll be happy if I never see any of them again.” She shrugged.

  Vince grinned. “Really? You won’t miss anyone?”

  She snuck another quick bite of his ice cream. “Okay, fine. I might miss you, study buddy. But only because you share your snacks.” He laughed again, and Laura felt a warmth bloom in her chest. “To be totally honest, though, I think I’m going to miss schoolwork. I know it’s so nerdy, but there’s something incredibly satisfying about doing a problem and getting it right.”

  He nodded slowly. “I completely agree. And not to keep poking at a sore spot, but that’s part of the reason I’m excited to go
to college.”

  She scraped the bowl with her spoon to get the last bits of her ice cream. “Well . . . I’ve been thinking about what we talked about the other day,” she said. “You know, the whole me-not-going-to-college thing.”

  His eyes sparkled. “Oh yeah?”

  “I even had a dream the other night where I was walking across a college campus with a bunch of heavy books in my bag,” she confided. “Well, at first they were books but then they turned into spray paint canisters, and this guy wearing a leather jacket—who I think was supposed to be John Travolta—started serenading me.” She took a sip of her Coke. “I had fallen asleep watching Grease,” she explained.

  Vince nodded with an “Oh, that makes more sense” kind of look.

  “But when I woke up, that feeling of being on campus as a student lingered. It was nice to be there as something more than a visitor. It just felt—I don’t know—right,” she confessed.

  “Maybe your dream was trying to tell you something,” he said, resting his elbows on the table and leaning closer.

  “I don’t know. You think?” Laura looked up at him.

  He nodded enthusiastically. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.” His voice softened. “You should go to college, kid.” He playfully nudged her foot under the table.

  “Thanks, man,” she said, nudging him back. “I’m gonna look into it, I think.” She knew that many of the deadlines had passed, but now that Brian’s insurance appeal was finally done and submitted, she actually had time to do some research. Maybe she could even go to LSU with Brian when he returned for the next football season.

  She tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly a little embarrassed. “I just wanted to say thank you for encouraging me to do this. I know I was kind of a brat when you first brought it up, but the idea has grown on me.”

  Vince’s eyes lit up. “Well, I’m happy I could help.”

  “Can I ask you something?” she said. “How long have you had your life planned out?”

  He gave her a surprised look. “You think I have my life planned out?”