Bunco Babes Tell All

by Maria Geraci

  “Thanks, but I’m sure Moose has his hands full babysitting the girls,” Kitty said, skimming her index finger down the short list of plumbers.

  “You’d better get the toilet fixed, and fast. Everyone’s going to be here soon,” Shea said. She threw Pilar a sideways glance that made Kitty’s finger freeze halfway down the page.

  Kitty stared hard at Pilar. “You didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” Pilar asked, her brown eyes going wide. Which was an immediate tip-off. Innocent wasn’t a natural look for Pilar. Shrewd and lawyerlike, definitely. But innocent, never.

  “Tell me you didn’t get a stripper for tonight.”

  “I didn’t,” Pilar said, helping herself to some pizza. “I got you an exotic dancer.”

  Kitty tried to ignore the way the cheese stretched out into long glorious gooey strings. “You’re so unoriginal. You got Shea a stripper for her last birthday too. It was horrible.” The stripper had been cute, but he couldn’t have been older than nineteen and he had kept sticking his wanker in Shea’s face. It had been funny for about five seconds. “Cancel him,” Kitty said.

  “We can’t cancel,” Shea said. “Everyone’s expecting him.”

  “Plus, we’ve already paid him,” Pilar added. “He’s nonre fundable.”

  Fighting off some pimple-faced college kid wasn’t Kitty’s idea of a good time. But Pilar and Shea were right. If they canceled him now, the Babes would be disappointed.

  Kitty sighed. “Is he hot?”

  Pilar looked offended. “Of course he’s hot. I picked him out myself. Look, we’re not doing this for us. We’re doing it for you. It’s the only way to get over your stripperphobia.”

  “My what?”

  “Stripperphobia,” Pilar said. “It’s an unnatural fear of men who take off their clothes.”

  Shea nodded, a serious look on her face. “Really, Kit. Do you think we want to see some hot young guy get naked?”

  Kitty shook her head. It was easier just to give in. “Okay, but no handcuffs. Got it?”

  Pilar smiled. “I knew you’d come around. You always do.”

  Wasn’t that the truth?

  Kitty gave Pilar a snarky smile and concentrated her energy on what was really important—her plumbing. She punched Gus’s number into the phone. It was almost seven p.m. Please, God, she prayed, don’t let me get his voice mail.

  A gruff voice on the other end answered on the fifth ring. “Pappas and Son Plumbing.”

  Crap. Not the plumber she was hoping for. “Joey?”

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  Across the kitchen, Pilar locked eyes with her and giggled. Kitty gave Pilar her best eat-shit-and-die look. In eighth grade, for about three weeks, Joey Pappas had been Kitty’s first boyfriend.

  “It’s Kitty Burke. Is Gus in?”

  “Hey, Kit Kat. Whatcha up to?”

  “About an inch of water,” she said, inwardly cringing at the old nickname. “Can Gus come over for an emergency after-hours call?”

  “What kind of emergency?”

  “Overflowing toilet.”

  “Did you turn off the water?”

  Her right eyelid began to twitch. “Yeah, Joey, I shut off the water.”

  “You got a plunger?”

  “I already tried that,” she said, keeping her voice as pleasant as possible.

  “Humph,” he grumbled. Then after a long, drawn-out pause, as if he had to think hard about it, he said, “I’ll tell you what. Just use another toilet for tonight. Dad or I will be out first thing in the morning.”

  “I only have one toilet in the house.”

  “I thought you just moved into your grandma’s old place. The one on Seville Street. Only one toilet?”

  Kitty could almost see Joey now, pulling up his pants to cover his exposed ass crack. “Gus had to yank out the other toilet. Really, Joey, I wouldn’t be calling unless I needed help. Bunco’s at my house tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  Everyone in Whispering Bay knew about the Babes. Joey’s wife Christy subbed for them occasionally and was number one on the waiting list to join as a permanent member. None of the women on the sub list were holding their breath, though. There were only two reasons anyone would quit the Babes. Death or moving away from Whispering Bay. Neither had ever happened.

  “We were just heading out to Panama City Beach. There’s a big bowling thing going on tonight.” Joey paused. “I’ll tell you what, my cousin Steve is here visiting. I’ll send him over. He doesn’t bowl.”

  “That would be wonderful. Thanks, Joey,” Kitty said in a falsely sweet voice. She hung up just as Pilar and Shea burst out laughing.

  “I don’t know how you can keep a straight face when you talk to him,” Shea said.

  “This is Kitty Burke,” Pilar said, imitating Joey’s deep voice. “She’s the reason I’m such a damn good kisser.”

  “I still can’t believe that’s how he first introduced you to Christy in the middle of the grocery-store line,” Shea said, giggling.

  “Welcome to my life,” Kitty said, eyeing the Tiny’s pizza box.

  Pilar took a blue plastic bag from the countertop and emptied the contents onto the kitchen table. “Check this out.” She held up a large, fluffy pink feather boa and a glittery silver tiara. “For the birthday girl.” She plopped the tiara on top of Kitty’s head while Shea placed the feather boa around Kitty’s neck.

  Kitty stifled a sneeze. “Do I have to wear this? You know how feathers make me itch.”

  Pilar frowned. “This way the strip—the exotic dancer will be able to recognize you right away.”

  Kitty stared at the stubborn look in their eyes. It was no use. Gram’s house was falling apart, a man-boy was on his way over to shake his groove thing in her face, and she was going to have to pay overtime to Joey Pappas’s cousin to fix the toilet.

  She rearranged the boa higher around her neck and pulled free the largest slice of pizza she could sink her teeth into.

  Snail metabolism be damned.

  2

  In less than an hour, the place was full of women. Loud women rolling dice. Women consuming large quantities of pizza and margaritas. It wouldn’t be long before one of the Babes needed to pee. Kitty’s own bladder felt like Krakatoa ready to blow.

  Lorraine Wilson sat across from her at the card table, jiggling the dice in her hand. “What number are we on?” she asked. Lorraine sucked as a partner. She always talked too much while playing and never kept score.

  “I think we had fourteen,” Kitty said, crossing her legs tightly. Why did she have that second margarita? She glanced at her watch. When was this Steve character going to show up?

  “You had thirteen,” said Brenda Middlemas, frowning. If anyone would know the score, it was Brenda. She was their resident Bunco Nazi.

  Lorraine shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “But if you think you had fourteen, then I’ll give it to you,” Brenda said. “I don’t want to cheat you out of your score.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, don’t do me any favors,” Lorraine grumbled, throwing the dice. “I’ll take the thirteen.”

  Last week, Brenda and Lorraine had gotten into an argument over who had thrown the most Buncos during a game. Brenda had eventually backed down and the situation had been defused, but Kitty didn’t want a repeat.

  “When is the stripper supposed to show up?” Kitty asked in a voice loud enough to carry over all three tables.

  The dice stopped rolling and the Babes let out a collective moan of disappointment.

  “Exotic dancer,” Pilar clarified.

  Tina Navarone threw her dice on the table in disgust. “I thought it was supposed to be a surprise.”

  “I guessed,” Kitty said, giving them what she hoped was a bright smile.

  “Do you think he’ll be in costume?” Brenda asked, her near-miss brouhaha with Lorraine seemingly forgotten.

  “For what we’re paying him, he’d better be,” Pilar said. “Maybe he’ll be
dressed as a cop. Or a fireman. I love firemen.”

  Kitty liked firemen too. But they reminded her of water. And water made her think of . . .

  She gave up trying to hold it in. “I’m going next door to throw myself on Mrs. Pantini’s mercy and beg to use her toilet. Anyone else in?”

  The Babes shook their heads and the chatter resumed. Kitty went to pull off her tiara.

  “Oh no, you don’t!” Shea said. “The tiara and the boa stay.”

  “Whatever, just so long as I get to pee.”

  “Go ahead,” Pilar said, waving her away. “I’ll warm up your seat if the exotic dancer comes while you’re gone.”

  Kitty ran next door and rang the bell. After a minute of painfully shuffling from leg to leg, she pressed the bell again. “Mrs. Pantini?” she cried. “It’s Kitty!” Her grandmother had been at least a decade older than Mrs. Pantini, but the two women had been best friends. Together, they had founded the Gray Flamingos, Whispering Bay’s answer to the Gray Panthers. The Flamingos were always protesting or passing around a petition for something or other.

  Still no answer at the door.

  Kitty cupped her hands around her eyes and tried to peek through the side window, but the drapes were pulled too tightly. She ran to the back patio and looked through the French doors into the darkened kitchen. Armand, Mrs. Pantini’s old yellow cat, stared back and meowed. With a sinking sensation, Kitty remembered it was bridge night at the senior center.

  No longer able to run, she hobbled through the backyard and wedged herself between the tall azaleas that formed a natural fence between the two properties. The hibiscus plants she had warned Pilar off were now looking like a pretty good option. She’d never peed outdoors before—she didn’t count that time in college when she’d had too much to drink, because, quite frankly, she didn’t remember it. She only had Pilar’s word on that and Pilar had been piss-ass drunk herself.

  She searched out a secluded spot near an overgrown shrub. Thank God she was wearing a sundress. It made the whole process a lot easier. She bunched the skirt above her waist, then shimmied her way out of the new hot-pink-and-black-polka-dot silk thong she had purchased through the Victoria’s Secret catalogue. She’d never been much of a thong girl, but it made her feel sexy and took some of the sting out of knowing that tomorrow she would be edging her way to the dark side of her thirties. Besides, it matched the pink boa. Not that anyone else would know that.

  “Yes!” she half shouted, half moaned, finally relieving herself. She straightened her tiara and was about to slip the thong back on when she noticed the shiny red pickup truck parked on the side of her garage. Where had that come from?

  She whirled around and locked gazes with a tall, dark-haired man standing less than a dozen feet away.

  In the immortal words of Hugh Grant, Fuck-a-doodle-doo.

  The man’s right cheek twitched, like he was trying not to laugh. “Sorry to interrupt.” His voice was deep and laced with humor. Not a native north Floridian, she thought, failing to detect any trace of the southern twang common to the area. He wore a white T-shirt, tan work boots, and a pair of faded, snug-fitting jeans. As exotic dancers went, the construction costume seemed pretty lame. But she couldn’t see this guy dressed as a fireman either. Something about him exuded an Old World sort of danger. Like pinstripe suits, fedora hats, and tommy guns.

  The gangster image suited him perfectly.

  Pilar was right. This guy was hot. Maybe the stripper idea wasn’t so bad after all.

  She took a deep breath and relaxed. He didn’t act as if he’d just witnessed anything weird. If the guy took his clothes off for a living, he’d probably seen a lot stranger things than a woman with a tiara and a pink feather boa peeing in the bushes.

  He walked up to her and glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. “Kitty Burke?” he asked. He was close enough now that she could see a few isolated strands of gray along his temples.

  Her heart began to thump wildly.

  Something here wasn’t right. For one thing, he seemed oddly familiar. And he was no man-boy. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties. Maybe just a tad too old to be a stripper . . .

  “You’re Joey’s cousin?” she heard herself squeak.

  “Steve Pappas,” he said with a smile, extending his hand.

  Kitty froze. The pink-and-black-polka-dot thong burned a hole through her palm. Instinctively, she fisted the tiny scrap of silk in her hand and thrust it behind her back.

  He immediately dropped his hand. But the smile was still there.

  Oh God. She could hear Joey now. “This is Kitty Burke. Back in eighth grade we played tonsil hockey together, and according to my cousin Steve, she likes to pee in her backyard.”

  3

  “If you’ll show me where the toilet is, I can fix it and get out of your way,” said Steve the Plumber. He nodded toward the parked cars along the street. “Looks like you got a party going on.”

  “It’s my Bunco group,” Kitty blurted.

  “Bunco?”

  “It’s a dice game. You know, lots of rowdy women, frozen alcoholic beverages. That sort of thing,” she babbled.

  He smiled, like he knew exactly what she was talking about, but he was probably just humoring her. “So, can you show me the bathroom?”

  Kitty jumped into action. “Sure, follow me.” She led him through the empty kitchen. He walked directly behind her, and although Kitty couldn’t see him, she had the horrible sensation he was staring straight at her ass. Her now thong-less ass, that is.

  Picking up speed, she purposely left him trailing behind to have a few seconds alone in the bathroom. She flung open the medicine chest above the sink and jammed the thong in the space next to her disposable razors, then slammed the door shut.

  There! Now she was in control again.

  She turned to find him standing in the doorway, a blank expression on his face.

  “Thanks for coming out here after hours. I know Joey probably told you I sounded like some pathetic loser woman who can’t function without a man on the phone, but I’m renovating, and up until an hour ago, this was my only working toilet. And I really did try to unclog it myself,” she said, spilling the words out so fast she had to catch her breath.

  He grinned. “Joey never used the word ‘loser.’ ” Steve the Plumber had a beautiful smile. Lots of even white teeth set against a day’s worth of dark stubble.

  She laughed nervously, suddenly aware of how tiny her bathroom was. The fact she wasn’t wearing anything beneath the thin sundress didn’t help either.

  His gaze traveled over the bathroom, taking in the antique marble sink and the crown molding. “This is a great house. You don’t see much Spanish Revival around here. Looks a lot like an Addison Mizner. When was it built? Early thirties?”

  “Exactly,” she said, surprised by his architectural knowledge. “It’s a complete Mizner rip-off. The house belonged to my grandmother and I—”

  A wave of laughter erupted from the living room. “Oh, Ki-i-i-tty!” she heard Pilar shout. “There’s someone here to see you!”

  The stripper. She had forgotten about him.

  “I’ll be right there!” she yelled back. “You think you can fix this?” she asked Steve.

  He crouched down to inspect the toilet. “I have a closet auger in the truck that should do the job.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s like a mini-snake.”

  She nodded, way too familiar with the term. Two weeks ago the only snakes she knew about were the kind that slithered on the ground. Or a couple of her ex-boyfriends. She really needed to get this plumbing situation under control. And the leaky roof, and the air conditioner . . .

  “If you need anything, just let me know,” she said, wishing she could stay in the bathroom instead of facing whatever was out there.

  Pilar and Shea were waiting for her in the kitchen. “I was about to send out a search party,” Shea said, straining her neck to gaze down the hallway. “Who
was the guy you brought in through the back?”

  “Joey Pappas’s cousin.”

  Pilar blinked. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “Wow,” said Shea.

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” said Kitty.

  She was about to tell them how Steve the Plumber had caught her whizzing in the bushes when Pilar grabbed her by the arm and shoved her toward the door. “C’mon. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

  Kitty stood firm, refusing to budge until she made her point. “Remember, no handcuffs. And no letting this guy grind his thing in my face. You know how much I hate that shit.”

  “His thing?” Pilar laughed. “But that’s the best part!”

  A discreet cough from behind made Kitty whirl around. Naturally, it was Steve the Plumber. Maybe the earth would open up and swallow her whole. After all, tomorrow was her birthday. Something had to start going her way.

  “I need to get the snake out of my truck,” he said, by way of explanation.

  “Oh sure. Um, this is Pilar and Shea,” Kitty said, feeling her face go hot. “This is Steve Pappas.”

  “So you’re Kitty’s knight in shining armor,” Pilar said, turning on the charm. “I went to school with your cousin.”

  “Along with half the town,” he said in a friendly tone, shaking both their hands.

  They waited till he was out the door, then Shea and Pilar burst out laughing.

  “That is so not funny,” Kitty said, peeking out the kitchen window to watch Steve go to his truck. The view from the back was just as good as the view from the front. She could almost feel the drool drip off her chin. He fished something out of the back of the truck and glanced toward the kitchen door. Kitty quickly ducked her head down.

  Oh God. He hadn’t caught her staring, had he?

  What was wrong with her? It’s not like she’d never seen a man with a great ass before.

  Okay, so men with great asses weren’t exactly a dime a dozen in Whispering Bay.

  “Do you think he heard me?” Kitty asked. “About the ‘thing’ part?”