The B Girls

Mae Taylor Cleans Up





Mae Taylor hit the off button on the phone and went in search of her husband. He wasn't going to be pleased that she was taking off without leaving dinner but Jane's fear for Lucy was catching.

Chip was in the family room with beer and pretzels watching the Braves game on the super jumbo TV.

What else would he be doing on a Saturday afternoon after playing a round of golf in the morning?

Mae took a deep breath, smoothed her already perfect hair, and entered the lion's den.

"Chip?"

He responded with a "hmmm" without looking away from the game.

"I have to go over and check on Lucy. She's upset about something."

"Okay. What's for supper?"

"I don't know. I might not be back in time to cook."

That got his attention. "Why not? Can't Gary handle whatever's going on over there?"

"Gary seems to be the problem."

Chip let out a put upon sigh. "Fine. I suppose if you don't make it back the kids and I can order pizza."

As if that was such a hardship. Pizza was generally the food of choice for Chip and her two teenagers.

"Good but it'll just be you and Chelsea. Trey is spending the night at the Longs. Make sure he has his toothbrush and tell him to use it. Tell Chelsea her cheerleading uniform is in the dryer she needs to get it out and hang it up before it wrinkles."

"I'll try to remember. When will you be home?"

"I don't know. I'll call if it's going to be late."

Chip grunted in response, his attention recaptured by some cheering and excitement from the game.

Blessedly dismissed, Mae went back to the kitchen to grab her purse and keys. Lucy's house was only two blocks away but she was in a hurry and didn't know what she was going to find when she arrived.

As she opened the door and slid behind the wheel, the minivan exhaled the lingering smell of fast food, trapped since their last stop at Wendy's on the way home from cheerleading practice. She made a mental note to Febreeze the upholstery.

Mae drove past her neighbor's perfect homes, each one different--God forbid people who drive the same cars, wear the same clothes and belong to the same clubs should live in houses that looked alike--each one with an identical mailbox at the curb. Even on Saturday, there weren't a lot of people out and about. The landscapers handled the yard work, the pools were hidden behind privacy fences and children started and ended their journeys to activities in closed garages.

Yep, they were just one big happy family out here in the suburbs. Southerners weren't any more inclined to gossip over fences than transplanted Yankees in upscale Metropolitan Atlanta neighborhoods.

Mae pulled into Lucy's driveway two minutes later.

The front door wasn't locked and Mae didn't bother to knock, from what Jane said it wasn't likely Lucy would answer.

Mae stepped into the foyer. I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor was blaring from somewhere upstairs. "Lucy?" she called.

No answer.

Mae started up the stairs calling out every few steps and still not getting a response although the music got louder the closer she got to the source.

When she reached the second floor landing she thought she heard Lucy's drunken accompaniment to Gloria's disco tune.

She followed the trail of sound down the hall, to the master bedroom. An ancient Topsider lay in the doorway some of the stitching was loose and the sole worn thin over the ball, its mate was two feet further into the room. Next came a pair of blue jeans worn almost white, followed by a faded orange cotton tank top, a nude colored bra, and finally, in the doorway of the master bathroom, a pair of emerald green bikini panties.

"Oh my goodness," Mae whispered even as she blinked to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

Nope. That was Lucy alright. Naked. In the bathtub. With a half gallon of Moose Tracks ice cream balanced on her knees and a box of wine on the edge of the tub.

As Mae stood there gaping, Lucy finished singing the last few bars of I Will Survive and hit a button on a remote in her hand causing the song to start over again.

When the first quiet notes of the song echoed through the room, Lucy tilted her head to position her mouth under the little plastic spigot on the wine box and flipped the tab allowing pale pink wine to splash toward her mouth. Some made it in. Some dribbled off her chin, onto her shoulder and into the bathwater.

The ice cream tipped alarmingly during this maneuver but didn't fall.

After swallowing a couple mouthfuls of wine, Lucy flipped the tab closed, straightened up, scooped out a big spoonful of Moose Tracks and shoved the spoon in her mouth.

"Ah mill sufive."

"Lucy!"

Lucy dropped the spoon back into the ice cream and turned her bleary-eyed gaze on Mae. "Mae day! Hey. Whatch doin here?"

"Saving you from drowning or alcohol poisoning."

"I fine. Ne'r better."

"You're drunk."

Lucy nodded. "Yep and gonna get drunker. Deserve it. Gar left me."

"So I heard." Mae reached down and pulled the iPod out of the dock in the portable speakers Lucy had put on the bathroom floor. Silence.

"Hey!" Lucy protested.

"You need to get out of the tub," Mae said. She grabbed a large bath towel off a bar next to the tub and held it out.

"Spoilsport."

"You can bring the wine. Jane's on her way over."

"Why?"

"Because you called her and scared her half to death. She thought you were on death's door."

Lucy swam upright, putting the ice cream on the edge of the tub with the wine. "I din't call Jane." She pushed to her feet and steadied herself on the marble tile wall and held out a hand for the towel.

Mae released the towel, poised to act if it looked like Lucy was going down. "You might not remember but you did call her."

Lucy wrapped the towel around her torso and looked at the side of the tub with a puzzled frown. How the hell was she supposed to get out?

"Here," Mae said offering her a hand.

Lucy made two passes before connecting. She swayed and clutched at Mae's arm nearly dragging Mae into the tub with her. "Whoops." She locked her knees and held on for dear life.

"Maybe you should sit back down until Jane gets here," Mae said.

Lucy shook her head. "Cold. Need to get clothes on."

"Fine, use the wall to steady yourself while I move this stuff off the tub."

Lucy let go of Mae's hand and steadied herself on the wall again.

Mae moved the ice cream and the wine away from the tub. "Now just sit down and swing your legs over."

Lucy followed directions and stood up outside the tub. "Good."

"Hello? Mae? Lucy?" Jane called up from the foyer.

"Master bedroom," Mae called down to her as she led Lucy out of the bathroom.

"Don't know why you're making such a fuss," Lucy said. "I'm old, useless and probably gonna be homeless soon. I earned the right to get drunk today."

Jane stepped into the bedroom, took one look at Lucy's bleary eyes, pruney fingers and rat's nest red hair and shook her head. "Getting drunk isn't the problem. Getting drunk alone at home is."

Lucy crumpled onto the edge of her bed. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"How long were you in the tub?" Mae asked.

Lucy tried to think. Couldn't come up with an answer. "Don't know. Maybe since lunchtime?"

"You're lucky you didn't drown," Mae said.

Jane picked up the shirt Lucy had shed on her trek to the tub and wrinkled her nose. "What's that smell?"

Lucy sniffed. "Gunpowder."

"What!" Mae said.

"Is there a dead body in the house?" Jane asked.

"No," Lucy said. "Just some dead fish."

"Then the story can wait." Jane disappeared into Lucy's walk-in closet/dressing room and returned with a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. "Put these on. Then we can decide what to do next."