Peaches and the Gambler, Page 2

  The woman promptly fainted, landing most unfortunately upon a mature blackberry bush bristling with sharp thorns. Her husband, always happy to laugh at his wife’s expense, burst out laughing when she popped back up like a jack-in-the-box, before calling 911.

  Chapter 2

  “Mummy. Mummy your phones ringing.”

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, Ni-Ni.”

  “It’s your father.”

  “I especially don’t want to talk to him.” Peaches grimaced, furiously scratching at her head with chipped nails.

  “He’s called—like—a dozen times in two days. Think it just might be an emergency.” Peaches oldest daughter Nina had mastered the art of sarcasm far, far too well.

  “Nothing that can’t wait,” Peaches retorted, stubbornly digging into a bag of day old microwave popcorn.

  It was the third Saturday in April. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining and fifteen-year-old Nina Donnelly-Chalmette was rapidly losing patience.

  One would never know it, but just a scant week ago her mother had been an attractive, smooth-skinned woman with a get-it-done-or-die attitude. At present, her mane of shiny black hair was weave-less and stuffed beneath a doo-rag, her teeth were a tad on the yellow side and her nails and toes were without their usual ghetto-chic designs.

  The last week had been one long, warm stretch of perfect spring weather. Nina should have been reveling in it, enjoying it like other carefree teenagers. Instead, she had been forced to nurse her mother through what her school counselor had sympathetically referred to as a ‘blue period’. Nina was cooking, cleaning, and bickering with her little sister, who, since her mother’s falling off, had become the sibling from hell.

  Nina watched as one fabulous day after another slipped away. Well, not today! She woke up this morning and decided she’d had it.

  She had a sixteenth birthday party coming up, a driving license test to pass and her virginity to lose. She just didn’t have time for this!

  “Fine! You don’t wanna talk to anybody? Don’t,” she huffed. Rolling her eyes, Nina tossed freshly done micro-braids over one shoulder. “But I’m gonna open these.”

  “Don’t Ni-Ni!” Peaches bellowed, finally shifting away from the television to glower at her daughter.

  “Too late,” Nina said, spitefully.

  Maliciously jerking blinds open, late morning sunlight shone cruelly on the untidy contents of their apartment living room. Peaches blinked against the onslaught of wanton sunshine. Dust devils swirled and danced in the air, skittering across furniture surfaces and coming to rest in the nooks and crannies of what used to be a welcoming space.

  It would have been an understatement to say it looked a hot mess.

  Sylvie, or Sly as she was nicknamed, wandered in rubbing her eyes; character pajama’s tight on a well-padded, eight-year-old body. She was golden-skinned with pale, grey eyes and thick, light brown hair. An anomaly in a family dominated by brown and dark-skinned people, Peaches had been questioned, to the point of a paternity suit compliments of The Ex, on the origin of those eyes. It was eventually proven, with 99.9% accuracy, that The Ex was the father, after which Peaches had crowed and generally acted as if she were on The Maury Povich Show. Being that many folk in the South were victims one way or the other of the slave trade, it wasn’t too far fetched to believe Sly’s eyes were simply a throwback to some long dead ancestor’s tormentor.

  “What’s going on?” Sly asked.

  “Nothing. Just waking mummy vampire up. You can take over now.”

  Nina peered out the window. Her date Monte was parked three buildings away as she had instructed him. Squinting, she could just make out his adorable, bopping head.

  Excited, she walked back to her bedroom, slipping on a pair of thong sandals and feeling the zipper of her jacket to ensure it was still firmly in place. Tossing her things into a bright red purse, she slung it over one shoulder Humming a cheerful tune, she strolled jauntily down the hall, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Sly demanded, blocking her way.

  “None of your business!” Nina snarled, stiff arming her aside.

  “Cool your attitude, girl. Where are you going?” her mother asked. “I didn’t think you had to work today.”

  “They called and asked me to fill in for Melodie,” Nina fibbed, glibly. “So I said: ‘Why not?’ Don’t wanna sit around here all day.”

  “Okay. You’re taking the bus?”

  “No. Leslie’s picking me up.”

  Leslie Silverstein was her Ace and best friend. They had known one another since elementary school. Close to Nina’s mom, Leslie wouldn’t appreciate being used as a prop for Nina’s lies, especially not in the pursuit of Monte, whom in her own words ‘Was as sorry as Payless Shoes without a receipt’. But that was okay because she wouldn’t find out.

  One of the perks of being an honor student and all around goodie-two-shoes was that your parents didn’t ask too many questions when you said you were going out to do something. They just blindly believed you.

  But just to be sure her fib wasn’t detected; she avoided looking directly at her mother. She needn’t have bothered. Her mother was once again enraptured by the TV.

  “See you later.”

  “See ya.” Nina dashed out the door a little too quickly, slamming it behind her.

  Sly, suspicious, nipped over to the window, bending the slats of the blinds and peering out. She watched as Ni-Ni slipped into Monte’s car and they sped off.

  “Stop bending those blinds, Sly. You being nosy?”

  “A little,” Sly said, a thoughtful expression on her cat-like face.

  Chapter 3

  Peaches phone was ringing…again.

  Unfortunately, Nina was at work and Sly was on a play date with a friend. So she’d either have to allow voice mail to pick up, or she’d have to drag herself off the couch and join the world of the living. She groaned, picking herself up with great effort. Abandoned popcorn crumbs showered from her lap and dropped to the floor as she looked around, knees creaking like a geriatric.

  Where was that darn phone?

  It continued to ring as she probed under couch cushions, looked under a table piled with unopened mail and stretched tired, possibly atrophied muscles to peer to the top of a very dusty fridge. The phone fell silent and she lost the trail.

  She stood in the hallway, bewildered for a moment, head cocked to the side. It started ringing again. She finally found it lying beside the sink in the hall bathroom the girls shared. It was perilously close to an open tube of oozing toothpaste.

  Frowning, she screwed the top on the toothpaste, peering at the caller I.D.

  Vernon. Her erstwhile boyfriend.

  Hadn’t she told him to beat it a few weeks back? She steadfastly ignored the treacherous voice that screamed ‘Pick up!’ The voice reached a screeching crescendo and her hands grew moist.

  She was so weak. She picked up.

  “Peaches?” Vernon’s pitifully, hopeful voice melted a little of the ice formed around her heart after his last transgression.

  “Vernon. I asked you not to call.”

  “I know…but I miss you, girl. You still mad?”

  “Lynn caught you with your ex at the library, Vern,” she retorted, icily.

  Lynn, a good friend, had immediately reported this latest mini-drama to Peaches. ‘I told you to stop dating his lyin’ ass!’ and ‘I can’t fuckin’ stand Verrrmin.’ were tossed into the conversation. Additional, generous sprinklings of Vernon directed insults were bandied about as Lynn had once again tried to get Peaches to ‘…leave that fool alone!’

  “I told you I just bumped into her there. It wasn’t nothin’ that serious.” His voice was urgent, silky smooth and regretful. The same tone he took with difficult clients at the dealership where he was head salesman.

  “Vern, in the five years we’ve been dating, off and on, I’ve never seen you pick up a book. Why now?”

  “I�
��m tryin’ to change, baby. I watch too much TV. Isn’t that what you always say?”

  “And your major life change just so happened to coincide with Monay’s appearance? The last I remembered all she read was the amount of money on a man’s paycheck. At least that’s what you told me.”

  “You don’t believe me.” His voice had dropped an octave. Peaches had to strain to hear his words.

  “Well, I mean—,” Peaches said, relenting. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was being too hard on him.

  “Look,” he said, pouncing on the uncertainty in Peaches tone. “I love you. Lynn was wrong. You know me. Come on. We’d be married now if it wasn’t for you being so scared.”

  True. But his marriage proposals usually came after he lied, felt like he was losing her, or when she was in touch with Stick, her old college sweetheart.

  “I don’t know. I just need some more time to think.”

  She felt her resolve softening like taffy on a hot day.

  “Ok, ok. I respect that. I’ll call you later on this week to check on you.”

  “Alright.”

  He hung up and Peaches looked at her phone for a moment, feeling foolishly happy. She scrolled through her phone’s history. There were a million messages. Most of them from her friends Lynn and Charm; the others from Vernon and her father.

  First things first. She dialed Lynn.

  **

  Calling Lynn had been a major mistake.

  “Ha!” Lynn was heartily chortling on the other line. “He used the ‘Five Steps to Closing a Sale’ technique on you, Peaches and you fell for it!”

  “No. He would never--,” Peaches indignantly began.

  “First off—he would,” Lynn interrupted, a rich vein of ‘I told you so’ saturating her tone. “There’s nothing Vermin wouldn’t do,” she said succinctly. Peaches absolutely hated it when Lynn called Vernon ‘Vermin’, thus she did it even more. “Secondly—I’m a salesman, too. The best. I’ve attended a gazillion selling seminars and I’ve won top awards for selling drugs and I make a ton of money doing it.” Peaches rolled her eyes. She’d only heard this a million times. “Hell, I’m practically an escort for my rich doctor clients. They call and I come running whispering sweet nothings in their ears and whipping out some of the best drugs money can buy. Matter of fact, we just got some meds in that make Viagra look like chewable kiddie vitamins. One of my doctors told me when he came it was so good, he blacked out temporarily. Me and my boy toy are trying that one out tonight. Anyway, the point of all of this is to say: you got got.”

  “Damn.” Peaches sank back down on the couch, feeling depressed all over again.

  “Anyway, screw him. Hey, look, so I’m on this new diet,” Lynn said, her legendary ability to turn subjects back around to her own life in full force.

  “Another one?” Peaches asked, dryly.

  “Hey look—J.Lo. is getting divorced from her third husband and will probably be working on a fourth before the ink is dry. If she can keep trying so can I.”

  “So—what is it this time?”

  The two of them, in their eternal quest to lose weight, had tried The Red Meat Diet, The ‘Chocolate Diet’ The Mango Diet, The Soy Milk Diet and The ‘No Diet Diet’. She had gained five pounds on that one.

  No more diets for Peaches.

  “This one is called The Cabbage Diet,” she gushed, excitedly. “I watched one of my co-workers lose fifteen pounds in one month! We’re starting today.”

  “We? There’s no ‘We’.”

  “Had any Bojangles’ since you got laid off?”

  “Not really,” she lied.

  “Right. Sweetie. We could both use a trim down.”

  “I’m fine where I am, thank you very much,” Peaches said primly. The bulge at her waistband was just leftover winter fat, she surmised. It would soon melt away when the summer heat began barreling into the South. At least, that’s what she fervently hoped.

  “If we start now, we could be ready by bikini season,” Lynn continued as though Peaches hadn’t said a word.

  Now it was Peaches turn to laugh. It was already mid April. Lynn was right, they could both trim down. However, Lynn weighed upwards of two hundred pounds. There was no way in hell she would be ready for bikini season.

  It was one of those great equalizers in Girlfriend Universe when your highly successful friend who had it all: big house, wonderful boyfriend, tons of cash; was also far bigger than you. It made dealing with her so much easier.

  “What’s so funny?” Lynn asked.

  “We are not going to be ready by June.”

  “Ok. Maybe July,” she said, stubbornly. “Come on! Let’s just do it.”

  “Fine,” Peaches relented. She really could lose a few pounds. She ignored the voice telling her Lynn had once again bullied her into something.

  “This is gonna be great! So here’s how it goes.”

  Lynn outlined a food nutrition plan that seemed straight out of a Nazi concentration camp. Essentially, they would be eating the rough equivalent of cabbage gruel for three entire weeks. Then, they would slowly incorporate other foods once the ‘cleansing’ period was over.

  She hung up, determinedly going to town on all the junk in the fridge. In a frenzy of discipline, she chucked bacon, jungle juice, Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, toaster strudel’s and store bought cupcakes in the garbage. But not the Super Fudge Chunk or the Dove ice cream bars. They stayed. Something good was going to come out of her unemployment.

  **

  An hour later she was in the grocery store trolling the produce department in a pair of yoga pants and a non-descript, scoop-necked tee. Three crisp heads of cabbage and a large package of bottled waters lolled around in her shopping cart. Peaches figured going to the grocery store was a small, safe step to make when attempting to rejoin the human race.

  Bent over inspecting a questionable bunch of limp green onions, a familiar, high pitched squeal reverberated in Peaches ears. Before she could turn around, she was being bear hugged from behind, kisses raining all over her neck and cheeks.

  “Oh my God! I’ve missed you like crazy!”

  Finally able to turn around, her face was enveloped in the veritable mountain of purple hair wobbling atop Charm Williams head.

  Charm was a lot for the south. She was a lot for any city, really. Dark-skinned, tall, tattooed and gorgeous, subtlety hadn’t been built into her DNA. Neither had modesty for that matter. Her skirt was short enough to scandalize the elderly woman next to them. She scurried off glaring and muttering. Everyone else was content with severe head whipping and goggling.

  Her appearance was completely at odds with the valley girl, I-Attended-Private-Schools-All-My-Life, tone of her voice.

  “You were a redhead the last time I saw you,” Peaches said, reaching up to touch her hair admiringly. “I think I like this look better. When’d you get back in town?”

  “This morning. On a red eye. Tired as hell, too. Why haven’t you been picking up your phone? I called a few times and then gave up.”

  “Just been busy, that’s all,” she said, shiftily.

  “Riiiight.”

  Peaches spied several new piercings in weird places up and down her ears. Her voice sounded huskier and deeper than normal.

  “You been smoking?”

  “Pot. Tons and tons of pot.”

  “I thought you quit.”

  Charm shrugged. “Not pot, sweetie. Especially not in Cali. You can’t be in California and not smoke pot. I am now a card carrying medicinal marijuana user.” She whipped out a card some marijuana dealer probably Photo-shopped and printed out on his home computer. “I so needed it for my bad back,” she said with a grin and a wink.

  “Uh-huh,” Peaches said, shaking her head. “What happened with you coming back within a week of leaving? You’ve been gone for three months.”

  She shrugged again, pursing glossy lips. “Met a couple. They were fun.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. Loaded
, too. Had a house overlooking the Pacific. Watching the sun rise and set from all those windows was amazing. They ate the hell outta my pussy, too. But Justine started falling a little too in love and you know I don’t do love.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  As an aspiring actress, having casual one-nighters, doing drugs and travelling to foreign locales at the drop of a dime was simply part of the landscape, one which Charm wholeheartedly and enthusiastically embraced. Peaches was far too familiar with Charm’s wild escapade’s to do more than raise an eyebrow to her casual gutter talk. One story had involved two Egyptian police officers, half a pound of weed, and if there were such a thing, one of the minor pyramids.

  They strolled toward the meat section, Charm plucking a gigantic, well-marbled ribeye from a pile and tossing it into her basket. Peaches stomach rumbled in response.

  “They did pay for my advanced level training, though. I am officially a California trained mixologist.”

  “They paid for it?”

  “Yep.”

  “And how much did that cost?” Peaches asked.

  Another slow smile. Another shrug.

  “Don’t know,” Charm replied. “I don’t ask ‘free’ questions.”

  “That’s amazingly generous,” she said, speculatively. “And how did Arsenios feel about your extended absence? Didn’t you tell him you would only be gone long enough to try out for that part?”

  Arsenios was the highly temperamental owner of the bar Charm had been managing before disappearing for the sunny shores of California. Peaches was sure her flippant behavior wouldn’t go over well with the stocky Greek.

  Charm smirked, a low smoky laugh bubbling up from her throat.

  “Arsenios will deal with it,” she said, a finely arched eyebrow raised.

  “So you’ll still be managing the bar?”

  “Nobody else there has my skills. But that’s up to him. I have options.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “Very. Oh--Mia flew in from Berlin for my birthday. I got her drunk as hell and played nice with the couple. She thought they were just friends of mine. I didn’t want to ruin big sis’ innocent misconception, so I behaved.”

  “For once,” Peaches snorted. “How old are you now?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Twenty-fucking-six. I can barely remember what I was like ten years ago.” She picked up a pack of discount chicken breasts, examined it and put it back. That wasn’t part of The Cabbage Diet. “How is your sister by the way?”