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Past Nan and her slow-moving scooter, I hear my sandals smack against my heels as I haul ass toward the three empty chairs. The instant I reach them, I toss my mom’s beach bag down on the first one, my backpack onto the second, and proceed to plop my ass down on the third one.
A few minutes later, my mom and Sal reach our new spot just as Nan comes to a halting stop on her little scooter.
“Those were mine.” The scooter lady scowls toward me, pointing her index finger in my direction. “I was heading this way and—”
“And nothing, Nan,” my mom snaps. “These chairs are ours for the day. As you can see, my daughter claimed them.”
“No, they’re not!” Nan flips her shit. “They’re mine! Betty and I always sit here!”
“I’m sorry to break the news to you, hun.” My mom just shrugs and slips off her sandals. “But you’re not sitting here today.”
“Mom, maybe we should—” I start to say, but I’m instantly cut off by Sal.
“Just let it go, darlin’,” he whispers toward me. “Nan is always pulling shit like this.”
“Pulling shit like this?” I whisper back on a surprised laugh. “I mean, she’s in a fucking scooter, Sal. Don’t you think we should throw the white flag and let her have the seats?”
Sal just shakes his head, sits down in the lounger beside mine, and slips off his black sunglasses like he’s settling in for a show. Any second now, I think he might pull a bag of fucking popcorn out of my mom’s beach bag and start munching.
“Sal, I really think we should just—” I start to whisper toward him, but he cuts me off…again.
“Trust me, Carly. Your mom and this woman butt heads worse than donkeys. Don’t let that scooter fool you. Nan is one of the biggest shit-stirrers in Sunny Creek. She’s almost as bad as that neurotic broad Betty.”
“Betty?” I question quietly. “Do you mean Betty Matthews? The lady who goes nutso over trash cans?”
“Yep. That’s the one.” An amused grin makes his lips rise at the corners as he watches my mother and Nan continue to bicker back and forth. “So, just trust me, it’s best to stay out of it.”
Suddenly, Sal’s reasoning is sounding incredibly acceptable.
It’s not that I think my mom is in the right, but knowing that Nan is besties with Betty, well, it doesn’t exactly make me want to come to her defense, you know?
Truth be told, I’m kind of torn right now…
“Oh hey, Nan, if you don’t mind, can you take your scooter away from the pool area? You know, since they’re illegal to have here. It’s interesting how your ride-or-die Betty can let your scooter bullshit fly, but when my daughter leaves the trash can out overnight, she damn near fights her in my driveway.”
“You know I need my scooter because of my knee!” Nan snaps back. “I hurt it playing tennis!”
My mother rolls her eyes. “If by tennis, you mean video poker at the clubhouse, then okay, whatever you say, Nan.”
“I play tennis!” Nan persists. “All the time! You’re just too busy being a floozy on the internets to notice what anyone else is doing.”
“You know what I think about you, your fake knee injury, and your lazy ass using every excuse to ride around on that stupid scooter?” my mother spits. “This.” And with that, she lifts her middle finger high in the air and holds it out toward Nan.
Uh oh…
“That’s it! I’m going to kick your ass, Stella!” Nan shouts, and my eyes go wide in surprise.
But my mom? Well, she just laughs. “Bring it,” she says with a challenging raise of her eyebrow. “Get off that scooter and come at me, bro!”
Oh, God help us all.
“Wait…hold up!” Instantly, I’m on my feet before Nan can get her ass out of the seat. “Let’s all just try to relax for a minute.”
“Relax?” Nan retorts, quickly moving her BluBlocker-covered face to me. “I’ll kick your ass too, you little floozy!”
“Huh?” I question in utter confusion. “Wait…why am I a floozy?”
“Because you don’t even live here!”
Hold up. Am I living a real-life version of Mean Girls: Geriatric Edition?
Because it feels like, any second, Regina George is going to emerge.
“Oh, give it up,” my mom chimes in on a laugh. “Move along before you say something I’m going to make you regret.”
Sal chuckles. “Nan, I think it’s time for you to find another place to sit, don’t you?”
“Oh, fuck off, Sal!” Nan snaps back, and it only draws more chuckles from his throat.
Which just makes Nan madder. A vein bulges beneath the wrinkles of her forehead, and I swear, any second, steam might start shooting straight from her ears.
Tensions are high as fuck at the Sunny Creek pool, and I search around the perimeter, scrambling to find another row of empty chairs before Nan tries to get off her scooter and fight my mom. For all I know, these two crazy bitches have brass knuckles stored right beside the Ziploc baggies of butterscotch and peppermint candies in their pool bags.
