Seven Up - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,90

but she didn't come to the ceremony." He shook his head. "Lots of police in attendance. It ruined the privacy."

"I guess you're still looking for Choochy," Benny said. "You should be careful of him. He's a little . . ." Benny made a circling motion against his head with his index finger to denote screw loose. "Not like Sophia, though. Chooch is an okay person at heart."

"It's the stroke and the stress," Ziggy said. "Stress shouldn't be underestimated. If you need help with Choochy you should call us. Maybe we could do something."

Benny nodded his head. I should call them.

"Your hair looks nice," Ziggy said. "You got a perm, right?"

They stood and Benny gave me a box. "I got some peanut brittle for you. Estelle brought it back from Virginia."

"You can't buy peanut brittle up here like they got in Virginia," Ziggy said.

I thanked them for the peanut brittle and closed the door behind them. I gave them five minutes to clear the building, and then I grabbed my black leather jacket and bag and locked up.

MY MOTHER LOOKED past me when she came to the door. "Where's Joe? Where's your car?"

"I traded my car in for the bike."

"That bike at the curb?"

I nodded.

"It looks like one of those Hell's Angels bikes."

"It's a Harley."

That's when it hit her. The hair. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open. "Your hair," she whispered.

"I thought I'd try something new."

"My God, you look like that singer . . ."

"Madonna?"

"Art Garfunkel."

I left my helmet, jacket, and bag in the hall closet and took my seat at the table.

"You got here right in tine," Grandma said. "Holy cats! Look at you. You look just like that singer."

"I know," I snapped. "I know."

"Where's Joseph?" my mother said. "I thought he was coming to dinner."

"We've sort of . . . broken up."

Everyone stopped eating, except for my father. My father used the opportunity to take more potatoes.

"That's impossible," my mother said. "You have a gown."

"I canceled the gown."

"Does Joseph know this?"

"Yep." I tried to act casual, digging in to my meal, asking my sister to pass the green beans. I can get through this, I thought. I'm a blonde. I can do anything.

"It's the hair, isn't it?" my mother asked. "He called the wedding off because of the hair."

"I called the wedding off. And I don't want to talk about it."

The doorbell rang and Valerie jumped up. "That's for me. I have a date."

"A date!" my mother said. "That's wonderful. You've been here such a short time and already you have a date."

I did some mental eye rolling. My sister is clueless. This is what happens when you grow up as the good girl. You never learn the value of lies and deceit. I never brought my dates home. You meet dates at the mall so you don't give your parents a stroke when your date shows up with tattoos and tongue studs. Or, in this case, is a lesbian.

"This is Janeane," Valerie said, introducing a short, dark-haired woman. "I met her when I interviewed at the bank. I didn't get the job but Janeane asked me out."

"She's a woman," my mother said.

"Yes, we're lesbians," Valerie said.

My mother fainted. Crash. Flat out on the floor.

Everyone jumped up and ran to my mother.

She opened her eyes but didn't move a muscle for a good thirty seconds. Then she yelled out, "A lesbian! Mother of God. Frank, your daughter's a lesbian."

My father squinted at Valerie. "Is that my tie you've got on?"

"You have a lot of nerve," my mother said, still on her back on the floor. "All those years when you were normal and had a husband, you lived in California. And now that you're here you turn into a lesbian. Isn't it enough your sister shoots people? What kind of a family is this?"

"I hardly ever shoot anyone," I said.

"I bet there are lots of good things to being a lesbian," Grandma said. "If you marry a lesbian you never have to worry about someone leaving the toilet seat up."

I got under one arm and Valerie got under the other and we got my mother to her feet.

"There you go," Valerie said, all chipper. "Feeling better?"

"Better?" my mother said. "Better?"

"Well, we're going now," Valerie said, retreating to the foyer. "Don't wait up. I've got a key."

My mother excused herself, went to the kitchen, and smashed another plate.

"I've never known her to smash plates," I said to Grandma.

"I'm going to lock up all the knives tonight, just