by Vanessa Vale
The customer beamed at Goldie, handed her three twenties. “All right, I will.”
“Tell him to have a safe—and fun—trip.” Goldie handed over the change.
Jack had taken to checking out the displays of fur lined handcuffs during this exchange. The tips of his ears were red. Interesting.
“So, Jack. Into handcuffs, are you?” Goldie asked.
He put the hardware down with a clatter and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. Like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He cleared his throat.
“I'm more interested in handcuffs than”—he pointed his finger toward the door where the woman just left—“the thing that woman got.”
Goldie nodded, tilted her head down to stare intently at Jack over her reading glasses. “A pocket pussy. It's for a guy who is all alone.” She had that furry angora sweater on again, little motes of fluff lifted off and floated in the air around her when she moved. “I heard you're leaving tonight.”
Her lack of subtlety was not lost on me and I enjoyed watching Jack squirm. He could never work in an adult store if he couldn't say the words 'pocket pussy' out loud.
“Yes, ma'am. I've got things to take care of back in Florida.”
“We sure will miss—”
The door slammed open, cutting off Goldie's words. There, backlit by the brightness of the late afternoon sun and a half foot of snow, stood Lorraine. She hobbled in, shoving the door shut behind her, a cold breeze whooshing over us. She looked worse than I'd ever seen her.
18
The pink coat had down falling out of it in places like it had mange. Her nose was buried beneath big white bandages, and she had two black eyes giving her the appearance of a raccoon. Her hand was still wrapped in its own bandages, but a loose end hung down, all snarled and tangled. On top of that, she wore a big black medical boot on her left foot, Velcro straps securing it in place, her jeans cut up the front to part around it, toes peeking out the end. They had to be cold walking in all the new snow.
“Lorraine, what happened to you?” I asked, approaching her, concerned.
She held up a hand to stop me, her eyes wild, her breathing ragged. Jack stilled me by grabbing my wrist, pulling me back gently toward him. I felt his warm, solid chest against my back. His thumb ran idly over the back of my hand.
“You! You did this to me!”
She thunked over, hobbling like a peg-legged pirate, to point her bony finger into my chest.
“How?”
Before she could reply, her eyes darted to the counter. “Holy shit. What the hell is that thing doing here? Is this a sick joke or something?”
I turned my head and saw George staring at Lorraine, his smile now looking like a leer.
Goldie must have sensed the garden gnome's imminent danger as she grabbed it and stuck it behind the counter, out of sight. “That's my grandson's garden gnome. It can't harm anyone.”
“Oh, yeah? How do you think I got this?” Lorraine held up her bandaged hand and pointed to her nose.
Goldie stood behind the counter, slack jawed, watching. Lorraine was like a talk show come to life and it was all happening right in Goldie's store. She was in heaven. “Now that I know what happened to your nose, what happened to your hand?”
Lorraine had a cagey look on her face, her eyes darting from Goldie to me. “I...um...I burned it.”
A niggling feeling settled in my stomach.
“That is a deadly weapon,” Lorraine replied, talking about George. Not one to be steered off track, she turned back to me. “I saw you this morning with Ronald and I followed you.”
“Me? You couldn't have seen me. I was with him.” I waved my thumb over my shoulder behind me. Jack shrugged his shoulders as I turned to look at him.
“Ha! I knew you two got together,” Goldie added triumphantly.
Lorraine laughed, and not in a ha-ha funny sort of way. Clearly, she was losing her mind.
“With lover boy here? Yeah, right. I saw you. This morning. Driving with Ronald. Remember, you told me you'd be leaving around nine? Well, you were a little late, but I was definitely able to follow you.”
“I wasn't with any man but—”
Jack squeezed my shoulders. “Miller, I think there's an easy explanation for this.”
All eyes were on him. Goldie remained frozen where she was, her head tilted as if she were trying to listen extra closely. Lorraine was breathing heavily, but was listening, and so was I.
“Violet's home,” he said.
“Your imaginary twin?” Lorraine asked incredulously.
Realization dawned on me. That weaselly, two-timing, look-alike, conniving sister. “Lorraine, I think we can get this resolved right now.” I pulled my cell from my pocket, speed dialed my sister.
“Hey, V,” Violet answered after the third ring.
“Are you back in town yet?” I asked.
I heard some rustling, a door slam. “Doing laundry.”
“Hey, listen, I'm at Goldilocks and someone dropped a package off here.” I wasn't about to ask her about Ronald and the voicemail I'd left for her. She could duck out with some excuse and I'd be stuck with Lorraine. I wanted Violet and Lorraine in the same room to work this out.
Lorraine was watching me with interest, but obviously still didn't believe the twin story.
“There's some confusion if it's for you or me, so I need you to come down,” I told Violet.
“Right now?” Violet sighed. “I've had a long day and I need—”
“Yes.” I cut her off. Enough about what she needed. “I need you to come down right now!” I pushed End and wanted to strangle my sister through the phone. Jack squeezed my shoulders in what I thought was a very reassuring gesture.
Goldie must have come to her senses as she came around the counter and pulled up a stool for Lorraine. “Here, you have a seat. Tell me what on earth happened to you.”
Lorraine seemed pacified by Goldie's attentions, by the strange clucking noises she made. Lorraine settled down once she got comfortable. She pointed to her leg. “This, from skiing.”
“Um, excuse me?” a customer asked, interrupting Lorraine right at the good part.
Since Goldie was doing her tending bit, I stepped up. “What can I do for you?” I wanted to hear Lorraine's story, but the customer came first.
The man was in his fifties with a pot belly and a receding hairline like Homer Simpson. Light coat. He was one of those men whose internal temperatures burned extra hot because he was sweating, little beads dotting his bald forehead when the rest of us were cold, even with our long underwear beneath our clothes.
Everyone stared at him. Jack, Lorraine, Goldie and I were giving him more attention than he probably wanted. Poor man.
“I...um,” he leaned in close to me, all but whispered, “I rented Cream Pie Academy last week and wanted to know if there was a sequel.”
“Sure, let me check,” I smiled at the man, trying to reassure him Goldilocks was a discreet place to shop. I went behind the counter and looked under the C's.
“You went skiing today?” Jack asked Lorraine while I was occupied. I turned to look back over the counter. Drat, I wanted to hear this.
“I was following you,” she pointed at me again. “You and Ronald went down the mogul run. I don't do moguls. You were too fast for me and I fell, broke my ankle. Ski patrol had to bring me down the mountain then an ambulance took me to the ER. They know me by name over there now.”
Maybe it was safer with me behind the counter. Sounded like a painful, miserable experience.
I turned back to my search when I realized Homer was waiting a little impatiently. Cream Pie, Cream Pie, yes. There it was. I pulled the movie and handed it to Homer, now standing at the counter. He seemed to be looking at me differently since he thought it was my fault Lorraine broke her ankle. I smiled at him, hoping he'd think I was innocent.
“Four dollars, please,” I said.
Goldie patted Lorraine on the arm. “Oh, dear. What a terr
ible thing to happen. And your nose, too.” Goldie was a very kind woman. She took care of everyone in town, whether through being a customer at the store, or just a friend or neighbor. Everyone knew Goldie, and she knew everyone within a fifty-mile radius.
Her son, Nate, Jane’s first husband, died several years before from some kind of heart attack or something, but she'd never lost the mothering gene. I found she tended to have lots of chicks to take care of, including myself.
With Lorraine's multiple wounds and sad story of spousal infidelity, with me, nonetheless, Goldie swooped in to protect the meek. And boy, did Lorraine look meek sitting there. Feathers, bruises, bandages and leg braces.
“The doc who took care of my foot says he knows you.”
Now Homer raised an eyebrow at me.
“Oh?” I commented, although it wasn't much of a surprise someone knew me since it was a small town.
“Dr. O or some such letter.”
I nodded. “Sure, Mike Ostranski.”
“Wanted me to tell you the paddle was working out. Make any sense to you?” Lorraine eyed me suspiciously.
Now Homer had both eyebrows raised. Did he really think I was into paddle play with a doctor at the hospital? And, responsible for corrupting Lorraine's husband? With the look on his face, he definitely thought so.
Jack was smirking. I could see it from where I stood behind the counter. His lip quirked up, and his chest was moving as if he was trying to squelch a laugh. He knew Mike would be making fun of himself—and the sex party—and Jack wasn't going to let me off easily. Or at all.
“Customer,” I told Homer, trying to explain who Dr. O was.
Homer nodded as he handed me the money. “Right, sure.”
He obviously didn't believe me.
I handed him the movie in a bag. “Have a good one,” I replied as he made his way out of the store. If I ever saw him around town, I had no doubt Homer would switch to the other side of the street to avoid me. Oh, brother.
Homer held open the door for Violet, who came in like a whirling dervish, stomping snow from her feet, cold breeze swirling behind her. Homer stood there frozen in place, staring at Violet. The last expression on his face as the door closed behind him was like he'd seen a ghost, obviously surprised there were actually two of me.
I wanted to stick my tongue out at him and say 'See?', but I held back.
Violet wore a heavy purple jacket, matching hat and gloves, jeans and snow boots. And she looked exactly like me.
“Holy shit,” Lorraine said. She stood up and hobbled over to Violet. Looked her over carefully, her head swiveling between my sister and me. Over and over. To keep the woman's head from unscrewing entirely, I went and stood next to Violet.
“You really are a twin,” Lorraine replied, in awe.
Violet, used to the ogling at being identical, ignored Lorraine. “Hi, Miss Goldie,” Violet said, and then seeing Jack, smiled brightly. “Jack Reid. Been a long time.” She tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and gave him moon eyes.
Jack didn't look too keen on seeing my sister and it showed. She'd been the one to mess things up for him early on, and his life had changed based on her small transgression. Violet quickly picked up on the cold shoulder and dropped the flirting act.
“Violet,” he murmured politely, but definitely without any feeling.
Violet looked at me, her face completely confused. “Where's the package you were telling me about?”
“You,” Lorraine said, jabbing Violet in the shoulder, “You're the one sleeping with my husband.”
Violet's jaw dropped open.
Goldie gasped. This was the first time she'd heard the official accusation. Up to this point, all she knew was that someone looking like me went skiing with her husband, Ronald. Goldie had known Violet and I our whole lives and shenanigans with a married man was the irresponsible, reckless, and moral-free behavior she didn't tolerate. From anyone.
“Violet,” Goldie said, her voice laced with disappointment and anger. She shook her head from side to side in disbelief.
“What?” Violet planted her hands on her hips. “I never slept with anyone's husband! I don't even know who your husband is.” Violet practically yelled at Lorraine. Her fuse was short and she definitely didn't like to be cornered as she was now.
“Ronald,” Lorraine told her. “Name ring a bell?”
Violet visibly deflated like a popped balloon. Oh, shit, had she really slept with a married man?
“Listen, it's not what you think,” she said, her voice much more pleading than a moment ago.
Lorraine hobbled back to the stool and sat down heavily. “Fine. I'm listening.”
“I am, too,” said Goldie. She crossed her arms beneath her ample bosom.
Jack leaned against the glass display case, clearly eager to hear this as well.
19
“I'm...I'm teaching him how to ski,” Violet replied.
We all stood there frozen in place. Of all the possible things Violet could have said, this was not what I'd expected.
In the pregnant pause, a woman approached the counter with a set of blue anal beads. Mid-twenties, bundled up from head to toe. “Hi, I'd like to pay for these.”
“On the house,” Goldie said. She reached across the counter, took the anal beads from the woman, shoved them in a bag and forced them back into the woman's hands. “Have a good day. Come back soon,” she said sweetly as she ushered the woman out the door. I'd never seen her want to get rid of a customer so fast in all the years I'd worked there.
No one else had moved a muscle.
“You're telling me you're teaching Ronald to ski?” Lorraine repeated, once the door closed behind the customer with a cold whoosh of air.
Violet nodded. “He said he wanted it to be a surprise. I just got back from my conference in Salt Lake and there's lots of new snow so the conditions are great. You're going up to Whistler for a work trip next month, aren't you?”
Lorraine rocked her head back as if Violet had spoken in tongues. “Why, yes. It's a conference for the insurance company I work for.”
Violet licked her lips. “As you probably know, Ronald doesn't know how to ski. He thought if he learned, you wouldn't leave him behind in the lodge. He just wanted to spend time together with you.”
Lorraine started to cry. Gasping, body-wracking sobs filled the room. I darted a glance at Jack, who was scratching his ear, clearly uncomfortable with a crying woman. Goldie moved in to pat Lorraine's arm. Violet looked triumphant that she'd been vindicated.
“Ronald...Ronald...did...that...for...me?” Lorraine gasped out between tears.
“Ronald loves you. All he does is talk about you,” Violet added, trying to seal the deal.
“How do you know him in the first place?” I asked. No chance I was letting her off with her quick story.
Violet looked at me. “Through work. He's the principal.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
She nodded.
A principal at the local elementary school. Unless the man was completely stupid, sleeping with a colleague, and cheating on a spouse while doing it, would be a career killer. Not just for him, but for Violet as well. I might doubt the quality of some of Violet's morals, but she wouldn't blow her career for a married co-worker.
Lorraine finally started to calm down, her tears all used up. She looked to me, now appearing mollified and a little contrite. “I did all that to you because your sister was teaching Ronald how to ski?”
I internally rolled my eyes, nodded my head.
“Shit, now I feel terrible.”
“I think it's romantic,” Goldie replied, a hand over her heart. “Say, do you like romance novels? This would make a great story.”
I stared at Goldie, mouth agape. Forget the stalking and everything else that had occurred. The romance novel was more important. She was as insane as Lorraine. Maybe the two of them writing a book together would be a good idea. It would get me out of reading and talking a
bout ripe fruit and wontons.
“I don't blame you for going crazy,” Goldie added, back on track. “I'd go nuts if I thought my husband was having an affair.” She stated the truth, but also tried to make Lorraine feel better.
I pitied the woman who got between Goldie and her husband, Paul. The stunts Lorraine pulled would be nothing in comparison to the revenge Goldie would exact.
“Yeah, but I went overboard.” Lorraine wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jacket, puffs of goose down taking flight. “You tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. But your twin story...you have to admit it was hard to believe.”
Jack came up to stand behind me again, wrapped his arm around my waist. “One of them's enough for me.”
With that, Jack earned an elbow to the gut. He gave an oomph from my efforts.
“I'm sorry if you thought the worst. Ronald knows I'm on the Ski Patrol for Bridger Bowl on the weekends. I was only trying to help out a co-worker,” Violet added.
Lorraine looked down at her lap, then lifted her head, looked me in the eye. “I guess I need to come clean on what I did to your house then.”
Jack's hand tightened about my waist.
“Oh?” I said. I had a feeling this wasn't going to be good.
“The first time I saw Ronald and you...well, you”—she pointed to Violet—“together, I completely lost it.”
That was an understatement of the century.
“I didn't know who you were, but I saw you at the grocery store the next day. But it wasn't you.” Again, she pointed at Violet. “It must've been you.” Now she pointed to me. “I followed you home, watched your house. When I saw you leave, I went inside, had a cigarette as I considered what I wanted to do to you.”
“Oh, boy,” Goldie said, having a good idea of what was to come. I did, too. The way Jack was squeezing my waist, I figured he did as well.
“I was so mad, I dropped the cigarette onto some papers on your counter and it started a fire. I tried to put it out, I really did. That's how I got this.” Lorraine held up her bandaged hand. “I ran out the back door when I realized it was getting out of hand. I called 911, honest, I did.”
