Page 21 of Liquids

“Rig’s mom. She took up with another man after Jeremiah died and persuaded him to buy the land back. She never forgave Jeremiah for gambling it all away and getting himself murdered. But there’s no love lost between the boys and their stepfather. Although I shouldn’t say stepfather: She never married him.”

She’s stripped off now and I put my hand under her arm as she steps into the water. Her skin is soft and wrinkled in my hand, fragile like I’m holding bone china, and my throat closes. I swallow it down and grab the shower cap from the wall, popping it over her gray curls. “That warm enough, Mrs. M?” I ask as I stick my hand into the spray.

“Lovely, dear,” she says as I pass her the soap. “I never think I want a wash, but I’m always glad when I’ve done it. It’s a bit like sex that way.”

I catch my grin in the mirror over the sink and try to tamp it down. “Do you want me to hold on to you?” I say.

“No dear, I’m fine.”

I pull the curtain across. “You said boys? Rig has brothers?”

“Three sons,” Marge says through the curtain. “A lot of bad blood there.”

“Really? What about?” This is riveting.

“No idea, but they were always fighting. None of them had anything good to say about each other. Both his brothers left here as soon as they could. Rig’s the only one that comes back to help his ma.”

I peer around the curtain at her, and her eyes twinkle at me from under her shower cap. “He’s got a bit of a reputation in town,” she says.

I smile at her as she turns the soap over in her old, gnarled hands. “I’ll share my information if you share yours,” I say, still smiling.

Her wrinkled face beams. “Word has it that he’s very popular with the ladies, for specific reasons,” she whispers.

“And what would that be?”

For the first time since I’ve known her, Marge’s cheeks go pink. “I’ve heard he does particular things in the bedroom, if you get my drift.”

I lean forward, whispering, “I’ve heard that, too.” Not that I’ve seen much evidence of his use of liquids so far.

“Ooo, Lordy!” Marge says and flaps a soapy hand over her face like she’s fanning herself. I giggle. I could complain about this job and how they exploit staff and pay me for shit, but is it that bad? These old ladies are a hoot.

“Not a man to stick with a woman,” she adds as she runs the soap down her arms and across her chest, and a sharp spasm knifes through my gut. Damn my traitorous stomach. I’ve only spent two nights with him.

“Why’s that?”

“He never has. And why would he? All the ladies just come running.” She tries to snap her fingers and wobbles on her legs for a moment, so I put my hand under her elbow again.

He never has? He said he was in a relationship for a couple of years.

“A guy like that …” She shakes her head, scrubbing the soap under her arms.

“He’s not what I’d describe as a typical ladies’ man, though,” I say.

Marge leans forward. “He’s been through hundreds of women, or so I’m told.”

I laugh even as my stomach does another flip. “Is someone counting?”

Marge gives me a crooked grin and taps her nose. “We old gals know everything. Nothing better to do with our time.”

I pull down the showerhead and use it to wash the last bits of foam off her.

“I heard he was in a longer relationship once,” I say, swallowing.

“Oh! I forgot about that. That’d be Sadie. Now there’s a girl who likes to lead a man around by his hoo-ha. From what Agnes tells me, it’s been on and off for years. More on from Sadie’s point of view if you know what I mean.”

On and off for years? Ugh.

“I don’t think, given what happened with his family, that he trusts people much,” Marge adds.