Madam Of The House. Donna Birdsell

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Grace nodded.

      “How are you getting home?”

      “I’ll call a cab.”

      “Okay.” Cecilia winked at the guy. “Nice to meet you.”

      “Likewise,” he said. Rose Frost lipstick smeared his lips.

      Cecilia felt a flash of envy for her friend. She still remembered that feeling—that out-of-body high—that always accompanied brand-new kisses.

      Cecilia returned to the table and waved to Grace. She made a fist and held it to her cheek like a telephone receiver, mouthing the words, “Call me.”

      Then she and Dannie slung their arms around Roseanna and dragged her through the crowd toward the door.

      “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s try to get you home before you lose your cookies.”

      A DULL PAIN throbbed behind Cecilia’s eyes as she brewed a pot of coffee the following morning. Her breath smelled like a burned-out distillery, and her fingertips were yellow from nicotine.

      She had to stop drinking. She had to stop smoking. Today. Now.

      She took the pack of cigarettes from her handbag and emptied them into the sink, firing up the garbage disposal. The sound bore into her brain like a jackhammer.

      Oh, man. This might not be the best day to quit smoking.

      Her malaise eased a bit when she realized that in just a few hours she’d be on her way to pick up Brian at the Catalina School.

      She hummed “Old Time Rock and Roll” as she flipped through a shoe catalog, planning her afternoon with her son until an annoying beeping sound coming from the street disturbed her thoughts.

      It sounded like a trash truck, but it wasn’t trash day.

      Coffee mug in hand, she wandered through the dining room and into the formal living room, to the bowed window overlooking the driveway. A green-and-yellow truck was backing into the drive. Sunlight glinted off the shiny silver flat bed, which seemed to be falling off the truck.

      No, it wasn’t falling. It was tilting.

      She squinted, unable to see too clearly without her contact lenses. What…?

      “Shit!” She bolted for the front door, spilling coffee down the front of her robe and onto the white wool carpet.

      She reached the steps that led down to the drive just as a large man with an obscene amount of butt-crack showing hooked the rear axle of her Cayenne to a winch.

      “Hey!” she shouted. “What are you doing?”

      He stood up. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

      “It looks like you’re trying to steal my car.”

      He guffawed. “That’s a good one.”

      “No, really. What are you doing?”

      The guy grinned. “I’m repossessing your vehicle.”

      “What!”

      “Look.” He waddled over and handed her a clipboard with a blue form containing her name and address, a description of the Cayenne, the VIN number and the license plate number.

      “I don’t understand,” she said.

      He spit a stream of tobacco juice onto the lawn. “You ain’t made your payments, lady. I’m taking the car.”

      “Oh, no. No no no.” She read the name in the blue oval above his shirt pocket. “Ed, you can’t take my car. I need my car.”

      “Sorry. I guess you shoulda thought about that when you weren’t writing those checks.” He walked to the back of the truck and threw a lever. The Cayenne slowly began to move up onto the tilted flatbed.

      “Stop! You’re not listening to me. I—”

      Oh, God. What was she going to do?

      “I have an emergency. I’m supposed to donate a kidney this afternoon.”

      Ed snorted. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

      “I’m delivering toys for underprivileged children?”

      Ed shook his head.

      She exhaled through pursed lips. “Hang on, please. Wait here one minute.”

      She ran into the house and found her purse, digging out her wallet. Damn it! Empty!

      She’d given that waiter every penny she had for the lap dance.

      She ran for the door, stopping briefly at the hall mirror to smooth down her sleep-rumpled hair. Discarding her coffee-stained robe, she ran back outside in nothing but her baby doll pajamas.

      Ed’s eyes bugged.

      “Listen,” she said, “I’m begging you. You can’t take my car.”

      Ed’s eyes gravitated to her chest, as if they were magnets and her breasts were little refrigerators.

      “If I had any money I’d give it to you, I swear. But I spent it all on a lap dance last night.”

      She could see Ed working the image through his head, and she realized it was probably a much different scenario than the one that had actually occurred.

      She wasn’t about to bust his bubble.

      Tiny beads of sweat formed on Ed’s upper lip. He shook his head. “I can’t. I have a repo contract with the bank.”

      “It was a great lap dance,” she said, pooching out her lower lip and thrusting a hip toward him.

      “Lady—”

      “Please, Ed.” She reached out and touched the collar of his blue work shirt lightly. Beseechingly. “I’m having a really, really bad week.”

      Dear God, I’ll see you in confession on Sunday. I swear. Until then, just one more little favor?

      Ed’s face softened. Was it possible he’d been influenced by the Supreme Being? Or was he just hypnotized by her breasts?

      “I promise I’ll take care of this next week,” she said in a whispery voice.

      Ed shook his head, but ripped the work order off the clipboard. “I guess I could misplace the paperwork for a little while. But if the bank doesn’t cancel the order, I’ll be back.”

      “Of course. Oh, wow. Thank you so much.”

      “Right.”

      He bent down to unhook the winch, giving Cecilia an eyeful of that special cleavage only overweight service men seemed to possess.

      That СКАЧАТЬ