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“Yes, absolutely,” he gasped out. He didn’t really have an opinion either way, but the conversation had him staring at Birdie’s lap and pondering her follicle status.
Just great.
Now all he could fixate on was slipping his hand underneath her panties to see if he touched bare skin.
Birdie added, “So, if I were you, and losing my… hair, you know, down there, I’d just shave off what’s left. Assuming there is any, of course.”
Pinkie, for the first time during this entire conversation, sat back in her folding metal chair and stared Birdie down, while narrowing her eyes.
Lucas’s entire body jerked as he felt Birdie’s hand relatch on to his leg in what had to have been pure fear. Unfortunately, he was dealing with his own issues below the belt and with her hand so close to said issue, he brought his fists to his mouth to gather himself.
Granny panties, false teeth, old lady hoohaws…
“Are you saying, by not having hoochie hair, the Pinkie Posse is … as my great grand-daughter would say… trending?”
Lucas was torn. Torn between being irrevocably embarrassed by such a feminine-hygiene-related discussion and sitting on the edge of the seat of the folding metal chair, waiting to hear how it ended, sporting a formidable erection and trying to avoid envisioning the lap to his left.
“I guess I am.”
Pinkie slammed her palm on the table, causing the entire room to go silent, including the British-speaking caller at the front of the room.
As if unsure if there were drama to witness or a celebration, they all awaited Pinkie’s next move.
“Please,” Pinkie said with a dramatic wave of her hand. “Carry on.”
Everyone resumed the game, as Jean Ann called out another combination.
Lowering her voice, she leaned over her cards and said, “It’s settled. You will help me and my friends do the social TikTak things that everyone is doing.”
To Lucas’s utter surprise, Birdie straightened her back and said with an impressive amount of calculation, “If I do this, what’s in it for me?”
Lucas was so proud of her, knowing how Pinkie would respect her hutzpah, he wanted to grab her and kiss her. He held back as he watched Pinkie’s penciled eyebrows slam up and into her hairline. “Why, I’m going to help you to restore your reputation in the town where your daughter will be spending quite a bit of time in the foreseeable future.”
Birdie gave the older woman a small smile and outstretched her hand. “Deal,” Birdie agreed. And to the entire room’s gaping attention, the irascible Ms. Pinkie reciprocated by shaking it.
* * *
Birdie triedto determine where Lucas was taking her, but by the time they had left the Community Center it was dark and they had passed the last illuminated streetlight, giving the area a slasher-movie vibe.
Resting her elbow on the base of the window, she tapped her lips in contemplation. “So, is this where you finally get to fulfill your lifelong dream of dragging me to a dark alley and murdering me?”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s quite the vivid imagination, and yet nothing I haven’t considered. That said, I’m the town’s mayor. I don’t think first-degree murder and jail time would be a good look so close to re-election.”
He drove his vintage truck in front of, what looked to be, an abandoned gas station.
An old-time gas station that she recognized and brought a faint smile to her face.
One corner of the building was made of glass panels. The bottom panels starting out small and then enlarging as the glass expanded to a V toward the slanted roof that came to a point at the front. Giving the corner of the facade a rather juxtaposedJetsonsfeel, despite being retro, in comparison to the rest of the building which was in the form of a concrete box.
“We’ll have more privacy here,” Lucas said, as Birdie watched his hands deftly move the gearshift into Park and then settle back into his seat. He turned his body slightly, elevating his leg by placing it on the rubberized hump of the floorboard gearshift, his hand resting on his thigh.
She had always loved his hands. They were so large and capable. Had often fantasized about them sliding around her thigh, similar to how they did a football, with intense deliberation.
He interrupted her thoughts, “You said you had something you needed to talk to me about. It’s better to talk here than the Community Center or the diner downtown where a private conversation might as well be an urban legend. Or my house for that matter, as Mia’s there hanging out with the Chief. I’m assuming this is about her.”
There was no way in hell Birdie could stay in this truck with him so close to her and think straight. So much so that she could smell the soap he’d used when he’d showered, reminding her of bay rum and the saltiness of the ocean.
“This is about Mia, but first,” she said, opening her door and jumping out of the truck with nervous energy and heightened hormones. “I gotta check this place out. Frank Folsom owns it, right?”
