his nose reset. I had to convince them not to call the cops and have your tush dragged to jail!”
Depositing my purse behind the counter and doing a quick hair-over-hickey spot check, I try my best to look ashamed of myself. It’s really hard. “Okay, yes, I did kick him in the nose and I’m sorry for that, but I had my reasons.”
“Had your reasons? Ellie, that man is a freakin’ pillar of society. His daddy owns three Waffle & Chicken Huts and is single handedly responsible for the Annual Shriner Pancake Breakfast at the Harlow Bowl and Pool House Emporium.”
“I thought he sold waffles.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. Do you have any notion of the man you just let slip through your fingers?”
There’s no way out of this, I’m just going to have to tell her the truth. “Brook, I’m sorry to be the one that has to tell you this, but your second cousin Ellery is a toe-sucker.”
Brook’s terse mouth loosens. Her botoxed eyebrows barely move but her eyes double in size. “A toe-sucker?”
“Unfortunately, yes. He’s a lover of the little piggies,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and bringing my palms upward.
Brook, whose expression can be hard to read thanks to regular botulism injections, stares at me in disbelief. “But he’s a Christian.”
“Well, we all fall from grace sometimes. I’m going to give you a few minutes so you can properly take this in. I’ll be in the back when you’re ready to talk. Take your time.”
I back out of the room, leaving Brook standing stock still and stunned in the middle of the store, and make my way to our little bathroom in the back. I toss my hair back to assess the damage in the mirror. The hickey is smiling at me. I finger it gently, remembering Sam’s lips on my neck, on my shoulders, on my…other places. I apply concealer and foundation powder liberally, and the redness and bruising eventually disappear.
I strain my ears but the psychic alarm bells remain stubbornly silent. Either I’m losing my gift or I’ve finally found myself a winner. Sam, gorgeous Sam, could you be the one to give me my happily ever after? I hear the bell over the shop’s door chime and make my way back to the front. Amber is walking slow circles around the still incapacitated Brook, her lips pursed together in serious consideration.
“I knew this day would come,” she says.
“What’re you talking about?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The mixture of Botox, silicone, and hair spray has overloaded Brook’s brain and she’s gone into a coma.”
Amber, with the curiosity of a marine biologist studying a new species of plankton, moves her head side to side directly in front of Brook’s face, looking for obvious signs of brain damage. I walk over to them, gently take Brook by the hand, and lead her to sit on the stool behind the counter. I can hardly blame Amber for being fascinated by Brook’s state. I’m not sure Brook’s gone this long without gossiping in her entire life.
“Brook, Brook, it’s me, Ellie. Can you hear me?”
Brook’s eyes shift to mine as her mouth struggles to form words. There’s a flash of light from behind me and I turn to see Amber, phone in hand, snapping pictures of Brook in full break-down mode.
“Amber, shame on you,” I hiss.
“It’s important that we document this, Ellie. It’s for science.”
“Ellie?” Brook asks.
“Yes, Brook?”
“How did he, I mean, why did he…he’s a toe-sucker?”
“What’s she talking about?” Amber asks. “Whose toes got sucked?”
I shake my head at Amber and focus on Brook. “I know it’s a lot to take in. You go on back to your office and Amber and I will man the shop today, okay?”
Brook mirrors my head nod, rises from the stool and gingerly makes her way to the back of the shop where her small office is located.
“Whose toes got sucked? Wait, was it you? Are you a closet fetishist?” Amber follows me around the counter, eyes fixed on my face for signs of guilt.
“Fine, yes, my toes got sucked. Can we drop it now?”
Amber’s glee at this admission reminds me of the joy I felt when my mother brought home Spot, our Border Collie. My glee was born from the joy a puppy brings to the heart of a young girl. Amber’s glee is born out the possibility that I’m now a possible candidate for her social S&M group.
“Did he tie you up, too? Were there chains involved?”