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Lydia steps out onto the porch, mouth open like she’s going to speak, but claps her jaw shut when she sees me taking the cupcakes from Bobby Jo.
The red-iced cupcakes with a white tampon design on top.
Because it’s Bobby Jo.
Bobby Jo is in her early to mid-fifties, lives with nine cats, and knows everything about your day-to-day life. I have no idea where her money comes from, because she’s always home, staring out the window, taking notes of other peoples’ lives.
“You must be Lydia,” Bobby Jo says, smiling over at the person in question.
No. I didn’t tell her Lydia’s name. I knew I wouldn’t have to.
“Yes,” Lydia says, her brow scrunched in confusion over the weird freaking cupcakes.
“Oh! That’s great. Soon your menses will be synced up, and I can bring you a double tray of cupcakes.”
My mouth tries to stay fixed in a neutral position when Lydia gapes at Bobby Jo like she’s lost her mind. I guess that means it’s really not normal.
“We’re about to head to lunch,” Lydia says, smiling tightly like she’s terrified of the crazy lady beside me.
“Oh! I’d love to!” Bobby Jo says excitedly.
Lydia looks confused, and Bobby Jo pushes by us to enter our house. I shrug when Lydia gives me a what-the-fuck look. I’m used to it, and Bobby Jo has no friends. Sort of like me.
And really, the chocolate cupcakes underneath that homemade red icing are freaking badass when that chocolate craving hits.
Kasha sits in my living room with…some guy. The guy smiles over at me, and Kasha tilts her head, watching Bobby Jo.
Bobby Jo struts through my house, her purse perched on her arm like always, but poked out like she’s preparing to power walk at any moment, should the need arise. Her eyes land on Kasha’s random guy friend.
“Aren’t you a looker,” Bobby Jo says, smoothing down one wayward strand of hair that pokes out of her crazy high bun, all while winking at him. I think she licks her lips. Strike that, she does lick her lips repeatedly.
He shifts in his seat, and Kasha battles a grin while she introduces him. “This is Emitt.”
“I like a man with a strong name like Emitt,” Bobby Jo says as she juts a hip out, showing off a little leg in that two-inch slit on her flowery skirt that stops at her knee.
Did I mention she’s wearing a shirt that reads “Free Pussy” with a bundle of kittens under it, and then in smaller writing, it reads, “Adopt A Stray Today.”
“So…where to?” I ask Kasha, mostly to help out Emitt, since his lips are moving, but no words are coming out.
“There’s a place just down the road from here. Thought we’d walk,” she tells us as she stands.
“We need to hurry then, because I have to get back to school,” Lydia tells her.
“You go to school?” Emitt asks.
“She teaches,” Bobby Jo announces. “Kids mostly, but some high schoolers too.”
Lydia jerks her head toward the strange, all-knowing lady.
“Who are you?” Kasha asks.
“Bobby Jo,” I explain, feeling rude for not introducing her sooner.
“People call me BJ,” Bobby Jo adds, winking at Emitt. “And not just because it’s my initials.”
“My name actually means ‘blowjob’ in the urban dictionary,” Kasha deadpans. She’s the only person who is not struggling to keep a straight face as poor Emitt looks like he’s ready to bail.
“Okay. Let’s roll,” Emitt says quickly.
Lydia chokes back a laugh when he darts by Bobby Jo and hurries out the door like he’s trying to escape her clutches.
“What’s with the bionic arm?” Bobby Jo asks Kasha, who is wearing Jill—her robotic arm.
Kasha holds it up as we all walk out. Lydia is the one to lock up behind us.
“It’s a prototype mostly. Some others are out there now. But I lost my arm a while back, and this was the first functioning prosthetic on the market.”
“Or malfunctioning, depending on what day you ask,” Lydia interjects with a sardonic grin.
Emitt stays in front of us a good little stretch, and Bobby Jo quizzes Kasha on her arm and her limitations. She’s invasive, and Kasha doesn’t seem to mind. Bobby Jo then informs us of the names of her nine cats and how one is a whore she hasn’t gotten spayed yet, because she got pregnant the second day she had her.
By the time we get to the restaurant, Kasha is getting Bobby Jo’s number. Maybe she’s not weird.
“Surprise!” I hear someone shout, and I look over as Lydia squeals and dives into a wide-spread set of arms.
Henley, the third leg of their dynamic trio, hugs Lydia back as they bounce together. Kasha smiles and giggles lightly, apparently expecting to see her here since she’s not squealing too.
I’ve never squealed to see a friend.
“What are you doing here?” Lydia demands as we all walk farther in to where Emitt is already sitting at a large, round table.
