Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue (8 page)

Read Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue Online

Authors: Dixie Cash

Tags: #Humorous Stories, #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Chick Lit, #Humorous Fiction, #Fiction, #Texas

“Oh, I’ll bet that got his attention.”

“It didn’t make him change his mind. That’s when I got the thigh hickey. I didn’t even know I had until we showered this morning.”

Debbie Sue continued sweeping, still avoiding looking Edwina in the face. She pushed her little mound of sand to the back door again, opened the door, swept the sand outside and tossed the broom outside behind it. She walked back toward Edwina, dusting her palms. “That’s the last time I sweep this damn floor with a broom. I’m buying an electric broom and I’m making a special trip to Odessa to do it.”

“Hurray!” Edwina pumped a fist. “That’s one for the girls. Now what?”

“Now, oh great one, just to satisfy you, I call this psychic or medium or whatever she is and get things moving. If I’m going to have to endure Buddy’s torturing me, I might as well make the most of it.”

“Torture. Hmm,” Edwina said. “Like I said, most of the women in—”

“Cut it out, Ed.” Debbie Sue moved behind the receptionist desk and placed her hand on the receiver. “Remind me again. Is El Paso one hour behind or one hour ahead?”

“Oh, hell,” Edwina grumbled, her brow knit. “You’d think after a lifetime I’d have that down pat. But I have to stop and think every single time. Mountain time is one hour ahead. No, wait, it’s an hour behind. It’s the way I taught my girls. Time goes
behind
the mountain.”

“So that means I have to wait an hour.”

Just then, before she could pick up the receiver, the phone warbled.

“Let the answering machine get it,” Edwina said. “We’re not open yet.”

Debbie Sue stared at the persistent phone. “And what if it’s opportunity calling?”

“I’ve always heard opportunity knocks.”

Sending her an arch look, Debbie Sue picked up the receiver. “Styling Station, this is Debbie Sue.”

For a few seconds, she heard only dead air, then a hesitant voice said, “Uh, Mrs. Overstreet, please?”

Debbie Sue’s mind did a split-second inventory of her bills. She wasn’t delinquent on any of them that she could recall. Once she had struggled to make ends meet, but these days, she had no trouble paying her bills. “This is Debbie Sue Overstreet.”

“Oh, Mrs. Overstreet. Hi.” The voice brightened noticeably. “This is Sophia Paredes from El Paso. We spoke last night?”

Debbie Sue recognized the Spanish accent at once. Sophia Paredes spoke perfect English, but her speech still had a Spanish lilt. “Why, hello. I was just thinking about calling you. And listen, please call me Debbie Sue.”

“Thank you, I will. I hope I’m not calling too early. Sometimes the change in time zones confuses people.”

“Oh, not me. I was just going to wait an hour and call you.”

Sophia laughed. “I’m an early riser. Even with us an hour behind, you’d have to call very early to wake me. I want to speak to you about coming to Odessa.”

“Super.”

“My car, uh,
our
car is old. It has a lot of miles. I’m thinking of taking the bus.”

“Airfares are cheap these days. You could fly into Midland, which is only thirty miles from Odessa.”

“There’s no flight from El Paso to Midland. I checked. Southwest flies to Midland eventually, but they have to go all the way to Dallas first, then loop back.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Debbie Sue said. “We’re only four hours from El Paso.”

“I know. But I don’t mind taking the bus. I checked the fares and it’s fifty-six dollars one way, directly to Odessa. Do you think your client would mind paying that?”

“Fifty-six dollars is really cheap for two people. You aren’t sending your grandmother alone, are you?”

“Oh, uh, my goodness, what was I thinking?” Sophia laughed. “That’s for
one
person. Yes, it would be double that.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind that. It’s probably cheaper than gas for the car with the prices being what they are. But wouldn’t a bus ride be hard on your grandmother? They might not make stops when she needs them. She might need to get off the bus and move around.”

“You’d be surprised how resilient she is. We’re thinking
we could leave today around noon and be there about five o’clock, your time. Can someone meet us or should I rent a car? I know there’s an Enterprise rental across the street from the bus station.”

“There is? You’ve been there before?”

“No, never.”

The hair stood up on the back of Debbie Sue’s neck. “Then how do you know about it?”

“Uh…my grandmother knows. She knows many things. If you’ll give me the address for the hotel where we’ll be staying, we’ll call you from there.”

This was certainly a take-charge person. Debbie Sue was impressed. Weak, helpless women had a tendency to bring out the worst in her. She liked Sophia Paredes immediately. “Hey, that would be great. We don’t finish up in the shop today until almost five. Call here or call the cell number I gave you.”

“Okay. I will talk to you later.”

“Sure thing,” Debbie Sue replied.

“Who was that?” Edwina asked as Debbie Sue hung up.

“That was the woman in El Paso’s granddaughter, Sophia. She’s bringing her grandmother today. They’ll be in Odessa around five. You know, I really like her.”

“I wonder if she could be the same little girl I played checkers with. She would be grown by now. Damn, I feel old.”

“Well, you’re not old,” Debbie Sue said, her mood elevated. “But you
are
booked solid today, so you better get your young ass in gear.”

“Oh, it’s in gear,” Edwina said. “In fact, if it gets any more in gear I’m liable to throw a rod.”

“I’m not
even
touching that one,” Debbie Sue said. “Unlock the door. The day awaits.”

 

Sophia returned the phone to its cradle and lifted her suitcase to the bed. She didn’t know how much to pack, because she didn’t know how long she would be gone. She’d seen her grandmother involved in cases from as little as a few hours to all the way up to a week or more.

Better to take too much than too little
, a soft voice in her head interjected.

“That’s true,” Sophia replied.

For the next twenty minutes she busied herself packing. Speaking again to the empty room, she said, “I think I’ll stop at the store and get the latest
Cosmopolitan
to read on the trip.”

Best to read the Holy Bible
, the voice replied.

T
he Styling Station’s main wall clock, a freebie from Grissom Farm Equipment in Odessa, was the size of a big skillet. A cartoon image of a green tractor rode atop the green hour hand and a bale of hay ticked off the minutes. Over the course of a few hours, Debbie Sue and Edwina continued working side by side and not talking about the visitors coming in from the west at 5
P.M
. Debbie Sue must have looked at that bale of hay passing up that tractor a hundred times. She couldn’t help but notice that Edwina was as interested in the clock as she was.

Debbie Sue had always been excited about the cases the Domestic Equalizers took on, but this one had a totally different appeal from their previous adventures. She had absolutely no logical, plausible explanation for the goings-on at
Justin’s house or the message that had appeared on his refrigerator door. Though she held a huge bit of skepticism about the supernatural, she might—emphasis on
might
—consider it if surveillance revealed no clues. And to appease Edwina.

Debbie Sue had watched tales of the paranormal on TV. She had even caught a couple of Montel Williams shows when guest Sylvia Browne had given psychic readings to a hushed audience. When it came to the afterlife and those who claimed to communicate with the ones who had passed over, she had to admit she was intrigued and was willing to be open-minded.

With the last person paid and out the door and less than an hour left to keep the doors open, Jolene Wiley, great-granddaughter of their favorite octogenarian, Maudeen Wiley, bounded in. Jolene had just completed her senior year at Salt Lick High. With her flaming-red hair and bubbly personality, she literally lit up the room.

“Hey, Mrs. Overstreet. Mrs. Martin.”

“Hey, yourself,” Edwina said, placing her hand on her hip and giving the girl a playful once-over. “Just look at you. What are you doing with yourself now that school’s out? Chasing boys or being chased by boys?”

The teenager laughed. “Neither one. I don’t have time.” She began to tick off on her fingers. “Between working the morning shift at Hogg’s, getting ready to go to college in the fall, babysitting Karla Kennedy’s kids in the evening and running errands for Mama and Great Gram, I don’t have time for boys.”

“Lord-a-mercy,” Edwina said, “what has gone wrong with
this country? You’re only young once, honey-child. Believe me, you’ll find in your lifetime there’s more need for work than play. Use that youth before you lose it is what I say.”

Debbie Sue shook her head and gave Jolene a wink, sensing that Edwina was fired up and on the verge of one of her speeches.

“The price of gasoline is high, groceries are high, utilities are high and sex drives are low,” Edwina said. “We’re all going to hell in a handbasket.”

“You sound just like Great Gram,” Jolene said, giggling.

“Speaking of that dear little lady,” Debbie Sue said, “how’s she doing?”

“That’s why I’m here. She’s in the car out front.” The teenager motioned to the front parking lot of the salon. “She wanted me to ask if you’d come out and talk to her outside. She wants to ask you something.”

Alarms went off in Debbie Sue’s head. She loved Maudeen Wiley like the grandmother she had never known. Was she ill? Had time finally taken such a toll on her frail body that she wasn’t able to even leave the car?

“Is she okay?” Edwina asked.

“She’s fine. She’s just too embarrassed to come inside is all.”

Debbie Sue didn’t know which was more disturbing—her first thought that Maudeen was ill or the news that she was embarrassed. As far as Debbie Sue was concerned, either one was reason for worry.

Leaving Ed to start the end-of-the-day cleanup, Debbie Sue walked out to the parking lot. She could see a diminu
tive figure outlined against the high-back passenger seat, her head barely visible over the dashboard.

As Debbie Sue opened the door, the tiny woman turned toward her and gave her the usual big smile. “Why, hello, honey. Thanks for coming out to the car.”

Maudeen was wearing a pair of huge black sunglasses with lenses so dark her eyes couldn’t be seen, the type an eye doctor had once given Debbie Sue’s mother after her eyes had been dilated for an exam. Debbie Sue was puzzled. Surely this wasn’t cause for embarrassment by a woman who wasn’t bothered by an opinion from one single individual other than herself.

Taking Maudeen’s birdlike hand in her own, Debbie Sue squatted beside the open door. “What in the world is wrong, Maudeen? Jolene said you didn’t want to come in. Are you all right? You know how much I worry about you.”

“That’s sweet of you, honey. It really is. But I’m fine, if doing something stupid is being fine.”

“Stupid? What in the world are you talking about? I’ve never heard anyone call you stupid.”

“Well, I have been this time, honey.” Maudeen freed her hand from Debbie Sue’s and removed her sunglasses. “Who else but a stupid old woman would do this to herself?”

At first glance, half an inch above Maudeen’s eyebrows, a couple of fuzzy black caterpillars appeared to be crawling across her wrinkled forehead. Debbie Sue gasped. She reached to touch, but drew her hand back. “What
is
that?”

“I got to looking in the mirror, honey,” Maudeen said.
“And that right there isn’t a smart thing to do at my age. I noticed my eyebrows were nearly plumb gray. They had practically disappeared. I decided they needed dyeing.”

“Sweetheart,” Debbie Sue said gently, “me or Ed would have been happy to do that for you. Why didn’t you come see us?”

“It was one of those Saturday night spur-of-the-moment things, honey. My life’s pretty much been ruled by Saturday night spur-of-the-moment things, if you get my drift.”

Debbie Sue got it. She nodded. The only person who had always enjoyed her sex life more than Edwina Perkins-Martin had to be Maudeen Wiley. “You tried to dye them yourself?”

“Well, that was the plan, honey, but I never got that far.”

“But—”

“I was using a pen to practice the shape I was going to make ’em. That’s why they’re perched above my own eyebrows. But when I started practicing, I didn’t know I was using a laundry marker.”

“Uh-oh. That’s permanent,” Debbie Sue said.

“When I realized what I’d done, I tried to wipe it off.”

“And that’s how you got the fuzzy look?” Debbie Sue looked at the ground, biting her lip and not wanting to make Maudeen feel worse by laughing.

“Oh, go ahead and laugh,” Maudeen said. She began to chuckle and was soon into a breath-grabbing laugh. Debbie Sue joined her.

Wiping a tear from her eye, Maudeen said, “At my age, honey, you never know if you’re going to wake up in the
morning. And here I’ve made such a mess of myself I might have to meet my maker with a just-been-goosed-from-behind look on my face.”

Debbie Sue went from squatting to sitting on the ground, legs extended, laughing harder. Finally, she wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve. “Speaking of meeting your maker, Maudeen, do you believe in ghosts?”

“Heavens, yes. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’re surprised by very little. Why, honey, I could tell you stories that would rearrange your DNA.”

Debbie Sue stretched her hand out to her friend. “Come on inside and tell me more. We have some lotion that helps take hair dye stains off our hands. It doesn’t work one hundred percent, but we can try it on your, uh, eyebrows.”

“That’s okay. It doesn’t have to be a hundred percent. If you just get a little of this black off, I can spackle my face up good enough with some pancake makeup. And while we’re at it, maybe you could go ahead and dye my real eyebrows. Give me a professional job.”

Debbie Sue smiled and took Maudeen’s hand again. “We can do that.” She assisted Maudeen from the car and walked her into the salon.

“Jolene,” Maudeen called out from the shop’s front doorway. “Honey, you can run on and do what you need to get done. Debbie Sue and Edwina are going to work their magic on me.” The octogenarian glanced up at Debbie Sue and patted her arm. “Aren’t you, girls?”

Edwina walked over to them. “You bet we are,” she shouted.

Debbie Sue cringed. Edwina always yelled when speaking to Maudeen, but as far as Debbie Sue knew, nothing was wrong with Maudeen’s hearing.

“Why you got them big-ass black sunglasses on, hon?” Edwina yelled as she walked the elderly woman across the room and seated her in Debbie Sue’s hydraulic chair. “You look like you’re wearing manhole covers.”

Maudeen eased the sunglasses from her face and looked up at Edwina.

Edwina slapped her own cheek with her fingers. “Great day in the morning!”

“Where’s that lotion that takes hair dye off our hands?” Debbie Sue said. “It might work on her face.”

“In the storeroom. I think that stuff would remove a tattoo if we let it set long enough.” Edwina leaned down closer to Maudeen’s ear. “I said it’s in the storeroom,” she shouted.

Debbie Sue rolled her eyes. “Ed, would you please get it for us?”

Edwina disappeared behind the floral curtain that covered the storage-room doorway. Maudeen looked at Debbie Sue in the mirror. “Why does Edwina insist on yelling at me? Does she have a hearing problem?”

Debbie Sue chuckled. “What she has is a comprehension problem. She can’t comprehend that aging and being hard of hearing don’t necessarily go hand in hand.”

“Why did you ask me about ghosts?” Maudeen said, smoothing the nylon cape that Debbie Sue had placed around her small neck. “Have you got a stubborn dearly departed who’s refusing to move on?”

“Not me. It’s a client. So you believe there really are ghosts?”

“Honey, when you’ve lived as long as I have, you get to a place where you’ve done things you swore you wouldn’t, and you believe in things you didn’t think existed. It’s one of the perks of old age.”

“I guess,” Debbie Sue replied.

“Have you called in a professional? You know, someone to speak to the spirits for you? You need to get a professional, honey. Don’t try to do it on your own. Spirits make sport of watching mortals make fools of themselves. Guess they’ve got little else to do.”

Edwina returned from the storeroom and handed a bottle of white lotion to Debbie Sue. “We called a woman in El Paso. Her name’s Isabella—”

“Not Izzy Paredes,” Maudeen said with a start.

Debbie Sue and Edwina looked at each other, mouths agape.


You know
Isabella Paredes?” Debbie Sue asked.

“I lived in El Paso for four years. During the big war, my first husband, Homer, was in the army. He was stationed at Fort Bliss. Everybody knew Izzy Paredes. Back in those days, she was a celebrity.”

“People called her Izzy?” Edwina asked.

“Just her good friends,” Maudeen replied.

“You were good friends with Isabella Paredes?” Debbie Sue asked, incredulous.

“I’d like to think so. At any rate, she was sure a good friend to me. She helped me tell Homer good-bye.”

Debbie Sue felt a sting behind her eyes. She glanced over at Edwina, whose chin had a quiver to it. “You mean Homer went into the light?” Debbie Sue asked softly.

“As fast as he could, honey,” Maudeen said.

“What did Isabella Paredes do to help?” Edwina asked.

“She loaned me her pickup.”

“What?” Debbie Sue and Edwina chorused.

“To move after Homer met a stripper from Vegas and went AWOL. She loaned me her pickup. Even helped me carry the heavy stuff.”

Debbie Sue stomped her foot. “Dammit, Maudeen, I thought you meant he died.”

“Oh, he did, eventually. But not before he spent thirty years with the meanest woman that ever drew a breath. That’s the sort of thing that kind of compensates an old woman for outliving everybody. You get to see them that screwed you over get their just rewards.”

A faraway look came into Maudeen’s eyes and she chuckled. “The day I found out what Homer done, me and Izzy sat at her kitchen table and killed a bottle of tequila. She held my hand while I cried. Yes, honey, that crazy Izzy was a good friend to me. I can’t wait to see her.

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