“You can call whatever kind of bird you’d like. I did not have sex.”
Dixie’s rich laughter filled the office at Em’s intentional misuse of the word. “Then where were you last night when I called you at ten sharp? I know it was ten sharp because that’s when you watch the DIY channel for an hour until bedtime. Caine was in Johnsonville last night, and I thought maybe we could watch over the phone together. But you weren’t home.”
“I was so. I went to bed early.” Sort of. Technically, she’d gone to bed.
“Oh, no. I know that’s not true. Do you want to know how I know that’s not true?”
“Again, we’re back at the word truth. What does Dixie Davis know about the truth?” She gave her a saucy lift of her eyebrow and flipped through the latest Call Girl stats.
“I know it’s not true because you didn’t let Dora out at nine-thirty. Alder Caldwell says you let Dora out at exactly nine-thirty every night. His bedroom faces your back door off the kitchen. But last night, he didn’t hear Dora whine to come in until three in the morning. Plus, you have bags under your eyes. Big, dark bags. So dark, they’re like the baggage claim carousel at the airport, annnd you have a stiff neck. Suspiciously, Jax’s back is sore today. Could it be that Jax and my Emmaline have similar ailments because they did similar sexually related acts?”
Damn. Most times it was nice to have neighbors who looked out for you. Especially when you were single and the sole protector of your castle.
When you were having no-strings sex like a shameless sex addict, not as nice. And they’d have to do something about that air mattress. Invest in an upgrade, find a new place to meet or something, because all these aches and pains would give them both away. “And when did Alder tell you this?”
Dixie gave her a sour look. “Well, he didn’t tell me, silly. No one tells me anything, remember? Plum Orchard’s favorite pariah? He was telling Louella Palmer at Madge’s this morning while I was getting coffee...”
Em glanced at the clock on the wall of her office. It was almost noon—that meant all the Plum Orchardians in Plum Orchard-ville were about to eviscerate her over their grilled cheese sandwiches. But there was no proof. She’d made certain of that. So, too bad, Louella Palmer. “FYI, gossipmonger, Dora had a bit of a stomach bug last night. She woke me up, and that’s why I let her out so late.”
Again, not a total lie. Dora had thrown up all over the carpet, and she really had let her out at three in the morning when she’d gotten home from Jax’s. Actually, it had been three-o-six when she’d caught a glimpse of her alarm clock and realized that all this illicit sex she was planning on having would have to have an egg timer set on it.
Three hours of sleep just wasn’t going to keep her on her toes to fend off questions just like these.
“Oh, no,” Dixie sympathized, instantly forgetting her accusations. “Is she okay? Did you call the vet?”
Em fought a yawn—one that made her mouth water. “I think it was the change in her food. The supermarket didn’t have her usual brand, so I bought an in-between bag, and I think it disagreed with her touchy tummy.”
Dixie nodded and made her poor baby face. “Poor Dora. Okay, now that’s covered, tell me about the sex.”
Em sighed, emphasis on exaggerating her impatience. “I didn’t have sex.”
“Who didn’t have sex?” Marybell asked, strolling into Em’s office, her eyes covered from lid to eyebrow in her signature smoky eyeshadow.
Dixie pointed to Em. “She didn’t.”
Marybell perched on the end of the desk, the spikes from the chain hanging from her leather pants scraping on the edge of the wood. “You didn’t have sex? Why are we surprised by that, Dixie?”
Hold on. Was that the label prude being thrown around again? Em tapped her desk with her fingernail. “Excuse me. I’ve had lots and lots of sex.”
“I knew it,” Dixie taunted, to the tune of Marybell’s soft chuckle.
“Stop misconstruing. I’m not having sex now. I meant I’ve had sex just like everyone else. With my clothes off.”
“In the dark, with the curtains closed up tighter ’n Fort Knox. You tell ’em, honey,” LaDawn teased, leaning a shoulder on the door frame. They often had talks like this just as her and Dixie’s day was ending, and LaDawn’s and Marybell’s was just beginning.
Em loved them. She loved hearing about their crazy phone calls, or even what they had for dinner the night before. She felt included, loved, involved. But tonight? When all she wanted to do was skip back to her house, luxuriate in some bath bubbles and decide what she’d wear for her and Jax’s meeting tonight, she didn’t feel like touching base.
Em’s cheeks sucked inward. “I have so had sex with the lights on.” She had, and it had been just fine. Not like last night fine, but fine enough.