The Wager

Petunia.

From the pinched look on her face, Jake could tell it hadn’t been a good meeting. Petunia’s oversized pink cardigan was wrapped around a turtleneck top, even though it was summertime. Nude-colored tights peaked out from beneath a long jeans skirt. The outfit was complete with orthopedic shoes.

“Oh, Jake!” Petunia giggled. “I’ve missed my boy!”

He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. “Aunt Petunia, you don’t look a day over fifty.”

“Oh you.” She swatted him with her hand.

Her white hair was pulled in a knot at the top of her head; her overly large glasses slid off her nose. She pushed them up and put her hands on her hips. “She’s not dying, by the way.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Jake looked back at the car, where Grandma had just finished reapplying her lipstick and smacked her lips together.

“She didn’t have a car.” Petunia looked past him. “The rest of the gang ran out to do wedding errands, leaving just me and Nadine to our lonesome.”

“Any blood I have to clean up?” Jake looked behind her into the house. “Or broken dishes? Anything?”

“Of course not.” Petunia sniffled. “I was merely having a conversation with Nadine about her loud outfit.”

“But she’s wearing white.” Jake scratched his head, confused. “Don’t you like white?”

“It’s not the color, dear.” She pointed. “That woman is wearing red spiked heels, and when she showed them to me, do you know what I saw?”

“What?”

“A tattoo!” Petunia wailed and then crossed her heart and pulled out her prayer beads.

“It’s probably fake.” Jake lied. Right; Grandma had probably gotten the tattoo just to piss off her sister.

“It’s not! I asked!” Petunia stuffed her beads back into her shirt and sighed. “I just don’t want her to go to hell. Is that too much to ask?”

“Tattoos don’t send people to hell.”

“You’re right.” Petunia straightened. “God does, and the minute he sees that tattoo all bets are off!” With a huff she turned and walked back into the house.

Women. Rubbing the back of his neck, Jake walked up to the car and knocked on the window. Grandma lowered it but refused to make eye contact. Just pouted and looked straight ahead.

“Well, go on now.” She licked her lips. “Sass me.”

“Grandma, I’m not going to sass you,” Jake said, flabbergasted. “But why can’t you just try to get along?”

“I wore white!” She pointed her finger in the direction of the house. “And that, that woman, said I was an abomination!”

“Right. So you probably should have hid the tattoo.”

“Mr. Casbon got me that tattoo in Hawaii last winter. It was a gift. I can’t just say no to a gift.”

“Mr. Casbon?” Char asked from the front seat.

“Neighbor,” Jake growled. “Don’t ask.”

“He has a walker now,” Grandma added. “It’s harder for him to get around, though he is much more creative these days.” She chuckled. “You’ll meet him at the wedding.”

“Can’t wait.” Char gri

“All right.” Jake opened the door. “Let me see it.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Pull up the pant leg. Let me see it.” He pointed down at her leg. “If you don’t let me see it I’m a

Grandma gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“He would,” Char said. “Believe me, his apple definitely fell from your tree.”

Grandma smiled. “That’s my boy.”

“Up.” Jake motioned, ignoring the compliment.

“Fine.” Grandma pulled up her pant leg. The tattoo was really colorful; in fact it would’ve been a really pretty tattoo if the woman in the hula skirt wasn’t naked.

“Sailor Jerry,” Jake guessed.

At Char’s gasp Grandma said, “It’s a classic! Why, we had these around war time!”

“Naked is still naked, war or no war,” Jake said.

“Topless,” Grandma shrugged, “is not naked. It’s not as if I have the girls—”

“And you’re done talking,” Jake interrupted. “So what do we do? Char and I have to plan this joint party you’ve suddenly come up with out of nowhere and you don’t want anything to do with Petunia.”

With a dramatic sigh, Grandma got out of the car. “Fine, I’ll play nice. Just don’t let that, that, woman, near me!”

“Grandma.” Jake kissed her hand. “I knew we’d see eye to eye.”

“Rogue.” She winked. “You always were my favorite.”

“Fu

She waved him off. “Yes, well, right now he’s on my shit list.”

Char burst into laughter behind them.

Grandma peered around Jake. “I know, I said ‘shit’, but it’s true. He’s been sneaking out of his room! Not to mention he’s terrible at it. He’ll thank me after the wedding night; that is if he doesn’t die first. But if he does at least he’ll die pure rather than as a si

“I think he and Kacey have already—”

“Shh, all right. I’m off to search for the vodka. I’m going to need strong spirits if I have to breathe the same air as Petunia the Prude.”

Char got out of the car and followed them. “Grandma, it’s like ten in the morning.”

“Dear.” Grandma turned and faced Char. “When you’re eighty-six and you’ve lived a long, full, and happy life, the last thing you pay attention to is the time. So it’s ten in the morning? It’s five o’clock somewhere!” With that, she waltzed off.

“Hmm,” Char said.

“What?” Jake looped his arm in hers.

“I’m trying to figure out what I’m more concerned about.”

“Huh?” Jake stopped walking.

“Grandma listening to Jimmy Buffett or the fact that she’s drinking nine hours before the pleasure party.”

“Her costume may be a lamp shade,” Jake agreed. “But you heard the woman, and what she says is law.”

“So maybe being eighty-six won’t be so bad.” Char laughed.

“Live by her rules.” He pointed to the kitchen where Grandma was pouring herself a healthy drink. “And I’m sure it won’t be.” 

Chapter Forty

“Open the door, Char. It can’t be that bad.” Jake knocked for the tenth time and waited. Char swore on the other end. “Char? I’m waiting. We’re the hosts of the pleasure party.”

“Don’t say it like that.” She said from the other side of the door.

“How do you want me to say it?”

With a groan, she pulled open the door. “Don’t laugh.”

Laugh? Was she insane? She looked like a hotter version of Britney Spears, before the crazy. Her long chestnut hair was straightened and hung past her breasts. She had on a leather hat that matched her short leather dress. She put her hands on her hips; they were covered with lace gloves.

“Get in the bathroom,” he growled.

Char’s eyes widened as she backed up.

Jake kicked the door closed just as his mouth found hers. He lifted her onto the counter and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Damn, you look good.” He kissed her exposed neck. She tilted her head back and let out a soft feminine sigh as her fingers dug into his back.

“It’s time!” Someone banged on the door.

“No it’s not,” Jake argued, not taking his lips from Char’s neck.

“Oh, but it is.” The door burst open, revealing the lady from the store. “Trying out some products, I see? The costumes do it every time.”

Jake jerked away from Char and cursed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s your turn.” The lady handed an outfit to Jake. “Everyone’s ready but you.”

“Right.” He took the outfit. “Thanks for reminding me.”

She stood there and waited for Char to leave before the door clicked shut again.

Char’s outfit had been something out of his wildest fantasies; his couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Have you seen Jake?” Jace asked as he took a seat across from Char. “I’ve been meaning to ask him about his toast. I kind of want to do something tomorrow night, too; that is if he’ll pull his face out of his ass long enough to talk to me.”