Not So New in Town

by Michele Summers

  Wanda adjusted her sleeveless orange wrap dress that encased her voluptuous curves. Retying the bow at her waist, she gave Lucy a skeptical look. “Costco? If you’ve stooped that low, it’s no wonder Anthony Tiger preferred Shannon…she probably had better underwear.”

  Lucy chuckled, ignoring the twinge of pain. “I didn’t say I buy my unmentionables at Costco.”

  “Praise the Lord.” Wanda pushed down on the sleeve of Lucy’s white eyelet top, exposing her bra strap and half her cup.

  “What the—!”

  “I’m checking out the goods. Nice. Like the color. Where did you get it?” she asked, referring to Lucy’s pale-blue lacy bra. “Makes your boobs look real perky.” She pushed the sleeve back up and patted Lucy’s shoulder.

  “That’s because they are perky.”

  “No, they’re large, but a good bra can do wonders.”

  “You should know…Miss Double-D Diva.”

  Wanda cupped her own huge breasts and lifted. “They are mighty fine, aren’t they?”

  “Russell always thought so.”

  Russell Upton had been Wanda’s boyfriend since freshman year in college. They’d dated on and off for years, finally tying the knot in a small chapel in Vegas. Wanda wore a short lime-green chiffon cocktail dress with matching veiled pillbox hat, and Fiona wore a lime-green tulle tutu with a sparkly tiara and matching collar. Lucy had flown out to witness the marriage and partied the remainder of the night with Wanda and Fiona by the pool at the Hooters Casino Hotel, while Russell lost all his honeymoon money at the blackjack table. Things kind of went downhill from there. They remained married for about two years before Wanda threw Russell out and dumped his toolbox in the middle of the lake.

  “Do not speak that fork-tongued man’s name in my presence. I could die happy never laying eyes on him again.”

  “What are you talking about? I thought you were back together.” Lucy stopped at the intersection of Gardenia Avenue and Walnut Street, heading toward the outskirts of town. “You said you went out last night.”

  “We are most definitely not back together. You know he had the nerve to ask if we could skip dinner to get to the good stuff. He had to be on a job site early this morning.”

  Russell owned Upton’s Construction: No Job 2 Small. “Well, he does work hard. Give the guy credit. What did you do? Push him out the door?”

  “No. We had sex, and then I pushed him out the door.”

  “That’s what I thought. Good girl. You sure taught him a lesson.” The irony was not lost on Wanda.

  “I, unlike some people I know, don’t let a little pride get in the way of great sex. And Lord, that man is good in bed,” she said in a dreamy voice as if picturing the twenty-one ways they’d gotten it on the night before.

  “Spare me the particulars. Unless you tried a new position that I can add to my fantasy life.”

  “Hmmm, fantasy life. Now that’s interesting. Because from what I hear, Brogan ‘Fantasy’ Reese is no longer only living in your head. Seems he’s been sniffing around you like Old Man Cornwaddle’s hound dog. Speaking of buff burritos, where is the hot chimichanga tonight?” she added in a bad Spanish accent.

  Sniffing around? Craptastic. “I’ve only been home a day and a half! Where’d you hear that?”

  “And just where do you think home is?” Wanda nudged Lucy with her elbow. “Harmony, the gossip capital of the world. Miss Sue Percy said she saw you with him early this morning on the school track. And Jo Ellen Huggins tweeted that you guys were practically doing it over a barrel at the Hog Wild. And—”

  Lucy slammed on the brakes, and an indignant Fiona squealed from being jostled. “What? That’s a bald-faced lie. We weren’t doing anything except picking up barbecue.” Lucy hated being the topic of gossip. She wasn’t loco, and she wasn’t after Brogan Reese.

  Wanda bent to adjust the big bow on her gold platform sandal. “Too bad. If I didn’t have Russell and his love muscle, I’d be all over Brogan ‘Eat My Grits’ Reese in a heartbeat.”

  “Oh brother. I could do without the visuals. Look, Wanda Wonderbust, there’s nothing going on between me and Brogan. Have you forgotten that he and Julia have a history? History that keeps repeating itself, if Julia gets her way. And you know”—Lucy arched her eyebrow as she eased off the brake—“Julia always gets her way.”

  “Maybe. Hard as Julia tries with her successful business and fancy designer duds, she can’t completely shed her trailer-park background. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, my friend.”

  Lucy shot an outraged glare at her best friend. “Wanda, have you been swinging from power lines again? What the hoot are you talking about?”

  “Are you forgetting Babs…your evil stepmother?”

  If only. “She’s kind of hard to forget.”

  “Well, Babs isn’t the only Brooks woman who sleeps around. Julia may not flaunt her conquests and chase after NASCAR drivers like her mama, but it’s no secret Julia shares Babs’s proclivity.”

  Lucy blinked. “Proclivity…you back to reading your thesaurus?”

  Wanda examined her shiny, painted orange nails. “Everyone knows Julia didn’t get pregnant by some sperm bank. Quite a few boots have been found beneath her bed.”

  “Are you implying Julia’s the harlot of Harmony?”

  “I’m saying Julia gets plenty of action. She’s had more boyfriends than you and I have pairs of shoes. Not all of them are from Harmony.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “Around here, she acts all snooty, like getting booty is beneath her.”

  Julia did have clients in the neighboring cities. Lucy only hoped she practiced discretion for Parker’s sake. How could Julia justify all the secrecy? Was she trying to protect Parker? Lucy kept her eyes on the pickup truck in front of her, thinking how her nephew was no dummy.

  “Sooo, do you know who the fathers are?” Curiosity and cattiness were a deadly combination, but Lucy couldn’t help herself.

  “Besides Brogan? Not exactly.”

  Lucy eased off the service road and parked in front of the Rolling Pin. It was one of the few places that didn’t mind pigs as customers.

  “Last night, Brogan told Parker he’d take a paternity test to prove he wasn’t his dad, so I’m thinking he’s not. And I have no clue about the baby Julia’s carrying now. She’s been very tight-lipped.”

  “I bet Amanda and Marcia know. Get a few drinks in them, and they’ll spill the dirt like an overloaded dump truck.” Wanda slid the back door open and reached for Fiona. “I guarantee Julia’s dirty little secret won’t stay a secret forever. It will come out eventually.”

  “I’m surprised it hasn’t already.” Lucy’s silver wedge sandals hit the packed, dried red clay. She stopped to adjust her short, ruffled blue skirt, which had twisted around her waist. Bluesy country music reached her ear from the small band that played on the far side of the open-air barn. Wanda cooed to Fiona in her baby-pig voice as they both headed for the restaurant entrance. Lucy had no business judging Julia. She only hoped Julia knew what she was doing, for Parker’s sake…and the new baby’s.

  Lucy made sure the ringer to her cell was turned to high. She had left Parker at home after ordering dinner again from the Dog. She’d served Julia her spinach salad minus the boiled egg with added crumbled bacon, and snuck a double cheeseburger, fries, and large chocolate brownie to Parker, making him swear on his autographed Dan Marino football that he’d stay put tonight and get to bed no later than ten thirty. Lucy had to go on faith that his grunted response meant yes.

  A guy wearing a checkered apron over black cargo pants, light-blue Crocs, and backward John Deere cap grabbed two menus and said, “Right this way, ladies. Your party is already here.”

  “Huh? What’s he’s talking about?” Lucy said, trying to stop Wanda, who followed him around the old wood tables. “We don’t have a party.”

 
“Perfect. I see a cool pitcher of margaritas waiting.”

  Wanda quickened her pace, and Lucy almost tripped over Fiona. “Doodlebugs. Move it, you fat pig.” Fiona snorted, and Lucy could’ve sworn she’d butted into her leg on purpose. Not that she blamed her. No one liked being called a fat pig…even a pig. When Lucy untangled her feet, she looked up into a pair of twinkling green eyes. Green used to be her favorite eye color, but not anymore. From this moment forward, she was scratching green off her list with a big, fat Sharpie marker. Along with crooked smiles and buffed biceps. Who needed them? She had more important things to daydream about, like the color of her next pedicure or the new season of The Bachelor, or when Hostess Twinkies would make a comeback. Not soft, wavy hair that made her fingers itch or strong, large hands that caused her skin to prickle.

  Brogan pulled the wooden chair out next to him and reached for her elbow. She tensed at his touch, and he stilled. Their eyes met, and he waited. She felt his visual caress travel her body, even though his gaze never left her face. She didn’t understand this game he was playing, but it was time she found out. Relaxing her strained shoulders, she moved toward her seat.

  “Hey, Little Lucy. Glad you could join us.” The warm caramel of his voice filled in her empty places, making her feel special. And that scared Lucy most of all.

  Chapter 12

  With hesitation and one sharp look, Lucy broadcasted her accusations at him: yup, he was toe jam. He sensed the moment the warring inside her head ceased, and she caved. He exhaled, unaware his breath had been trapped. But he instinctively knew, like he knew his granola would become a hit or the New York Giants would beat the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLVI, that Lucy had appeared in his life for a reason. And that reason was to help him with BetterBites.

  “Lucy, Wanda, this is my great friend and business partner, Javier Coloma.” Javier stood to pull out Wanda’s chair, when his face froze in shock.

  “Mmm, Javier.” Wanda rolled her Rs along with her hips, giving Javie her perfected sultry look. “So nice to meet you.”

  “And this is Fiona. Wanda’s pet pig.” Brogan pointed to Fiona already curled on her blanket next to Wanda’s chair, and the reason for the disbelieving look on Javier’s face.

  “You have a pet p-pig?” Everyone stared at all 130 pounds of Fiona and her sparkly, girly collar.

  “Pigs make wonderful pets…until it’s time for butchering, and then…not so much,” Wanda said with a flutter of her hand.

  All color had leached from Javier’s dark, swarthy complexion, turning him pasty white as he visibly gulped. “You eat your pets?”

  “Oh, heavens no! I can’t remember the last time I ate my pet, can you, Luce?”

  Lucy had already started numbing her mind, if her half-empty margarita was any indication. “I think the last one was Mr. Pigs Feet when you were about nine.”

  “I think you’re right.” Wanda nodded as she sipped the drink Brogan served her. “Mr. Pigs Feet had gotten to be huge. Three hundred pounds. Daddy promised Mama she’d have all the smoked bacon she’d need for that year,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “And you didn’t mind”—Javier glanced around the table as if confused—“that your pet was slaughtered for smoked bacon?”

  “Oh, I cried for days and days. I don’t think I ate pork for two weeks after that.” Wanda fiddled with her cocktail napkin. “I made Daddy promise never to kill one of my pigs again.” She shifted in her seat, and Brogan and Javie openly enjoyed the wonderful display of exposed cleavage attached to large, jiggling breasts. Hey, any hot-blooded male would’ve done the same thing. And Wanda Pattershaw had been generously flaunting her assets since seventh grade to the appreciation of all guys near and far.

  “Can we stop with the pig and pork conversation? I think Fiona’s starting to sweat, and we all know pigs don’t sweat,” Lucy said, cocking her brow in warning at Wanda.

  Wanda smiled and fluffed her big brown curls, batting her eyes at Javier. “Absolutely. Sugar, why don’t you tell me all about your fine self? How do you know Brogan here?” Her long, orange-painted nail pointed in Brogan’s direction, but her gaze never left Javie’s flustered face.

  Javie blinked and then seemed to get comfortable in his chair as he peered at Brogan. “You never told me all the women in this town were beautiful Southern belles,” he said, using his heavy-Latin-pick-up-girls accent.

  Wanda leaned forward, assuring Javie’s gaze stayed glued on her. “That’s because not everyone in this town fits that description.” Wanda jerked in her seat. “Ow! Stop kicking me.” She squinted at Lucy. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve already got one guy…Buffed Brogan here. You don’t need Javier too.”

  Brogan smiled at Wanda. He’d known her since third grade, and she was putting on an act that would make a Broadway director take notice.

  “Does the name Russell mean anything to you?” Lucy asked between gritted teeth.

  “Not at the moment. Unless you’re referring to that hardheaded, no-good, termite-eaten two-by-four.”

  “You guys know whatcha want for dinner?” The waiter appeared, wearing a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt under cameo bib overalls, with his long hair tied back in a ponytail. He held a beat-up pad and stubby pencil in his beefy hand.

  “Ladies first,” Javier drawled.

  “I’ll have the chicken and biscuits, sweet potato fries, and the homemade coleslaw. Oh, and a large plate of scraps for Fiona,” Wanda said.

  “Me too. Except I’ll pass on the plate of scraps,” Lucy added.

  “Me three,” said Javier with a chuckle.

  “And you, sir?” The waiter glanced at Brogan.

  “He’ll have the vegan plate with garbanzo beans, alfalfa sprouts, and tofu. Go heavy on the tofu,” Lucy said in a snarky voice as she tipped her margarita to her lips.

  Beneath her short skirt, Brogan slid his hand on top of her soft thigh and gave a warning squeeze. Lucy bolted straight in her seat, clamping her legs together, trapping his fingers. Heaven or hell, Brogan only knew his hand had found a home. Clearing his throat, he slipped his fingers free and said, “Ignore that last order and bring me the fried chicken platter with a side salad. Thanks.”

  Before the waiter left, he refilled their drinks from the pitcher. Javier struck up a conversation with Wanda, and Lucy nudged Brogan with her elbow. “How did you know I’d be showing up here tonight? Is Miss Sue Percy spying for you?” Lucy’s citrusy smell made his blood surge, and Brogan wondered if she tasted the same way.

  Brogan smiled. “I managed to figure this one out without using Harmony’s busybody grapevine. Wasn’t too hard. Since there’re only a few places in town where Fiona is allowed, and the Daily Grind isn’t open for dinner, it had to be the Rolling Pin.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She reached for her drink, and Brogan noticed her hand trembled. “But why this sudden interest in me? And don’t tell me it’s because you want to look up my skirt, because there’re tons of willing girls in town whose skirts you could be chasing. Heck, you’ve probably been underneath half already.”

  Nope. Not even close. But this was about helping Lucy help BetterBites. “Here we go,” the waiter interrupted as he placed their plates on the table. “Y’all let me know if I can git you anything else, ya hear?” He used his best Gomer Pyle voice, realizing Javier was a new tourist in town. Hot biscuits and crispy fried chicken filled the table.

  “This looks divine and smells even better.” Wanda sniffed. The waiter bent and set a heaping tray of scraps next to Fiona on the floor, and from the sounds of the snorts, Fiona was as happy as a pig in slop.

  “Lucy, have you been by the store?” Javier asked.

  Lucy poured honey over her biscuit, ignoring Brogan as he scooted his chair into her territory. “Uh, I’ve driven by but haven’t been inside.”

  “You should go, Luce,” Wanda said. “It’s wonderfu
l, and Fiona adores the vegetarian meals. I know Brogan would be delighted to give you a personal tour.” She jabbed her knife at Brogan. “Be sure to show her where you store all those yummy muffins.” Wanda jumped in her chair. “Ow! Stop kicking me.” She scowled at Lucy.

  “Brogan tells me you’re back in town to help your sister. Do you plan to stay?” Javier asked Lucy.

  She stopped chewing. “Uh, no. A nurse is lined up once she comes home with the baby, and Parker will be back in school by then. She won’t need me after that.”

  “I don’t know, Luce,” Wanda said. “They say postpartum depression can set in and make mothers want to eat their young. And with Julia being perpetually bitchy…you might need to stay until the baby turns eighteen.”

  Brogan almost choked, his eyes watered, and he grabbed his drink. Javie attempted to cover his laughter with his napkin.

  “Wanda, are squirrels juggling knives in your head? Russell needs to hog-tie you and shove an apple in your mouth.” Lucy picked up her phone and started texting. “I think I’ll tell him to do just that.”

  “Lucy Doolan, don’t you dare.” Wanda reached over, snatched the phone, and shoved it down her bra. “There. Now behave. And being hog-tied is not as much fun as it sounds.”

  The table shook from Brogan and Javier’s laughter.

  Lucy spoke out of the side of her mouth. “Javier, when you get a minute, reach in there and get my phone back. Believe me, Wanda won’t mind.”

  “She’s right. I won’t,” Wanda purred. Brogan knew Javie wished he could be the cell phone nestled between Wanda’s breasts.

  “Let’s dance”—Brogan shoved his chair back, grabbing Lucy’s hand—“and give these two some alone time.”

  “I don’t want to dance.”

  “Sure you do. They’re playing Trace Adkins.”

  Wanda helped by pushing Lucy’s chair from the table with her foot. Brogan tugged Lucy around more dining tables to the middle of the sawdust-covered dance floor, where couples swayed to the band’s rendition of “Every Light in the House.” Slipping his right hand around the small of her back, he pressed her plush curves into his chest. Her smooth hair tickled his chin, and the smell of citrus filled his head. Lucy stood stiff as a telephone pole as he tried maneuvering to the slow beat of the music.