Shame on Me

“YOU SCOUNDREL! HOW DARE YOU HURT PAIGE!” Eunice shouts angrily as her black leather purse connects with Giovanni’s face.

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STOLE THE COMMUNION HOSTS FROM SAINT MICHAEL’S!” Fran adds, hitting Giovanni in the stomach with her cane.

Getting up from the floor, I watch in awe as Giovanni cowers from their purse-and-cane assault with his hands over his head.

“STOP HITTING ME! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Giovanni screams. His shouts are cut off when Eunice’s purse smacks him right in the mouth.

“Don’t swear at me, young man!” Fran bops him on the head with her cane.

The front doors to the church burst open then, and twenty men in uniform, with Ted leading the way, charge into the room with their guns aimed.

“GUNS DOWN! HANDS IN THE AIR!”

I automatically put my hands up so they don’t shoot me by accident, but Fran and Eunice don’t stop; they’re too busy teaching Giovanni a lesson, connecting with every single body part of his they can reach.

The men surround the circle of angry-old-lady chaos, not quite sure where to aim their weapons. Giovanni quickly tosses his gun away and it slides across the floor.

“I surrender! I surrender! Just get these crazy bitches away from me!” he yells.

“Your mouth needs to be washed out with soap, young man!” Fran informs him as she swings her purse around and it smacks into his eye.

“Ladies! Please put the purses down!” Ted orders.

“Do I have to put my gun down too? I’m holding a criminal in place over here,” my mother shouts from Vinnie’s side.

“Oh, my God,” Ted mutters. “Mrs. McCarty, please put your weapon on the ground.”

My mother raises her eyebrow at him.

“Don’t call her that. She just shot the last guy who called her ‘Mrs. McCarty,’” I warn him.

My mother gives Vinnie one last dirty look before putting her gun into her purse and walking over to us. Several officers surround Vinnie, slapping cuffs on him, while one calls in an ambulance on his shoulder radio.

The cops finally get a handle on Eunice and Fran and convince them that they can take it from here. The women stop swinging their purses and take a step back, straightening their short, gray permed hair and fixing their clothes.

“It took you boys long enough to get here. I called 911 an hour ago and told them we found out who was stealing the communion hosts from Saint Michael’s,” my mother complains to Ted.

“Mom, what in the world would possess you to come in here with your friends in the middle of a sting?”

She stares at me like I’m the one who’s lost her mind. “Paige. They stole Communion. The body of Christ. We just couldn’t let something like that go, so we took matters into our own hands when the police didn’t show after thirty minutes.”

She shoots a dirty look in Ted’s direction.

“I apologize, ma’am. We sort of had our hands full trying to take down a crime ring and didn’t realize the Golden Girls were going to swoop in and save the day for us.”

“Oooh, the Golden Girls. I like it. I’m Dorothy,” Fran pipes up with a smile.

“You can’t be Dorothy. You’re not tall enough,” my mom informs her indignantly.

“It’s not my fault I’ve got curvature of the spine!” Fran argues.

One of the cops who are guarding Vinnie walks up to Ted. “Sir, the ambulance is two minutes out. We’ve got the bleeding stopped and Mr. DeMarco says he’ll do whatever we ask as long as we keep the old lady with the gun away from him.”

My mother smirks at Ted. “We might be old ladies, but we get the job done.”

Ted laughs and shakes his head at her. Giovanni is cuffed and dragged out of the building, complaining the whole way about old ladies who carry bricks in their purses, and how he’s going to sue the department for using excessive force. The ambulance arrives moments later and Vinnie is strapped to a gurney and wheeled outside.

My mother and her friends are taken away to go down to the police station to answer questions, and when it’s finally quiet, Ted turns to me.

“Care to enlighten me on why you whispered an apology into the mic and we never heard anything that happened in here?”

Before I can inform him that taking off that mic most likely saved my life, I hear my name shouted, and I turn to see Matt running toward me. I turn just as he gets to me, scooping me up into his arms and crushing me to him.

“Jesus Christ. Thank God. Kennedy wouldn’t let me anywhere near this place, and when she got a phone call that shots were fired, I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

Matt pulls me away from him and runs his hands over my head, my face, my arms, and every part of me he can reach, checking for injuries.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I reassure him as his fingers lightly skim the bruise that I’m sure is now forming on my cheek from Vinnie’s punch.

“Where is that asshole? I’m going to kill him,” Matt says.

“Don’t worry. My mother already got a head start. She shot him in the leg.”