Caught in the Crotchfire Read online

  So. He didn’t want me. But why had he stayed married to me? Because God told him to. And where did that leave us? In a very polite platonic marriage?

  But this was Tony, who had not been able get enough of me, once. Yes, he was ten years older now, but that was only ten years. He was still a man very much in his prime. A man who had been celibate for ten years of that prime. He should have been chomping at all kinds of bits, so to speak.

  In the months since my failed attempt, Tony had been nothing but sweet and attentive. We danced around the awkwardness of the situation, neither of us willing to say out loud what we really wanted. We set up a weekly date night, which invariably ended with a quick peck on the cheek at the front door of my trailer. I joined his huge family for Sunday dinner. He almost always took my calls, even if he was busy. He told me I looked nice, whether I did or not.

  So frustrating.

  After work I decided to head over to G-Ma’s and get some clarification on this 9-1-1 issue. G-Ma sometimes minimized situations that warranted a complete freakout, and vice versa. For instance, once when the motel was found to be in violation of the health code because the service she was using didn’t wash the sheets right and they were all disgustingly stained, she bought new darker sheets that hid stains better.

  On the way, I called Tony on my new phone. I couldn’t help it. I needed to hear his voice and make sure he wasn’t the cold, disdainful robot-man from my dream.

  “Guess what?” I said as soon as he answered.

  “What?”

  “I’m calling you on the new phone I won today from that place that went into business beside Flo’s Bow Wow Barbers.”

  “Seriously? That’s fantastic!” He sounded genuinely pleased, and that made my tummy flutter.

  “I know! A free phone and free service for a year. I don’t know how to work any of it yet, but I can figure it out.”

  “Well, you called me, so you know how to do the most important thing. Bring it to dinner on Sunday and I’ll have Ernie look at it for you. I’m sure he can help you.”

  Ernie was Tony’s thin, brilliant, glasses-wearing nephew who was either going to be a brilliant doctor type who saved the world, or take out a mega-mall with a homemade incendiary device. He was quiet and kept to himself.

  “I’m sure he can. Listen, are you busy later? I thought maybe you could come over and we could watch TV.”

  “Oh, sorry, I can’t tonight. I need to monitor some new employees.”

  “No problem.”

  “We’re still on for date night, though, right?”

  “Of course.” Thursday night. Three days away. He wasn’t exactly dying to see me.

  Oh wait. I was casting my anxieties. “Sounds good,” I said. “See you then.” I pushed the “end” icon, feeling a tiny thrill that it was an icon and not an actual button like on my dinosaur phone.

  A car horn blared, and a white sedan roared past me, barely missing my front fender. I screamed and swerved, dropping the phone.

  I was talking on the phone while I was driving and almost had a wreck!

  My heart thudded in my chest and I pulled to the side of the street. My hands shook as I pulled slowly into the parking lot of a Just-a-Buck store and coasted to a stop, slamming the car into park.

  From the passenger seat, Stump gave me an annoyed look and a “hmmph” noise, then rested her nose back between her front paws.

  I put my hand to my chest, my heart pounding. I felt like an idiot for doing what I had complained just this morning about other people doing. I looked up and noticed in the rear view mirror that a small crowd was gathered around the door of the Just-A-Buck. They were all staring in the opposite direction, where the sedan had just headed.

  It was only then that I realized the near-miss hadn’t been my fault. That car had come barreling out of this parking lot and swerved across traffic, directly into my path.

  This crowd must have seen it and were outraged on my behalf. That went a long way towards making me feel better.

  Except that must not be right, because they were all looking toward the car and a couple of them were now on their own cell phones, talking and gesturing excitedly.

  Then it hit me. A white sedan. Clovis Highway. The High Point Bandits!

  “Stay here,” I said to Stump, hopping out of the car.

  “Was that them?” I asked the first person I came to in the onlookers, a short skinny woman around G-Ma’s age, wearing a purple velour track suit.

  “Sure was,” she said, her lips flattened. “Damned heathens.”

  “They almost plowed right into me,” I said. “I was just driving down the street and they almost mowed me down.” I wasn’t on my phone or anything, I wanted to add.

  “Well, they didn’t almost rob me, they for sure robbed me.” This from a middle-aged man with several thin strips of hair combed over his bald spot. He wore black slacks and a black and yellow Just-A-Buck polo shirt.

  I looked around the small crowd. “Did anybody get a good luck at them?”

  “I did,” one lanky guy with a beard said. “Four of them. All wearing black. Black clothes, black masks.”

  “They stormed in and started making a lot of racket,” the woman in the track suit said. “Of all the hollering and carrying on. Animals, that’s what they are. Heathen animals.”

  “I don’t suppose anyone got a license plate, did they?”

  There was some mumbling among the group, but it soon became apparent no one had. “Did they even have a license plate?” the lanky guy asked. He turned to me. “They drove right by you. Did you see?”

  “I was too busy panicking that they almost t-boned me,” I said. “I didn’t see anything but spots, because my heart was pounding so hard.”

  “I hear that,” the lady said.

  At least three of the onlookers had reached 9-1-1 by this time, and the police were there within five minutes. I wondered for a minute if I should stick around and give a statement, but I decided that since I had Stump in the car and didn’t have anything to add to what was by now general knowledge — a white four-door sedan with four people wearing black (and I wasn’t sure if I’d actually seen that or just knew that from all the news reports) I decided to peel away and head to G-Ma’s.

  The parking lot to the Executive Inn, although not full by any means, was fuller than I’d seen it in years. Maybe ever. I pulled slowly through, past the filled-in swimming pool that was still surrounded by a short metal fence, still had the metal handrails for the steps that were no longer there. I looked from the motel to the small tamale factory in the center of the parking lot. It was here that a series of low-budget entrepreneurs had had their dreams dashed against the restaurant breakers until Mario rented the building from G-Ma and started a tamale delivery business that was doing so well, rumors sometimes circulated that he must be delivering more than tamales. This was only from people who had never tasted Mario’s tamales, though.

  The increased traffic wasn’t due to Mario, though. He delivered all his wares through an army of nieces and nephews and cousins and grandkids. This traffic was all Executive Inn, so I supposed G-Ma was right. Business was better than ever. Who’da thunk?

  “Guess who I passed on the way here?” I asked her as I lugged Stump through the door to the motel’s office and G-Ma’s apartment.

  G-Ma glared at Stump, but didn’t say anything.

  I tucked Stump closer, making it clear that I didn’t intend to let her down to run rampant all over G-Ma’s 1984 vintage sculpted carpet. That appeared to mollify her.

  “It wasn’t Claudia Comer, was it? That was her this morning and now she’s telling the whole town that I held her at gunpoint. Can you believe that? I’ve had three calls already. The whole bingo parlor is all up in arms about it. Like she was ever in any danger! Good Lord save me from melodramatic old hens!” She reached out from her rocker and slapped at a fly with the green plastic fly swatter she’d had for as long as I could remember.

  Me too, I tho
ught as I leaned over and hugged my own melodramatic old hen. “No, it was the robbers. They almost t-boned me as I was coming down Clovis Highway. They robbed the Just-a-Buck.”

  “No!” She hauled herself out of her chair and lifted the metal blind away from the window. “Those animals. They’re going to keep going until people are afraid to come to this part of town.”

  I perched on the stool behind the counter where I’d spent a great part of my childhood. “Listen, I want you to think about something for me, okay? Just consider it.”

  Her drawn-on auburn eyebrows lowered and she frowned. “What?”

  “Just keep an open mind, okay? I want you to think about keeping your gun unloaded.”

  “Oh yeah, of course,” she said, her lips flat and her eyes flashing. “Right now when I’m more in danger than I’ve ever been, when I have more to lose than I’ve ever had, I’ll just take away the one way I have to defend myself.”

  “G-Ma, just listen to me. You could still hold the gun. If the robbers came, they would see it in your hand and think you were armed. It would achieve the exact same effect, only without the risk of…” You shooting an innocent bystander. “Of something going wrong.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She crossed her arms over her bosom. “Okay, I thought about it. Nothing doing.”

  I sighed. “Well, as long as you keep an open mind.”

  “What I have is a mind that’s sat here and listened to one business after another get taken down by these goons and the police not do one thing about it. They have no idea who’s behind this and no idea how to stop them. I’ve had this motel for thirty years and I’ve been robbed more times than I can count.”

  So, she couldn’t count to three. Because I happened to know that she’d been robbed three times. One time had been by a fifteen-year-old kid there on a dare who had been so terrified to begin with, and became more so when he saw her bring that big pistol out from behind the counter, that he’d actually started to cry. But sometimes it made G-Ma feel good to play the tough-as-nails heroine of her own dramatic life story.

  “I defended myself through every one of them, and I’m not going to roll over for them now. This fat lady ain’t singing yet. Did your mom call you?”

  “Call me what?” For a moment the question caught me off guard. “Oh, you mean, call me on the phone? No, why?” Mom never called me. If she happened to be in a family-calling kind of place (i.e. “I need money” or “I am getting married again”) she called G-Ma and had her pass on any necessary messages to me. She avoided calling me because I “could be so judgmental.” “Does she need money, or is she getting married again?”

  “Number B. Getting married again. This is the one, though, the big catch.”

  “Another one?”

  “For real this time. She’s swearing on her life.”

  “Does she want us there for the wedding this time?”

  “I’m not sure. She said she was going to call you and talk about it.”

  Well, this was new. At least I had a new phone to take the call.

  “Does that dog need to go poo? She looks kind of fretful to me.”

  I looked at Stump. She and G-Ma weren’t exactly on the best of terms. For one thing, G-Ma knew her name and refused to say it. She never saw Stump that she didn’t express concern that she was about to shoot out a geyser of poo, and I couldn’t help but think that Stump picked up on these non-supportive vibes.

  Stump yawned and let out a humph sound that had G-Ma on the edge of her seat.

  “Is she — ”

  “Yeah, I better take her outside,” I said, rising and tucking Stump against my hip. I was ready to go anyway. “Think about what I said,” I reminded her on the way out, knowing it was a lost cause. “Please try not to shoot anyone.”

  “Not making any promises,” she called after me as the door swung closed.

  I did think Stump could use a walk around before we drove home, so I carried her around the back to the strip of grass between the motel and the empty lot behind it.

  Except it wasn’t empty now. A used car lot sat there, complete with plastic bunting slapping in the wind and one of those wind sock balloon guys lurching drunkenly. Five Star Excellent Auto Sales read the sign over the little portable building that sat toward the back of the lot.

  Stump growled at the wind sock man, but needed to pee too badly to give it much energy.

  I was quite sure that car lot hadn’t been there the last time I visited G-Ma. She’d said that her business had never been better, so I supposed the robberies, worrisome as they were, weren’t hurting the area very much.

  Chapter Two

  A Wedding?

  I celebrated my big day by scrolling through the Fat Fighters app and finding a new recipe for a Chinese dish. I stopped by Greene’s Grocers because Mandy Greene knew me from high school and would let me sneak Stump in while I shopped, as long as I didn’t stay too long and the health inspectors weren’t there.

  I picked up chicken breasts, cabbage, and a can of water chestnuts – pretty sure I already had the rest of the ingredients. I was back home and busily chopping cabbage when the new phone dinged. It had such a nice little ding.

  “Did Mother tell you? I finally did it, Salem. I found a good man.”

  “That’s great, Mom. I’m happy for you.” See? Does that sound “judgmental?”

  “I am too!” she giggled. “I mean, after an entire lifetime of one loser after another. Finally.”

  “Mmmhmm.” I refrained from pointing out that one of those losers had been my father. Because I mean…yeah. He hadn’t stuck around, so there wasn’t much in the way of a defense for him. Of course, I had only Mom’s word for it that he knew he had a daughter, and Mom and the truth had an on-again, off-again relationship. Still, we’d stayed fairly close to home for the past thirty years, so I always thought he must at least suspect, even if he hadn’t been told.

  “He’s a good man,” Mom was saying. “Comes from a good family. A very good family, in fact. His mother was featured in Amarillo Hearth and Home last year.”

  “What is that, like a magazine or something?”

  “Are you serious? Yes, it’s a lifestyle magazine, a very prestigious one.”

  “Mmm,” I said, in what I hoped sounded like an appropriately impressed tone.

  “It’s the best local magazine that all the lifestyle experts read and are featured in. They did a six-page spread on the house and yard. Gerry isn’t in it, but he looks a lot like his dad. It’s all online. You should look it up.”

  I could actually do that on my new phone, I thought happily as I fished celery that was only a little bit floppy from the fridge. While I was at it, I would look up “lifestyle expert,” because that sounded like a made-up thing but I wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, they probably wouldn’t be featuring a six-page spread of Trailertopia anytime soon.

  “I want you to meet Gerry. He’s such a gentleman. I mean, he just waltzes into a place like Thunderman’s and they all snap right to attention. I’m telling you, whatever he wants. They all act like their number one mission in life is to please him. I mean, seriously, I’ll bet one word from him would get any of them fired on the spot.”

  I wasn’t really sure if I was supposed to be impressed with that, so I just said, “Hmmm,” again.

  “The wedding is the day before Thanksgiving. Because we’re just both so thankful.”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” I said. “That sounds like a good plan.” What was she, fifteen?

  “Then we’re going to the Dallas Cowboys game. Gerry has a suite at Cowboy Stadium. He’s a big fan. Then we’re on to Aruba!” She squealed.

  “Gosh,” I said. So, Amarillo Hearth and Home, “lifestyle expert,” and “Aruba.” “Sounds fantastic.”

  “So I need you and Mother there, at the wedding. I need some people for my side, you know? Do you think Tony could come, too? Maybe bring some of his people?”

  “His people? Like…his family?”

  “
Yes. I mean, you know. I have you and Mother, and Gerry has this whole big slew of people. So I need some to balance it out a little more. Ask his mother. And he has what, seven or eight brothers and sisters? Surely some of them could come.”

  I made as noncommittal a sound as I possibly could. I was sure Tony would be happy to go with me. Or he’d go, whether he was happy to or not. But his mother — I doubted there was anyone Josephine Solis hated more than my mother. Mrs. Solis had forgiven me for trapping her son into a shotgun marriage when he was only seventeen (I’d helped prove Tony innocent of a murder charge last year, so she kind of had to). But she had no reason to forgive Mom and probably never would. She was certainly not going to agree to play an extra at Mom’s umpteenth wedding. I wasn’t even going to ask.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize what time it was. I have to go! Gerry is taking me out to for dinner, and I want to exfoliate first.

  I hung up and tossed the celery into the skillet with the olive oil and garlic salt. I tapped my phone. “Windy, find Amarillo Home and Hearth.”

  “Okay, sweetie, I’m huntin’ for it now.”

  I looked at Stump, who eyed the phone with suspicion.

  “Yep, it’s going to take some getting used to,” I told her.

  “I think this is what you won’t,” Windy said, which confused me until I realized she meant, “what you want.”

  Even on the small screen of the phone, the website looked pretty. A pumpkin orange banner ran across the top of the screen, with golden oak leaves and pine cones wrapped in a green checked ribbon in one corner. I clicked through past issues until I saw “Cozy and Chic? Yes, It Can Be Done. And Neely Bates Can Do It.”

  I scrolled through the text, picking up bits and pieces.

  “Neely’s first passion is baking.”

  “I can be a bit particular about my cookies, but I find this pursuit of perfection very relaxing. It’s hyper-focused, you know. Almost like a form of meditation. I studied all the best small ovens available and had one specially made for our plane.”

  “Die-hard Aggies, the Bateses travel to every Texas A&M football game in their private plane.”