end of the yard where the bayou meanders along, filled with creepy critters. I know that somewhere behind the converted garage to my right is a cobblestone lane that leads to the old family cemetery where my mother expects to be buried.
“Why are you walking funny?” my mother wants to know.
“I broke a heel.” If I am careful and keep my weight off my shoe, I think it can be easily repaired. I might spend a lot of money on clothes and shoes, but I take good care of them so they will last.
“The key fits but the door won’t open,” Lindsey tells me.
The sun beats down on us, and I feel myself sweating like a dog, which I much prefer to pig. I shrug out of my blazer and pull the front of my blouse from my damp skin. “Let me try.” Lindsey hands me the key, and I confirm she’s right. It fits, the handle turns, but nothing. I’d put a shoulder into it, but I’ve learned my lesson. To my right, I hear a clicking sound from the overgrown shrubs that shoves my heart up into my throat. Like someone with a camera is hiding in the shrubbery, or a giant insect is preparing to launch an attack on my clammy neck. The first possibility isn’t likely, and the second makes my sweaty skin crawl and raises my shoulders to my ears.
“The doors won’t open.” Mother states the obvious. “Call someone for help.”
I close my eyes and take a deep, cleansing breath to keep my head from exploding. “There’s no one I can call.” I don’t want to explode. I don’t want to yell and scream and act crazy, but I can feel it bubbling up.
“Call Tony.”
I press my fingertips to the seam of my lips. I know Mom isn’t purposely trying to make my head explode, but she’s standing next to a powder keg with a box of matches in her hand.
“I don’t think he’s coming,” Lindsey helps me out. Over the past month, she’s heard Mom drop his name, forcing me to explain my reaction to the jerk.
“Sure he is. He’ll get the real key from Wynonna. Then she’ll be sorry.”
My foot wobbles, my ankles twists, and I slowly list to one side. “Fuck!”
My mother gasps, and I drop my hand from my mouth. She hates the f-word as much as I do. Maybe a little more. “Lou Ann! Don’t be trashy.”
She’s right. Swearing is trashy, and a bad habit best never picked up. “Sorry.” I’m sinking starboard—then snap, the heel of my Manolo shoots off into the clicking shrub. One leg is suddenly shorter than the other and sweat is running down the side of my neck. “Great! My shoe just broke.”
“Wynonna stole my shoes.” Mom shakes her head, and the ends of her side pony brush across her shoulder. “Tony will make her give them back. The key too.”
“Stop talking about him.” Stop flicking lighted matches in my direction. “Don’t even mention his name to me.”
Her red lips purse as she stares straight ahead at the locked door. She’s mad, but hopefully she’ll stop talking about Tony.
“Maybe we can find a screwdriver or something in the garage,” Lindsey suggests.
“Or a hacksaw,” I add.
Lindsey one-ups me. “Chain saw. This door would definitely require a chain saw.”
“He’s like a son.”
Boom—red flashes behind my eyes and I explode. “I hate that fucker!” I put a hand on top of my head to keep it from flying off into the shrub after my four-inch heel. Pain stabs my temples, and my inner trashy nature takes over like a demon possession. A torrent of filth gushes from my mouth, and I couldn’t stop it even if I tried.
Mom gasps and clutches the front of her jogging suit, but I don’t seem to care that I’m giving her heart failure. Words I’ve never used spew forth like a fount of profanity and my crescendo is so glorious, so spectacular, teenage boys from around the world must be writhing with envy. “Tony’s a rat bastard, son of a bitch, fuck-fucking-fucker, squirrel-dick shit taco!” I take a deep breath and slowly blow it out. The demon has been exorcised.
Mother’s lips are pursed even tighter. Lindsey’s eyes are wide.
Did I really say “squirrel-dick shit taco”?
One side of the back doors swings open and a man, looking every bit like he’s straight off the cover of Men’s Fitness magazine, drawls in a smooth, Southern voice, “How can I help you, ladies?”