“No, you ass,” Grandma seethed.
Char ordered more drinks. Cursing. Not good.
“The list I gave you and Char this morning! It had all those tasks on it for you to complete for the wedding. Where is it?”
“In the car,” Jake said, just as Char said, “We lost it.”
They glared at one another.
“I’ll just be—” Beth rose from the table.
“Sit!” Char yelled.
Beth sat.
“Jake has it.” Char pointed to Jake and gave him a sweet smile.
A muscle twitched in his jaw as he leaned on the table and took a few deep breaths. “Right, it’s… safe.”
“Safe.” Grandma snorted. “Fine, just be sure to finish the last few tasks.”
“Why can’t you do it?” Jake asked. “You’re retired; can’t you just… run around in one of my cars and get the errands done?”
Grandma paused, taking great care in her breathing. Then she turned her head ever so slightly in Jake’s direction. A frozen smile appeared on her face before she carefully picked up the list and stuffed it in her purse. “If you weren’t such an ass you would know. I have bridge with the girls.”
“Every day?” Jake asked.
“Every day. At least…” Grandma chuckled, seeming to remember her good humor. “In the mornings.”
“Great. So you can finish the tasks in the evenings.”
“Oh, Jake.” She patted his arm. “You innocent little thing.”
It was Char’s turn to choke on her drink.
“The evening is for different… activities.”
“Good Lord, at least try to hide the fact that you’re out… doing things.”
“What things?” Beth asked suddenly, leaning across the table.
“Don’t worry about it.” Jake glared at Beth and shook his head.
Grandma tittered. “You know, things.” She took great care pronouncing “things”, as if there was some very important underlying meaning to the word, and then began to chuckle to herself all over again. “I do love the evenings, yes I do.” Her eyes took on a glassy appearance.
“We’re going to need more alcohol,” Char whispered under her breath to Jake.
“And a roofie,” Jake added. “I don’t want to remember this conversation. Ever.”
“Tomorrow.” Grandma pushed away from the table and stood. “Jake, take me home. I’m tired. But tomorrow you will meet Char, say… for lunch, at the house? And finish up the rest of the list before we board the plane Thursday.”
“Thursday?” Both Jake and Char yelled.
Grandma squinted. “But of course! You have to be early for the wedding by a week at least! Whatever is wrong with young people these days!” She pulled a fifty from her purse and slammed it onto the table. “You have fun, girls. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Great, Grandma.” Jake swore. “May as well just give them permission to get arrested.”
“That was one time!” Grandma argued.
“You were in a Mexican prison. We’re lucky you’re alive.”
“Oh, Pablo, he was something.” Grandma tugged at her necklace and began caressing the pearls.
Beth’s mouth dropped open.
Char had to kick her under the table again to get her to close it.
“Well, ta ta!” Grandma waved and then pulled Jake by the shirt until they were out the door.
The table fell silent.
Tequila shots were everywhere.
Beth looked at Char.
Char looked at the table.
“So.” Beth sucked on part of a lime. “That was fun.”
Char groaned and then banged her head against the table. “How am I going to make it through the next few weeks with those two?”
Beth laughed. “Easy.”
“Huh?”
“Xanax.”
“Very funny.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jake paced in front of the door. Char had texted and said she’d stop by around noon. It was officially five minutes past. Where was she? He needed to find a way to get back his job and his manhood, preferably in reverse order.
The morning had started off normally enough, with Grandma doing her damn yoga and then demanding he drop her off at her Bridge group. But even when Grandma asked for one thing, it was never just one thing. No, she’d demand you do something else, fail to give an explanation, and then look at you like you were an idiot if you asked why.
He felt like a kid again, like he had the time Grandma caught him stealing M&Ms from the convenience store and then bought him a five-pound bag and demanded he sit and eat the entire bag in front of her.
Her reasoning was that it would keep him from stealing again. Because if she ever caught him with sticky fingers, he’d either have to consume said object or wear it around the house.
In high school it had happened again with beer. She’d given him a six pack and told him to chug until he got sick. It took him three before he was puking. Naturally, Grandma had finished the rest of the pack.