The B Girls - By Cari Cole Page 0,13

was a great big jerk about me taking off. He hinted that I might not like it if he found out he could do without me."

"And I got fired," Jane said. "Maybe we should find ourselves a nice beach shack on some South Pacific island. Eat coconuts and mangoes and tan for a few months."

"Maybe Belle's mystery will be enough of a distraction," Lucy said. "At the very least we can agree to leave our messes behind for the next couple of days. Belle has a way of putting things into perspective."

"So, what do you think this big mystery is?" Jane asked from the middle seat of Mae's gold, Dodge Caravan.

Lucy looked back from her spot in the front passenger seat. "Knowing Aunt Belle it could be anything. Although she did say it was a family mystery. Which is a little unusual. Belle's more likely to be searching for a lost tomb in Egypt than a lost relative in Georgia."

"Maybe she found out that you're descended from royalty in some tiny remote country and they need you to inherit the crown," Mae said.

"It's more likely she's discovered my parents are really fugitives on the run from some crime committed during Vietnam protests."

Mae slapped a hand over her mouth feigning shock. "Lucy!"

"What can I say? I grew up on a college campus."

"Now this is a story I haven't heard yet," Jane said. "The way I've heard you tell it before I pictured Dad in his tweed jacket with elbow patches, Mom with her hair in an appropriately professorial bun while they involved you in discussions about literature and philosophy."

"The professors identified a little more strongly with the revolutionary side of things," Lucy said. "I spent my middle school years in pot hazed rooms listening to intellectuals pontificate about LBJ, Nixon and their 'fascist cronies' leading us down the path to hell."

"Wow," Mae said. "That's different. You grew up in a house where drugs and ideas went together and I grew up in a house where drugs just fucked everything up."

"Believe me, from what I heard the pot didn't do much for the quality of the ideas being tossed around."

Jane shook her head. "My parents worshipped the almighty dollar. Their motto was 'you're blue--we sue'. Of course they retired rich and early."

"And here we are, the poster children for conformity. You ever feel like individuality is going the way of the dinosaur?" Lucy said.

"I read somewhere that more and more of America is looking the same," Mae said.

Jane looked quizzical. "How? I mean New York doesn't look anything like Colorado."

"The suburbs and small towns," Lucy said. "The same restaurants, stores, malls. I mean, can you even picture a city or town of any size without at least one four-lane road lined with, Chili's, McDonald's, Pizza Hut, Old Navy, PetsMart, Walmart, Barnes and Noble, Home Depot and on and on?"

"I never thought about it," Jane said.

"Well some people are starting to think about it. Have you ever seen Demolition Man with Sylvester Stallone?" Lucy said.

Jane shook her head.

"It's about the future. The politically correct future where all the restaurants are Taco Bell but they only serve healthy food. Smoking, foul language, the exchange of bodily fluids and anything else that might be considered bad for you or offensive to others has been outlawed. It's supposed to be Utopia."

"Sounds good to me," Mae said.

"It does, but the concept is taken to its absurd extreme conclusions. The movie is a cautionary tale about political correctness and conformity."

"How did we get on this topic?" Jane asked. "We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves."

Lucy gave herself a shake. "You're right. We should make a vow not to worry about anything for the next few days. Just go with the flow."

But the seed had been planted and all three of them were wondering what had happened to their younger, more adventurous selves. The ones who swore when they were sixteen that they weren't going to turn into their parents. They were going to travel, explore, learn new things and have amazingly fulfilled lives.

They were starting to think about bringing those younger, braver selves back to life.

The hour and a half drive from the Atlanta suburbs up into the mountains of North Georgia was always scenic but Lucy was wishing for the fall color that would blaze the trees in another couple of months.

Things always seemed more optimistic to her surrounded by the color and crisp air of fall.

August was hot and humid, the bright greens of spring having long