“Totally hot,” one of the blondes said. She sounded like she was speaking through her nose, and I had to fight the urge to offer her a tissue.
Molly must have realized she never introduced me to her friends because she said, “My goodness, where are my manners? Cora, these are my friends; Tiffany, Veronica, and Dana.” Oh, God, they had 80’s popular girl names. Tiffany was a tiny blonde with curly hair and super tan skin, Dana was pretty much a duller, less distinct looking version of her, and Veronica... well, let’s just say I had a hard time seeing anything other than the small children she was storing in her bra. They were so damn big, I could go spelunking between each breast.
“They all agreed to be bid on this Saturday. Isn’t that exciting?”
Yeah, totally. Now, the one wealthy, not creepy man in town can decide between me and torpedo boobs. Hmm, wonder who he’ll choose.
“You guys don’t have boyfriends?” I asked. I know it was for a good cause, but most of the people involved seemed single, and these girls had bombshell written all over them.
“I do,” Tiffany said. “But he’s totally fine with me selling myself for God.”
Priscilla practically choked on a laugh, and Molly just sneered at her. Of course, Tiffany was oblivious to it.
“He didn’t actually say those words, did he?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” Wow, how did I just notice this girl had a southern twang? Wait, what was she doing in Michigan? “My boyfriend, Freddy, said the only way another man can touch me is if God says it’s okay or a meteor hits and I have to repopulate the Earth. Funny enough, he says if that happens, he gets to touch someone else, too.” She furiously began to giggle. “I’m so blessed.”
“Um, sure,” I stuttered.
“Are you being sold off?”
“That’s the plan,” I responded uncomfortably. I wasn’t crazy about her choice of words. They made me feel all dirty inside.
“That reminds me,” Molly said with a quick hand clap, “could you possibly take some photos at the fundraiser? I thought it’d be a neat idea if, after everyone was paired off, we could take some pictures of the couples. A little memorabilia.”
“That would be sensational!” Dana exclaimed, and then looked nervous that her voice had gone so high.
“I could do that,” I responded to Molly.
“Are you a photographer?” Tiffany asked.
“Yes, well, no, but yes. How about this? I like to take pictures.”
“Freddy likes to take pictures, too. He’s so talented,” Tiffany swooned.
“I’m pretty good in front of a camera,” big boobed Veronica said, sashaying toward me with her life threatening torpedoes. “I did a little modeling back in the day. Maybe you could help me with some headshots.”
“That’s kind of out of my depth. I’m mostly a landscape kind of girl.”
“I’d be lying in front of a landscape.”
I coughed out a laugh and said, “Yeah...” I was feeling a little overwhelmed. All this blonde, puffy hair closing in on me, made me feel smaller than my already tiny self. Veronica’s breasts from hell being shoved in my face didn’t help matters, either. I’m pretty sure they could execute a man quietly. “Would you look at the time? I need to head home and give my grandma a shot. Priscilla?”
“About damn time,” she groaned and retrieved my bagged dress.
“I’ll see you girls later,” I said, and, of course, did a ridiculous wave as I headed out through the glass doors with Priscilla by my side.
“I actually feel dumber,” Priscilla said under her breath as we headed to my car. “Do you think Molly drew the short stick and had to be the brunette of the group?”
“Do you think Tiffany drew the short stick that made her the southern one of the group?”
“Yeah, what’s with that? I don’t recall that part in the state.”
“Must have moved here from Georgia or something. Poor girl, thinking Michigan is a smart choice.” I’m sure Priscilla thought I just meant the dangerous, violent cities. If only she realized just how dangerous this town was, and it had nothing to do with gangs.
I started up the engine, but before I pulled out of the driveway, I asked, “You sure you didn’t want to go back in and buy a dress?”
“And run into those morons again? I may catch the blonde.”
I chortled. “What a fun drinking group they must be.”
Very seriously Priscilla said, “That woman’s breasts are the size of watermelons.”
“Yeah, and she didn’t even need a low neckline.”
“Oh, shut up.”
***
As soon as I dropped Priscilla off to her home, which was this tiny brown house with flowers in the front (surprised me to think she planted them), I headed back home with one goal in mind; read that damn blue moon entry.
I burst through the front door of my house, threw my purse on the couch to my immediate right, and was ready to divulge into some folklore. Only problem was, there was a roadblock—a very human roadblock, in the form of Owen standing in my living room with Grandma by his side.
“Look who came over, dear,” Grandma said and brushed her hand up and down Owen’s arm, petting him like he were a house cat.
“Sorry to drop by like this,” Owen apologized. “I wanted to come by and see how you were doing. You were so out of it, the last time we talked.”
I scrambled for a vague answer that would comply with the two different stories I gave Owen and my grandma about my sour mood. “I’m fine now,” was the best I could come up with. “I was in a weird funk, but it’s passed. A little dress shopping with Priscilla perked me up.”
“You went dress shopping? That’s funny, so did Molly.”
“I actually ran into her.”
“So, she asked you about being the photographer?”
“Yeah, I told her it was no problem. I’m going to be there, anyway, so what the hay.”
“That’s what I told her. I figured you’d do it. It’s not a problem, though, right? I know you’re not the type to say no to someone, and Molly can be pretty persistent.”
“Really, I genuinely don’t mind.”
“Good to hear.”
“I invited him to dinner, dear,” Grandma interrupted.
Owen looked almost embarrassed and said, “I don’t have to.”
The unread chapter in my library book was practically beckoning me from the couch.
“It’s not a problem as long as you’re not expecting anything fancy,” I said with a smile, trying to ignore the yearning I had to sit in all night reading.
Owen lit up. “Molly usually cooks whatever is in a can, so it’s got to be an upgrade.”
I really didn’t mind Owen coming over for dinner, in fact, I had invited him to come over before, but I’m not going to lie and say not being able to read from that book didn’t bother me. It sat there in my purse on the couch like an unopened Christmas present, and I was the anxious kid in my PJ’s, waiting for my parents to get up, so I could rip apart the wrapping paper to get inside.
“You can sit down while I get something prepared,” I told Owen.
Grandma was all too eager to take Owen by the arm and guide him to the living room like a smitten teenager. It was cute how obvious my grandma’s liking for Owen was, even when they had very little interaction. I know before I showed up, he had done a few errands here and there for her, so that’s probably where her admiration came from. I’m not sure I ever thanked him for doing all that. He certainly didn’t need to, but that was the kind of guy Owen was.
While Grandma was busy entertaining Owen with her movie collection, I raided the refrigerator for some kind of dinner plans. I really had no clue what to make and was terrible at feeding several guests. One of the perks of living on your own is, you can eat whatever random breakfast meal as dinner and no one can complain. Eventually, I found some veggie burgers crammed in the back of the freezer and decided to grill them up. I lied to Grandma and said they
were made with real meat, but she didn’t notice.
Once we were all settled at the dinner table, Grandma practically emptied the salt shaker onto her stack of fries as Owen and I watched. “Uh, Grandma, you might want to take it easy there,” I said.
She continued slapping the bottom of the salt shaker to get more to come out. “I ain’t dead, yet. I’ll have a little salt with my fries.”
“More like a little fry with your salt.”
Owen placed his hand on Grandma’s wrist and said, “We just want you to be healthy so you live as long as possible.”
Grandma grinned from ear to ear and then set down the shaker. “You have a point, sweetie.”
“Why didn’t I have a point?” I playfully pouted.
“You don’t have blue eyes like him.”
“Hey, I have blue eyes.”
“Have you seen his, though, dear? Like blue crystals.” I couldn’t really blame Grandma for getting lost in Owen’s eyes. They were a pretty magnificent pair. They almost didn’t even look real, like you could stare and stare and still find something new to love inside them. Like Grandma said; crystals.
“You’re gonna make me blush,” Owen said coyly.
“Please do. I love bashful boys,” Grandma replied and then pinched his cheek.
“Gee, should I leave you two alone?” I teased.
“We’ll write from the honeymoon. Make sure to invite Melanie.”
“Amazing you still remember her, yet I practically have to show you my ID every time I walk through the door.”
“Melanie has crystal eyes as well.”
“Your favoritism is showing, Grandma.”
“Well, I think Cora has very pretty eyes,” Owen said nicely.
“Thank you, Owen. See? Someone can appreciate an understated pair.”
“I don’t really see the big deal with mine, anyway. I’m so used to them, so they’re just eyeballs to me. The only thing I like about them is, I got them from my mom. She had the best set you ever...” He suddenly stopped and stared down at his plate like he was reading a book, but really, he was holding back from showing an emotion that was bubbling under the surface, threatening to come out. Weird how quickly sadness can take you over when you have one happy thought of someone you lost. Quite quickly, Owen lifted his head up proudly like he had fought off a tear and said, “Her eyes were beautiful.”
“Sounds like it,” I responded sadly. I don’t know why men think they should never cry. Don’t they know we only love them more when they do?
“Your mother was a lovely lady, sweetie,” Grandma said with a hand placed firmly on top of Owen’s.
“Thanks,” he said sorrowfully.
“You knew Owen’s parents?” I asked.
“In passing. They were good people.”
“Had to be, to have raised someone like Owen.”
Owen looked appreciative of my words, but very sad.
Boy, did the conversation go down a dreary road and fast. None of us wanted to talk anymore because none of us knew what to say. I imagine it was pretty awkward for Owen, since it looked like showing his vulnerability was about the last thing he wanted in the world right now, and all this weird silence made it harder to conceal it.
Owen pushed his plate forward and very humbly said, “I’m not hungry anymore.”
“It’s these darn veggie burgers, isn’t it?” Grandma groaned.
My mouth hung open. “What? They’re not veggie burgers.”
“Dear, you really think I couldn’t tell? It’s missing a special ingredient.”
“What’s that?”
“The ability to moo.”
My lips tightened into a mean pout. “You know I don’t like those jokes, Grandma.”
“I know, dear,” she said with an evil cackle. “I know.”
I decided to ignore her mean-spirited joke. “How about some dessert? I’m sure we have some cake mix around here.”
“That’s all right,” Owen replied politely. “I’m just going to use the restroom, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s down that hallway,” I said and steered him in the right direction. He excused himself from the table and left quietly.
Grandma also excused herself from the table and threw her burger down the garbage disposal; a total waste, which I promptly scolded her for. “See what happens when you lie about dinner?” she said. “People get emotional.”
“I don’t think Owen’s parents dying had anything to do with you eating veggie burgers. Besides, I totally didn’t lie about it. I said we were having burgers.”
“I like mine bleeding.”
“That’s disgusting. I’m not even going to go into all the ways that’s horrible for you. The fact that you’re digesting the blood of a dead cow should be enough to gross you out.”
“He wasn’t dead when he was bleeding.”
“Oh, God, Grandma, seriously I’m going to puke.”
“You’re the one that loves the animals so much.”
“Yeah, in their natural state. You know, out in the wild, running around, making babies and drinking water. The circle of life, hakuna matata, yadda yadda yadda.”
“You vegans.”
“It’s not a disease, I promise, you won’t catch it. Anyway, I’m not a full on vegan, yet. Maybe someday.”
“Lord help us.”
“Grandma...” I finished the last bite of my burger and took the crumb covered plate to the sink and rinsed it off. “Do you think Owen is all right? He seemed pretty shaken. He hasn’t really talked about his parents too much, so I don’t know what to say to him. I’m always afraid of saying the wrong thing.”
“The only wrong thing to say is nothing at all.”
“In my case, you know that’s not necessarily true. I didn’t inherit your smooth talking,” I joked.
“When your grandpa died, everybody brought me a pie. Cheered me up, gave me something to eat. Maybe you should take up pie making.”
“His parents died in a fire, not of old age. No pie is going to help.” I wiped my plate off with a blue dish towel. “Maybe I should talk to him.”
“Whatever feels right, dear.”
I put my plate down and headed into the living room to wait for Owen, but Owen was already there. He was standing in front of a bookshelf that had several family photos set about. Owen looked contemplative and sad, and immediately, I joined him at his side.
“These your parents?” he asked.
“My dad,” I answered and pointed to a picture of twelve-year-old-braces me and my father in front of a white horse. “The horse is Dash. Dad took me to learn how to ride and told me to pick one out, so when I found one that rhymed with my last name I claimed it. I thought it was funny to call us Nash and Dash like we were in a buddy cop movie. I was such a loser,” I said with a chortle.
“No, it’s funny,” he said, but didn’t show signs of laughing. I couldn’t tell if he was humoring me or feeling too bummed to even crack a smile. Mopey Owen was kind of breaking my heart. “This your mom?” he asked and pointed at another picture.
“No, my aunt.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“You won’t see a lot of pictures of my mom around here.”
“Why not?”
“Her and my grandma don’t get along all that well these days. Mom tried to have her put into a home because of Grandma’s bad memory. Said she had dementia and Alzheimer’s and all that. My dad said let her be.”
“Doesn’t she have Alzheimer’s?” he asked seriously.
“Not as of now, I don’t think. It may go there someday, but for now, she’s mostly in control of all her faculties. That’s why I’m going to enjoy her while I can.”
The words must have resonated with him, because his voice broke when he said, “Yeah...” in agreement. He wandered away from me like a lost puppy and all I wanted to do was reach out and give him a big hug.
“You okay?” I asked him in the tiniest voice possible.
“I’ll b
e all right,” he responded in a very dismissive way, his eyes trailing every picture on the wall like they were the most fascinating things he had ever seen. I knew he was just trying to avoid eye contact.
“You just seemed...bummed.”
“It’s not the easiest thing to talk about my parents. I try to put it in the back of mind as much as I can, but sometimes it creeps out.”
“You should let it. If I were gone, I’d like to think someone was thinking about me.”
“Never thought of it that way.”
Grandma came brushing by us with a flirtatious grin on her face and stopped before she went down the hallway to her bedroom. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” she asked Owen.
“Oh, I’m fine,” he said. I could tell he was getting embarrassed that we were paying so much attention to his emotional state.
“I hope you don’t find me rude, but I really must be heading off to bed. I’m a bit pooped.”
“No, you’re more than welcome to go to sleep. I’m just happy to have been invited.”
“Goodnight, sweetie.”
Funny how an attractive man enters our house and Grandma turns into this polite, almost bashful southern belle, yet has no issue telling me she wants a bleeding, mooing cow between her slices of bread when we’re alone.
Once she was gone, Owen said to me, “Your grandma is nice.”
“Only because she thinks you’re hot.”
He snorted. “She is a feisty one.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Thanks again for having me over for dinner. I know it wasn’t your idea or anything, but you could have kicked me out on my ass.”
“Nonsense. You know I’ve tried to get you to come over several times. Which is why I was a little surprised when I saw you here.”
“I couldn’t say no to your grandma, that and Molly is sort of out for the night with her friends, so...”
“You don’t like being alone, do you?”
“Is that obvious?” he asked and busted out a breathy chuckle. “It’s just... ever since our parents died, it’s been only the two of us. Whenever one of us is gone, I’m always thinking the worst, thinking this will be the night a freak accident occurs and I lose her. Then I’ll be...”
Lunar Rampage (Lunar Rampage Series Book 1) Page 19
