“I didn’t quit,” Marty said.
“Hell, yes, you damn sure did. You just didn’t know it. They ain’t keepin’ you without Cathy. Violet can have the club. Hell, she could get down on her knees and beg me, and I wouldn’t be in it. I don’t need that shit in my life. I got my hands full keepin’ all y’all out of mischief.”
Marty gasped. “You wouldn’t join the club if they asked you?”
“Hell no! Never would have. I just wanted to be voted in so I could tear the hell out of her stupid club to pay her back for trying to talk Bert into leaving me high and dry at the altar. Today couldn’t have been any more perfect. Now I’m going home and eatin’ that piece of chocolate cake I talked Jack into letting me bring away from his place,” Agnes said.
“How’d you know about that?” Marty asked.
“Bert told me. We didn’t keep secrets,” Agnes said on her way out.
Marty waited until she heard the back door slam and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Jack. You call Cathy. This is too damn good to wait until morning.”
Trixie giggled as she dialed the phone.
Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society—who gives a shit?
Friendship—always and forever priceless.
Carolyn Brown brings you
A Heap of Texas Trouble
(Previously published as
The Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off)
Coming soon from Sourcebooks Casablanca
Turn the page for a special glimpse...
Chapter 7
Gigi talked and Hank sipped his scotch with his long legs propped up on a hassock in front of his favorite chair and didn’t interrupt one time as she talked and talked and talked.
“Well?” she asked after a full minute had elapsed at the end of her speech.
Had he not heard a word she said? She’d worried all day about how to approach him with the idea and he hadn’t butted in one single time. It damn sure wasn’t the time for him to daydream about oil wells and cows.
“Sounds like your mind is made up,” he said.
“Lenny has to pay,” she answered.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just shoot him?”
“Then he’d be dead. This way he’ll have to live with the fact that he’s a loser,” Gigi said.
“That’s asking a lot for a little revenge.”
“It’s not for me or even for Sugar. I can’t say it’s even for the broken candlesticks, although I figure my mama is sending some karma out from the grave and Lenny is in deep shit. Don’t tell Tansy I said that or she’ll be saying that Mama was a psychic, too. This is for Carlene. Kitty came to the shop today and called her fat,” Gigi said.
Hank jumped up so fast that he was a blur. “Kitty Lovelle said what?”
“She said that she never understood why her precious son married a fat woman,” Gigi said.
She’d fussed and fumed around with arguments about why she’d be gone so much in the evenings for the next few weeks and all it took was one sentence and one three-letter word—F-A-T—to do the trick. Carlene had always been built just like Hank’s grandma, whom he adored. Tall, big boned, never skinny even in high school—but she’d been the president of her class all four years of high school, on the debate team, played basketball and volleyball, and as her senior picture above the mantel portrayed, had been a beautiful woman. He didn’t see Carlene as anything other than his gorgeous daughter.
“You can go to Mexico and learn to make the hottest damn chili in the world. I’ll pay for the cooking lessons myself. That woman and her son have to be taught a lesson,” Hank said.
Shit! Why hadn’t she thought of going to Mexico? She and her sisters hadn’t been on an all girls’ vacation in two years and they were due one. But they couldn’t give Lenny the satisfaction of having professional chili makers teaching them how to cook. No, sir, they had to win fair and square. And he couldn’t have even one excuse when it was all said and done.
“Lenny would say that we didn’t invent the recipe ourselves if we did that. That’s why we aren’t going to ask our husbands to help us out with recipes. We want to do this on our very own,” Gigi said.
Hank grinned. “And I’ll pay for a double-page spread in the center of every newspaper in Grayson County to show off your trophies when you do. Hell, I hope he comes in fourth. That way he won’t even get a ribbon.”
She crossed the room and looped her arms around Hank’s neck. “When it’s over, I will plan a whole week at the beach just for us.”
Hank tipped back her chin and kissed her solidly with hunger and promise. “I’ll do the plannin’ and I’m thinkin’ an Alaskan cruise would be nice.”
“With lots of seafood, no relatives, and no chili.”
He swept her up in his arms and started up the stairs with her snuggled down close to his chest. “You got it, darlin’.”
* * *
Tansy handed Alex a beer when he walked through the door. He took one look at the suitcases sitting beside the door and rolled his eyes.
“It’s true then? Y’all have entered the contest?” he asked.
“Patrice called, didn’t she?” She answered his question with one of her own.
He nodded. “She’s not looking forward to the arrangements either. Hank and I were all smug feeling sorry for Jamie because Sugar moved out until he does proper repentance. But we didn’t even kiss Kitty Lovelle and our wives are moving out.”
“You damn sure better not kiss that hussy. It would be the last lips you kiss if you ever do and we’re not moving out. I’ll just be in and out of the house. If we are working on the chili late at night, we’ll stay at the shop. If not, I’ll be home, and nothing says you and Hank can’t stop by and have a drink with us in the evenings,” Tansy said.
“You really think you can beat Lenny at the cook-off? Wouldn’t it be easier to take him down another way? Like burn down his business or get him fired? Hell, I’ll buy the car dealership and fire his sorry ass, myself,” Alex said.
Tansy kissed him on the cheek and pushed him backward until he was forced to sit on the sofa. She straddled his lap and cupped his cheeks in her hands. “I love you, and I’ll be home part of the time and I’ll never leave you again once this cook-off is over. If I can live with my sisters above a lingerie shop and learn to make world-famous chili, you can live with me just popping in and out for a few weeks. And remember that’s just one suitcase over there. If I was planning on spending all my nights at the shop, there would be a dozen. Dinner is being served in the bedroom tonight. Your bath is already run and I’m wearing absolutely nothing under this kimono.”
Alex grinned. “I knew I married the right Fannin sister!”
* * *
How in the devil did Uncle Jamie sleep with Aunt Sugar? Evidently he used earplugs or he’d wander around in a daze from lack of sleep all the time. Carlene finally turned on the bedside lamp and sat up in bed. It sounded like a chain saw fighting its way through a truckload of hogs across the hall. She should have moved in with Patrice that night like Alma Grace had done, and she would be sleeping soundly.
She eased out of bed and made her way downstairs to the kitchen where she downed two shots of scotch. She eyed the bottle as she started out of the room but decided against drinking enough to pass completely out. She had to work the next day and there were appointments on the books for three weddings. Maybe they should attend bridal fairs and promote a bridal line of lingerie for the bachelorette parties as well as weddings.
She’d been working on a fancy white lace corset that afternoon so she flipped on the light in the beading room. Brides, in their rose-colored glasses, were downright stupid. She’d been one and she’d had the perfect wedding five years before. Now look where she was. She’d trusted Lenny with her heart and he’d broken it every bit as badly as he had Granny’s candleholders.
Tears streamed down her face as she sat down in a gold velvet vintage rocker pushed back in the corner. She pulled the quilt from off the back and wrapped i
t around her body. Was the fact that she was a plus-size girl what drove Lenny away? He’d seen her naked before they married, so if he didn’t like curves, then why did he propose? If he wanted a tiny-size trophy wife, why did he marry a woman who bought her clothing from the plus-size store?
Using the back of her hand to wipe the tears, it came to her in a flash that she’d been his security blanket. He couldn’t leave his poor dumpy wife because she’d kill herself without him, but he would if he could. And they felt sorry for him right into those big round beds on the trips that didn’t have a damn thing to do with the car dealership. No wonder he doesn’t have a pot to piss in and he’s spent all my money along with his! He’s probably had dozens and dozens of women. And he told them all he’d leave his fat wife if he could.
She set the rocker in motion and then realized that she couldn’t hear the snoring anymore. The tears disappeared and she was smiling when she fell fast asleep.
* * *
On Saturday morning, when a cattle trailer brought a load of Gigi’s furniture, the crackle of gossip flying through the air was almost audible. Every woman in Cadillac and the surrounding areas suddenly needed a new bra or pair of under-britches. By the time the trucks unloaded Gigi’s bedroom furniture and suitcases, both sides of the street were lined with cars and trucks of every description. If Tansy hadn’t pulled right in behind the last truck, she’d have had to park three blocks away and pull her suitcase up the street.
“Where’s the paparazzi? I should at least get to shield my face when I sneak in the door with my suitcase,” Tansy fussed when she opened the car door.
Yancy quickly rounded the front of the car and held the door for her. “I brought Patrice some chocolate cupcakes. I understand you are moving in today. If you’ll pop that trunk lid, I’ll be glad to carry your things upstairs for you.”
Tansy flashed a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Yancy. I’ve just got one suitcase but I’ll sure be glad for you to carry it for me. Is it as crazy in there as it looks from out here?”
“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t even get to talk to Patrice. The store is jammed full of women and more are in the foyer eatin’ cookies and drinkin’ sweet tea. I’m not so sure that feedin’ them is a good idea. You feed a stray dog and it’ll just keep coming back for more.” Yancy carried the heavy suitcase without huffing and puffing one bit. “If you’ll shut the trunk and open the door for me, I’d sure appreciate it.”
She followed behind him, admiring the way he filled out those tight-fitting jeans. Her daughter had a keeper there if she’d just wake up and realize it. “This is the only day they’ll get fed, trust me. Patrice will see that two dozen cookies won’t last five minutes and all the profit will go across the street to Clawdy’s. She’s a better business woman than that.”
Someone swung the door open before she could touch it and Yancy proceeded up the stairs without a hitch. Tansy, on the other hand, was bombarded with questions.
“Is it true that the Fannin girls are entering the chili cook-off and you’ve left your husbands? Women don’t do that,” one lady said.
Agnes Flynn, who lived two doors down from the shop, looped her arm in Tansy’s. Agnes was well past eighty and great-aunt to Cathy and Marty Andrews, who ran Miss Clawdy’s Café. She was the most outspoken woman in Cadillac and nobody messed with her.
She pulled Tansy up on the first stair and said in a loud voice. “Granny Fannin would be so proud of you girls for what y’all are doin’. This is as big as marchin’ on the White House for women’s rights. All us women are proud as hell of y’all. I’m here to tell you that if y’all needed someone for your team, I’d gladly throw my lot in with you but since you got enough, I’m pledgin’ a thousand dollars to the cause for y’all to buy the tent.” She whipped a brown paper bag out of her purse and shook it open. “My check goes into this bag. It’ll be sittin’ over there on the credenza beside them cookies. Donations are welcome but don’t be tryin’ to tell the Fannin girls how to make chili. Their mama was a fine cook and they’ll be makin’ the winnin’ potful at the cook-off. Oh, and I’ve got five dollars to bet that they win. Anyone wants to bet, Patrice will be our bookie.”
“Bettin’ is against the law and it’s immoral,” Violet Prescott said from the doorway into the store.
The noise went from raising the roof to dead silence in less than a second. Tansy whipped around to see what Agnes would say or, worse yet, what she’d do. She and Violet had been arch enemies for years. The previous year at the Fourth of July festival they’d gotten into a fistfight and wound up in jail.
Agnes ignored Violet and went on. “Like I said, Patrice is our investment banker. I’m buying stock in the Red-Hot Bloomers Team. When they win, my stock will pay off damn good. I’m figuring that Violet will buy stock in Lenny’s team since his mama is her friend. Now remember, there are about eighteen more teams on the roster so you can bet on any one you want. Y’all see Patrice between now and the day before the cook-off if you want to buy stock in any team you think might win the cook-off this year. I’m throwing a party at Clawdy’s on Mother’s Day afternoon to celebrate the big win from the team I’m bettin’ on. Anyone who joins the Red-Hot Bloomers Team has an invitation.”
At first there were a few whispers and then slowly the noise level rose. Agnes winked at Tansy and said, “That ought to keep them busy for a few days. Lord, I love it when there’s excitement in Cadillac.”
“Have you talked to Patrice about this?” Tansy asked.
“Hell, no! But she’ll take care of it because we all want to whip Lenny’s cheatin’ ass. Never did like that boy or his mama. If I have to sabotage his chili by putting a dead rat in it, fur, tail, asshole, ears, and all, he will not beat Carlene.” Agnes slapped her fist into the palm of her other hand with every word.
“Oh, no!” Tansy declared. “We’ve got to win fair and square, with no doubts.”
Agnes patted her on the arm. “Then I’d say y’all better put on your aprons and get to work. I’ll do my part in keeping Kitty away from your husbands while you are over here.”
“How can you do that?”
Agnes flashed a grin that bordered on crazy. “Honey, I’d tell you but then we’d both wind up in prison.”
“Dear God!” Tansy exclaimed.
As she headed up the stairs to unpack her suitcases, Tansy made up her mind that if Cadillac was still standing after the cook-off, she was going to a party at Clawdy’s and she would buy more than five dollars’ worth of stock in the Red-Hot Bloomers Team. If she had to make chili every night for six weeks, then she would at least make a few dollars with her stock. Kitty would put money on Lenny and it would be so sweet to take it from them. Things were looking up for sure.
* * *
The store looked worse than a Chicago dump ground when the doors finally closed at five o’clock that afternoon. Carlene melted into a chair beside one of the messy dressing rooms and threw the back of her hand over her forehead in a dramatic gesture.
“My God, what a day,” she said.
Alma Grace sat down in the middle of the floor. Her face was a picture of bewilderment as she looked up at Carlene. “Please tell me it’s over. Do we have a bra left in the stockroom?”
Patrice joined Alma Grace on the floor and leaned against a dressing room doorjamb. “There are bras left but there’s not a cookie out there or a drop of sweet tea. Our mothers escaped off to look in the attic for Grandpa’s chili recipes. If it’s in the Fannin family, they say it’s not cheating. I need a drink, a cupcake, and sex, in that order.”
“There’s whiskey in the kitchen but Alma Grace already moved in and I’m packed and ready to move tonight. Your privacy is gone. Where are those cupcakes that Yancy brought?” Carlene asked.
“They’re in the bottom drawer of my file cabinet. I swept them away in a hurry. And honey, Yancy has a house, too. I’ll have my drink now and then I’m going to his house. If y’all are still awake when I come home later tonight we’ll have cu
pcakes as a reward for surviving this day,” Patrice said.
Alma Grace whined as she removed her high heels and rubbed her feet. “Do you think the worst of it might be over? If not, we’d best hire some help, ladies.”
Carlene’s giggle was giddy. “The cash register is bulging and poor old Josie was dragging when she left. I’m glad tomorrow is Sunday.”
Alma Grace stretched out on the floor, not even caring that her spandex skirt rode up to the bottom of her panties. “My feet and my back hurt and I’ve side-stepped so many damn questions about you and Lenny that I am dizzy.”
Patrice kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes down into the carpet. “You said a cuss word. You been prayin’ and cussin’ more than usual. I wonder if that’s a sign that if you should stop prayin’ those naughty words will stop comin’ out of your mouth.”
Alma Grace slapped a hand over her mouth. “I did, didn’t I?” She looked up toward the ceiling and fluttered her eyelashes. “Forgive me, Lord, for saying an ugly word. Put it in Carlene’s heavenly book, not mine. She’s the one who got all this started. Amen. And for your information, I will not stop prayin’ for Carlene, Patrice.”
Carlene looked up at the ceiling. “Go ahead, God. Slap it on my page. It’s already messy and Alma Grace’s whole book is spotless clean. But don’t put your pencil up because you are going to need it since she’s flirting with Jack Landry and he’s pure old sin on a stick.”
“I am not and he is not!” Alma Grace said quickly.
What Happens in Texas Page 30
