Mama Gets Trashed

Maddie held a cocktail napkin with a phone number scribbled on it in lipstick. She’d found it deep in the pocket of a pair of Ke

I hadn’t waited around at Mama’s to hear any more of Teensy’s yapping—not to mention any further dissection of Maddie’s strange behavior. I made a quick excuse about having to be up early, and was out the door right behind her. I tailed her to her house.

Now, the two of us were in her living room. The telephone beckoned on a table between us. The room was so quiet, I could hear the motor whirring on the decorative fountain in Maddie’s front yard.

I punched in the phone number. It rang and rang, maybe a dozen times, before someone finally answered. The clink of glasses and laughter echoed in my ear.

“19th Hole Lounge; Angel speaking.’’

I pressed down the button on the phone to disco

“Who was it?’’ Maddie asked.

“Nobody,’’ I lied. “They never picked up.’’

“No answering machine? No voice mail?’’

I shrugged. “Maybe they can’t afford it.’’

I folded the napkin and slipped it deep into my pocket. I wasn’t going to make it easy for Maddie to call again. I wasn’t sure how the golf course’s bar—and its gorgeous barmaid—played into Ke

Later, when Maddie’s mind was less burdened, she might think about hitting redial on her home phone. For now, the number was hidden in my pocket. I tried to distract her. “Why don’t you try Ke

“I’ve dialed that number so many times the cramps in my fingers have cramps,’’ Maddie said. “I have the feeling he’s hiding out at his hunting camp. Would you go look for him? I’m so angry, I honestly don’t trust what I might do if I find him.’’

I knew Maddie was right about that. The mood she was in, she might just shoot him and mount his head like a hunting trophy on the wall. “Absolutely, I’ll go. If I find him, I’ll fetch him home again.’’ I didn’t say I’d probably knock some sense into the cheating bastard first.

“You can find it, right?’’

“Yep, I was just out there last winter when y’all had that big pig roast. It’s almost to the Okeechobee County line, not too far from the dump.’’

Maddie nodded. “I owe you one.’’ Her voice was so soft I had to lean in to hear her.

She looked miserable. It seemed every ounce of the self-confidence she’d always possessed had been sucked out. Putting my arm around her, I pulled her close. I wanted to protect her.

“You’d do the same for me, sister. You don’t owe me a thing.’’

I smoothed at Maddie’s fiery red hair, and brushed my lips against her cheek. It tasted salty from the tears she’d shed.

_____

My Jeep bounced over the rutted entrance to Ke

I tried to keep my eyes out for potholes, while my mind focused on what I’d find when the Jeep came out the other side. Even in the dark, I could see the white blossoms on a wild sour orange. The tree’s branches scratched at the Jeep, rubbing paint off my already-

battered ride.

Finally, I broke free of the woodsy tu

The Jeep rolled over what looked like a huge anthill. I pulled to a stop about twenty-five feet from the front porch door. Grabbing a flashlight from the glove box, I got out and made my way to the structure.

I knew the camp was larger—and nicer—inside than it seemed from the yard. Ke

The first thing that struck me was the smell of cigarette smoke. Aside from Sal’s occasional cigars, no one in our family smoked. Ke

Only after the cigarette odor registered did I notice another, fainter smell. It was lemony, like perfume or cologne. I’d smelled it somewhere before. When I sat down on the couch, the sweet scent was stronger. It seemed to rise up from the cushions. I definitely preferred it to the smoke stink, or the stale beer I could smell in a bottle on an end table next to the couch.

The bottle was about two-thirds full. Cigarette ashes littered the top, and someone had dropped their butts into the remaining beer. Lovely. The ashtray on the coffee table also overflowed, and lots of those discards were stained with lipstick. I poked through the ashtray with a pencil, and found at least three different shades on various cigarettes.

It looked like more than hunting was happening at Ke

The bed was rumpled, a jumble of black satin sheets and tossed pillows. No way were those linens Maddie’s. My prudish, fiscally conservative sister would be more likely to sleep on a bed of nails than on slinky, pricey, black satin.

Thong panties, bright red with lacy insets, draped a lampshade. Again, not Maddie’s. On the nightstand sat two empty cans of diet Mountain Dew, Ke

I may be more Budweiser than fine champagne, but even I knew that was some pretty pricey hooch. Another two bottles, empty, were up-ended in silver ice buckets half-filled with water. The water was still cool to the touch, but all the ice had melted. I counted five champagne flutes. Three were on top of a bureau. The other two were on the floor by the head of the bed, one on each side. I checked them for lipstick stains. All but one had the telltale marks.

I fetched the ashtray from the living room to see if the shades matched. At least one did—the lipstick on several of the cigarette butts matched one of the champagne glasses.

I stood there, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. No matter how I figured, it didn’t look good for Ke

I hadn’t found him, but I’d certainly found something. What in the world was I going to tell my sister?

I was about to leave when I remembered the napkin with the phone number I’d shoved into my pocket. I pulled it out and held it next to the champagne flute that matched one of the cigarettes. The rosy red phone number to the 19th Hole Lounge was written in exactly the same shade of lipstick.

_____

Outside on the front porch, I let my eyes adjust again to the dark. Beneath a waxing moon, there was light enough to see the sabal fronds begi