Out of Eden. Beth Ciotta

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СКАЧАТЬ them three times max.”

      “Are you sure you want to give them up?”

      “Trust me. I’ve got loads of sensible shoes.”

      “Shoes, schmooze!” someone complained. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some chicken wings around here?”

      They turned their attention to the grumpy complainant, Max Grogan, the town’s retired fire chief, seventy-two and prickly as a porcupine. Armed with two bottles of beer each, he and his cronies—Jay Jarvis (of J.J.’s Pharmacy and Sundry), Ray Keystone (Keystone Barbershop) and Dick Wilson (the town mayor)—were engrossed in their biweekly game of cards.

      “Keep your pants on, Max!” Wanda shouted.

      “An image I can do without.” Faye shuddered. “Max’s dingy.”

      “You can tell you’ve got a five-year-old at home,” Wanda said with a grin. “Dingy. That’s cute, hon. Thanks for the shoes, Kylie, and Happy Birthday,” she added before leaving.

      “I wish.” Kylie downed Ashe’s alcoholic gift in two swallows, then slid aside the empty glass with a snort. “Didn’t taste stronger than the first two.”

      “Probably because your taste buds are numb.” Faye pursed her cherry-red lips. “Good thing I’m driving.”

      “Wash those hands before you handle my wings!” Max yelled when Wanda disappeared into the kitchen.

      “I wouldn’t mind seeing dingy’s Max,” Kylie said, tripping over her words. She pinched the end of her tongue. Also numb. Dang. “I mean Max’s dingy.”

      Her friend groaned, then leaned forward. “You have got to be kidding. I know you’ve been sexually deprived since the asshole split town, but you cannot be that desperate for a thrill.”

      “Actually, I am.” Although, it was spurred by lack of zest, not sex. She’d felt melancholy and hollow since Spenser’s phone call this morning. She wasn’t a stranger to disappointment, and usually she sucked it up and moved on, doing what she had to do, doing what was best for all involved even if it didn’t feel best for her. But today she hadn’t been able to wrangle the disappointment, and as the day crawled by, depression had given way to desperation and uncharacteristic behavior. She mentally kissed her nurturing, passive self goodbye. Time to take action. Time to shake up the life she was stuck with.

      “At least it would cause a sensation,” Kylie said, shocked at the vehemence in her tone. “Can you imagine the headlines?” She mimicked a newspaper barker, shouting her concocted news just as the song ended and the noise level dipped. “Max Grogan drops his pants in protest of tardy service!”

      “I ain’t flashing my willy just because you’re bored, Kylie McGraw.” Max grunted as he dealt a new hand. “Kids.”

      “Kids who don’t know when they’ve had enough,” said the mayor. “Even worse.”

      “Maybe you should switch to soda,” called Mr. Keystone.

      “Maybe you should mind your own beeswax,” said Kylie.

      J.J. tsked. “She’s usually so nice.”

      “Yeah, but tonight she’s fun.” Ashe approached Kylie with another cosmo and a smarmy grin. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

      Kylie dropped her head in her hands with a groan.

      “Go away,” Faye said. “And take that evil drink with you.”

      “Hey, I’m just trying to please the birthday girl. She said she wants a sensation.”

      Kylie banged her fists to the table and frowned up at the man. “I’m talking about something extraordinary, you thick-skulled bozo. People expect you to seduce me and they expect me to fall under your spell. Boone knows Max and gang will show up twice a week to play pinochle and they know they’ll get two-fer beers, kick-butt chicken wings and a comfortable room temperature of sixty-eight. Faye expects me to drink beer because I always drink beer. I expect Faye to whine about her summer guests because she always whines about her summer guests. The majority of Eden will watch Into the Wild Saturday night and gossip about Spenser’s adventures most of Sunday. The Bixley will never expand to a multiplex theater and storefronts on Main Street will always look as they did in 1955, because progress moves at a snail’s pace in Eden! Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens!” Kylie vented, voice slurred and shrill. “You can set your watch by this town. We are boring people!”

      “Ooo-kay.” Ashe backed away with the drink, his free hand raised in surrender.

      But Kylie wasn’t done. “I bet I know what you’ve been talking about,” she said to Max and friends. “Omertà. That’s all you ever talk about because you’re obsessed. Never mind the mob series is off the air and you’re just now catching up compliments of DVD. That’s typical. Out of step with fashion and the arts. Yup. That’s us! Behind the times. Boring and passé.”

      “I came in here for cards and beer,” shouted Max. “Not to be insulted!”

      “That does it,” Boone called from behind the bar. “You’re cut off, Kylie.”

      She jabbed a finger in his direction. “I knew you’d say that.”

      “Predictable,” Faye grumbled.

      “Exactly.”

      “But wise.” Looking harried, the normally unflappable woman rooted in her oversize purse and pulled out her Orchard House souvenir key chain, available at the front desk for the bargain price of $3.99. “I’m taking you home,” Faye snapped. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

      Fueled by years of frustration and three cosmopolitans, Kylie pushed out of the booth, her compact body trembling with Godzilla-like rage. “Well, get used to it. All of you! Because starting tomorrow there’s a new Kylie McGraw in town. I’m going to shake up paradise. Just you wait and see!” She made it halfway across the hardwood floor before her nylon footies slid out from under her and Kylie tumbled butt over heels.

      J.J. whistled low. “Wasn’t much of a wait.”

      Dazed, she squinted at the sea of faces spinning above her. “Stand still, you guys.”

      “We aren’t moving.” Faye stooped and inspected Kylie’s noggin. “How hard did you hit your head? Are you seeing double?”

      “Of course she’s seeing double,” Boone said. “She’s shit-faced.”

      Swearing, Faye tried to pull her friend to her feet, but Kylie’s arms and legs went all noodly. “I could use some help getting her in my van,” she said to the men.

      Ashe, the smug, blurry dog, rubbed his paws together and smiled. “I’ll do it.”

      “Touch her, Davis, and I’ll kick your ass.”

      It was a voice she hadn’t heard in a long time, but one she’d know anywhere and in any state of mind.

      Ashe knew it, too. “Just trying to help.”

      Knowing СКАЧАТЬ