The shrill screech of the alarm blared five-fifteen in the morning. Dawn approached and brought with it a gentle light. A whack a-touch too rough silenced the irritant. With a sigh, I arose to take a shower and get cracking on the day. Farmer's Market day is always busy.
By five-thirty-five I was dressed in a t-shirt and jean shorts combo and out the front door. My shirt was black with my business logo stamped in white on the back and on the front, my name glittered from a pocket on the left side. I unlocked my car and double checked the contents of the cargo area to ensure all stayed in place overnight. Time was of the essence. Had to get to my cousin's house to pick her up. Jet was going to meet us at the market by seven-thirty.
Morning sun broke past the horizon to light my way. Five-forty-five, and I reached Anita Ann's to enslave her for the day as my minion. I parked by the curbside mailbox and text messaged her, I'm here.
Be right out ;)
I liked this kid. At seventeen, she possessed more poise than most twenty-five year olds. Intelligent and curious with a wonderful scientific bent, she was the kid that made me like kids. Her mom and mine were sisters, and the fact Nita and I shared chromosomal pairs undoubtedly earned her bonus points as well. Our mothers were odd, to put it nicely. Now here was someone that felt like family.
She emerged from her front door to dart across the verdant lawn and past a wall of Marguerite daisies. Clutched in her hands were two steel travel cups. She reached my ride, tucked a cup into the crook of her elbow as she popped open the door. "Are we running late?" Anita Ann handed me the elbow-warmed cup of coffee as she climbed into the Jeep. She wore cutoffs with a blue and black tank top, screen printed in the same manner as my own. The exception was that her name read "Nita" in bright pink glitter, per her request.
"Not really, but there's a lot to do with set up. And after the Chico market, we'll probably head to Corning for their evening market. It'll be busy. But with the fourth of July looming, it'll be crazy-busy and that's a good thing." I didn't reveal that chaos would reign.
"So what am I supposed to do?" She got in and buckled up.
"You can either play cashier and order taker, or you can try your hands at coloring. I packed a bunch of your practice pieces.... See how they sell. Whatever you make from them is yours to keep. They're good. You got the touch my friend."
Her warm brown eyes turned up at the edges as a smile flit across her face. "Sweet. I'm saving up for a car since I got accepted to UC Davis. How much are we charging?"
"That's awesome! Congrats!" My cousin is brilliant and may only awesome things await her in adulthood. I got around to answering her question. "Twelve for shirts, twenty for custom. The small silk paintings are fifteen, big ones thirty-five and the quilts have the prices tagged on them. You don't need to worry about prices so much if you're playing cashier. The program on the laptop is a point and click thingie that has it all pre-programmed. Just scan, bag and print receipt. The credit card reader is pretty easy to use too. Just swipe the card after checking ID and let the computer take care of it all. Do not run a card without verifying the name matches on both cards and the picture looks like the person paying for things."
I turned onto the Bayliss road. "Okay, I need your opinion on something, Nita. And you can't tell anyone." Velvety green rice fields surrounded us. Heron and crane stood in the midst and poached bugs. Red tailed hawks topped the rural power lines, awaiting their next meal to dart across the paved dinner table.
For a moment she reminded me of Jet with her open anticipation of a secret to hoard. "Promise. Pinky swear, even."
In a flash my mother came to mind and with it the deal. "No need to pinky swear... that just gets people in trouble." I took a deep breath. "Dmitri proposed to me."
She squealed. High pitched, too. "Tell me!" The high octave wiped any remnants of sleep from my brain.
"During dinner at The Gillispie Plantation House." The remainder would be the stuff of legends within the family for years to come. Nita would hear the gory details sooner or later— but not from me. "Okay, so he told me to pick a date... well... I'm thinking autumn. Specifically Halloween... but not a costumed thing. At midnight." Dmitri's incessant insistence for a date had done as intended. Fine. He now will have a date to get all giddy about.
"Ooooh, that sounds so cool! Where is it going to be?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm torn between two places... on one hand, there's Vegas. No Elvis impersonators... but something just decadent and where all I have to do is pick out the invites, cake, dress and guest-list and let someone else handle all the aggravating details. You would not believe some of the people I've worked with when I dyed the dresses for their wedding party. Completely stressed, screeching at people on the phone... yeah. No thanks. I'm okay with designating hair-pulling to someone else." Except my mother. "The other option is at The Aquarium, in front of the Wide Expanses exhibit window. Can you imagine? Silhouetted against bright blue? Sharks and turtles swimming around? That's the very decadent choice. And by the way, Dmitri has no clue. I'm looking to totally wow him."
Nita sat silent. "Go with The Aquarium. I'm too young to fully appreciate Vegas anyhow. And I'm so going to be at your wedding. Plus it's closer. Dmitri footing the bill, because, wow. You can do that? Get hitched there?"
If I had my way, I'd foot it all myself. But life didn't work out quite as I had hoped. "Yeah, one can if one has the funds for such things. His parents offered us carte blanche with wedding planning as a gift." Evidently, largesse is a traditional Croatian wedding custom. "We're going to run everything by them just in case they think it's too much... but I suspect whatever Dmitri wants, he'll get. They are beyond thrilled that he's doing something traditional. By their schedule, he should have been married at least five years ago and have three children by now. To them, this is a big step in the right direction. They'll be flying in from Croatia when it's time for the shindig with his brother Ifan and his wife, Aishana. They plan on renting an RV, drive to New York City for some sight-seeing and fly back to Europe from there."
I was of two minds when it came to the subject of the wedding and Dmitri's parents. They were eager for him to get married and start a family. Dmitri had not told them that I am unable to bear children... and children were something his parents wanted from him very badly. I wanted him to tell them the reality of the situation. I don't want them to feel cheated out of potential grandkids because they wanted to pay for his wedding to someone they didn't know was sterile.
The other potentially worrisome factor involved Dmitri turning his back on tradition to live the "American Dream", which included severing some serious ties to the family company. Although Dmitri said his father was okay with it now... I wouldn't blame him if resentment lingered. There were times I wished the Croatian language came naturally to me so I'd know what the heated discussions over the phone were about.
"Well, if they are making the trip all the way from where ever it is they are from, might as well give them a show."
"That's what I'm thinking. I can't think of anything more jaw-dropping." Ifan got married at Notre-Dame des Nice. I saw photographs of elegant grandeur. So while Dmitri was no longer the Golden Child and Scion, I wanted to show that I could think sophisticated and plan festivities on an elegant level.
I'm two generations off the mountain. A chick from a tiny podunk town in Northern California. I've traveled a little in my time, but I not a world traveler by any means. I'm not from wealthy stock. His parents never met me, and I didn't know if being a purebred American Mutt would be considered a strike against me in addition to being unable to spawn bratlings of my own. The way I figured it, if they don't like me because I make their son happy, then it's a good thing they live on the other side of the world so they don't have to witness his childless bliss.
At the moment thoughts bubbled in my mind at the potential of an elegant aquatic endeavor. The first big hurdles of wedding planning nailed. "I can't wait to break it to Dmitri. And I wanted to ask if you would like to be my bridesmaid. You're too old to be a flower girl. You game, young one?"
"Duh! Like you even have to ask. I'd be thrilled! Who is going to be your maid of honor? What color will I suffer through?" She grinned.
"Silvery-lavender. Jet is the Maid of Honor, she'll wear purple. You'll like her. She's exotic. And I'm going to wear indigo... and only the flowers will be white."
"Exotic? Like freak show sort of exotic or more of a not from around here type?"
"The latter with a touch of the former." I grinned at mildly wide-eyed look on Nita's face. "She's a librarian. Children's section. She's more bark than bite."
Her expression relaxed at the mention of Jet's current version of hell. "Oh, well okay then. And when I get married, I'm stealing that idea. White weddings are a recent thing anyhow. Its from when Queen Victoria got married, she set the trend for wearing a white dress. Traditional was whatever the best dress the bride had. It's kinda neat how something so minor as a fashion choice can snowball into something multiple cultures now call 'tradition.' I'm glad you are doing something so like you. I got a question though. Isn't silvery-lavender too close to white? What about teal?"
I smiled wide at my young cousin. She possesses much potential, indeed. "I see your point. Plus with the triangular fibers that makes up silk, teal would give a purple cast. It'd be like a peacock tail. You have your wish. Teal for you."
We drove past flooded rice fields, almond and olive orchards to Chico and made our way through the maze of one-way downtown streets to the market site. I drove to my spot and parked beneath a great maple tree. The Farmer's Market took up a healthy portion of a parking lot behind a strip mall, and it was already crowded with vehicles setting up for the eight o'clock rush.
Nita and I exited the vehicle, walked to the backside and popped open the cargo door. In tandem we reached in to pull out the easy-up canopy. Forty-three pounds of shade plopped onto its carrying-case wheels with a thunk. After wresting it out of the case she and I started erecting it. Luckily it was as advertised, simple to set up. Two people on diagonal sides pull outwards until the canopy extends, then push up on the legs to lengthen them. Voila. Next out were the poles for hanging clothing items. A secret I learned the first summer of participating in the Farmer's Markets around here was that the easiest way to set up was to pack the cargo area in order of whats needed. It made things faster and smoother, which means that more time was spent selling than setting up.
Then came the merchandising. Dmitri rigged up a hanging system of small diameter pvc pipes with wooden dowels through the center to keep them from bending under the weight of dozens of t-shirt, Hawaiian shirt, dresses and baby-clothes clad hangers. The poles suspended by chain with wire woven through for added strength from another pole suspended by S-Hooks from the canopy's frame. Folding tables held dyed silk scarves and baskets containing small yardages of various colors with the intention of quilt-making. At the back of my booth, two tables set up in an L shape. Here was the heart of my operation.
Plastic tote-bins of white clothing hid under the tables. A five-gallon bucket held the fixer solution, the lid firmly in place with a pair of black gloves waiting atop. A smaller tote with a plastic-coated wire mesh insert six inches aloft from the bottom served as the dyebox. All my colors were arranged in a rainbow of large squeeze bottles in narrow boxes that kept them from tipping over if a hand accidentally knocked them askew. Clear plastic sheeting covered the tabletop and the ground under my feet. Nita helped me set up the water-jug; a thirteen-gallon camping supply special with its own stand and a five gallon bucket beneath to catch any drips.
Towards the front of the booth lurked the netbook, mini-printer and credit card scanner atop a small folding table with a matching chair. A cord from the power inverter snaked up from the table to a small solar panel held atop the canopy with hook and eye tape. The solar panel juiced a power converter which shared the wealth of electricity to the electronics. Under the table lurked a few boxes of plastic grocery bags for bagging purchases, fliers and the hidden cash box. Finally, the beast came alive.
Nita went on a mission in my car to fetch caffeine, being that it was seven-thirty-five and Jet had yet to make her appearance. I stood in the booth, fastening tie-dyed bandanas to the back canvas wall as samples of styles and color choices for the custom tie-dye. With that last chore completed, I looked around my well-organized booth and sat down at my little pseudo-register. With all the implementation Dmitri supplied for a quick set up, he should be here to witness how quickly it worked. He'd be proud.
A tangle of smells kissed my nose. Rose and Patchouli, Lilac and Musk. Cinnamon Apple, Sandalwood and Lemon Balm. I moved my head and sniffed the air like a hound, trying to decipher the scents and their location. I jumped in the air when I realized someone was standing right behind me.
"Ha ha! One day, Grasshopper, you too will know how to move like a ghost. How I never tire of the sight of your pavilion dedicated to clown puke." Jet held a large box in her arms. Up until now, Jet's participation consisted of order taking and cashier. She liked to sit pretty up at the front, flirt with guys and get some sales that way. So for her to be hugging a heavily scented box as if it were a long-lost first child was a bit out of character.
"Perhaps, Wise One. What do you have hoarded in your treasure box? The severed remains of an ex who pissed you off one time too many?" My curiosity was stoked. "Do we need to go dig a hole out at the gravel pits for an impromptu funeral? My cousin can play Taps on her trumpet."
"Nope. My great contribution to this Temple of Hippie you constantly erect. I can't believe I didn't think of this before... it's so perfect in its irony. Tie-Dye and Incense. It's like peas and carrots, Romeo and Juliet, Jerry Garcia and weed. Tell me I am not brilliant. Inform me of my flaws. I'm ready."
It was brilliant. Open flames were banned from the Farmer's Market, but to have the scents mingle and dance to tease one's olfactory sense when checking out could prove to be an experiment of sorts. The appeal of finding out if it would sell lingered in the air, like the smorgasbord of scents emanating from the box clutched still in Jet's bare arms. "You're modest too. It is a marvelous idea... but what exactly are we looking at?"
She set the box upon the now vacated folding chair and opened it to bare the insides. Her hand dove down and pulled up a little wooden displays with tubes sticking out the backside. Jet reverently set it upon the table. Like a duck in water, the hand dove back into the box's depths and brought forth a bag containing smaller bags of bundled incense sticks. Two layers of plastic did little to shield the scents contained within. Jet tore the plastic bag open and put the freed sticks into the display. Some incense burners got a little home on top of the wooden temple of scent. Beneath, long zip-topped baggies for customers to stash their sticks in. A grand hand-flourish later and she stepped away from her handiwork.
"Two dollars for a dozen sticks. That's about a thousand sticks of scented heaven. You are looking at about one-hundred-fifty percent mark up for a profit. Happy early birthday, Kaylis."
"Wow. What made you come up with that idea?"
"Hanging out with your mom."
Oh.
She continued on in conversation after noting my facial acknowledgment of my mother being her muse. "So where's little miss bridesmaid? Can we haze her? Just a little?" Jet clasped her hands beneath her chin and gave me the puppy dog look. "Pwetty pweese?"
"She's on a coffee run. Want something? I can text her."
She dropped the hazing idea with the mention of caffeine. "Yeah, a blended mocha with whip."
I sent a text message. Got a reply in short order. Lucky, I'm waiting in line at the kiosk now. Can do.
"Your coffee has been ordered. And no, we can't haze her, for she brings us coffee. It's bad enough she has a mother much like mine. Can't that be considered a lifelong hazing? You ever met my Aunt Daisy? She's like Willow, but happily married. I'm not sure how she ended up with a kid like Nita. You'll like her. She's a Fact Geek like you."
"That is a likeable quality." Jet pirouetted and asked "What do you think?" as she stopped and struck a pose, Betty Page bangs bounced. Today she sported hot pink and magenta streaks in her hair. The "man lure" for today's fishing expedition included a purple and black tie-dyed cropped halter top that showed off her abdomen and a pair of jean shorts that barely straddled her hips to cover her ass. God help the world if she had to bend over. Stripper shoes completed her ensemble.
"I'm glad you don't dress like that in the village. You'd be burned as a heretic."
"A sexy heretic. Maybe you can applique a crimson A for Awesome to my top. Free advertisement, ya know? I'm going to chart how many sales I get based on gender. Wager a good percentage will be men."
I rolled my eyes. "You do realize that you'd have to do a chart over the long term and another one as a control with you in neutral clothing to make your study valid, right? Oh, did you remember to slather your tats with sunscreen? If you haven't, I've got some in the glove box of the Jeep." Nita needed to return. I required sunscreen before the sun crept toward its zenith. Just thinking about the sun full-strength on a bared strip of skin got me twitchy. Itchy hives with a nausea and migraine chaser is what the unfiltered sunlight does to me. Ain't pretty.
Realization hit that Jet sported a new tattoo. Until fairly recently, her torso was devoid of ink because most of her tattoos were on her upper arms, shoulder, ankles, feet, calves, ass-crack and right above her breasts. Now a gold, red and purple phoenix arose from a tiny fire situated above her navel. The tail, almost peacock-like, spread over her ribcage to wrap around to her back. It was quite pretty. "When did you get that one done?"
"About a month ago. It's still a little scabby, but I think it's awesome. Thirteen hours. Total adrenaline rush, let me tell you. I found the design in a book about Persian legends. And it's fitting. When life throws a personal catastrophe at one, one arises from the wreckage a new person. Hopefully a bit wiser from the experience. Ever count how many times you've risen from the flames, Kaykay?"
Not even eight yet, and she waxed philosophical. "I need my coffee before I think of the flames. I need more caffeine to sustain thought."
Minutes ticked closer to eight, when the market officially opened for business. Potential customers mingled in singles or small clumps to peruse offerings at each booth. To the left of me, a grandmother who crocheted and sewed dolls and stuffed animals.
When business got slow, she would inevitably move her folding chair closer to her side of the booth next to my dye station. Lenora's gray eyes would watch every movement my hands made when I'd work on dye orders. And all the while, she'd run her gums about the lucky blokes she met at the local dive bar, not three blocks away, and the shenanigans she got herself into whilst drunk. Her first husband died in a car accident, her second when indulging in a cocktail of Portuguese Diesel and over the counter sleep meds. Thus nowadays she preferred to love 'em and leave 'em, as it is for their own good.
To the right, a gent who carved animals and figurines from found wood. His driftwood birdhouses were quite popular, and I occasionally made deals with him on behalf of my mother. She liked birds in her permaculture experiment and tended to buy in bulk to furnish her fetish. He liked meade to furnish his fetish for renaissance fairs in the off-season. Two gallons of meade got Willow sixteen of Dane Ragnar's beautiful birdhouses for her backyard jungle.
Jet sat in the folding chair, smiling to passersby. I stood at my dye station, getting primed for the flow of traffic to come through. Being busy dyeing things catches the attention of potential customers. So I started dyeing some handkerchiefs that would get used as quilt blocks for a project down the line. Each of the fabric squares would have hearts in the center. Being that the material I chose for this project was a hemp and silk blend, the colors would be rich and saturated with the cellulose fibers. The silken threads would only absorb a portion of the procion dyes I had on hand, and would offer a sheen of contrast within the fabric itself. Blues on silk come out more purplish, blacks go green. Rinsing these after the dye got exhausted would be like opening presents on Christmas morning.
On the table without the dye box, I laid out the hankie and folded it in half. With a fading fabric pen, I drew half a heart. This one would be big and poufy. When that was done, I began to pinch-fold tiny pleats on the disappearing line. One must keep the folds in a straight line to make the design really strong, and I secured the folds very tightly with a rubber band. It got chucked into the bucket of fixer to soak.
A dozen hankies met that fate as people began to explore my pavilion of colorful offerings. Anita Ann arrived, coffee cups huddled in a tray.
"Here you go, an Executioner." She foisted my blended drink of white mocha, espresso and raspberry syrup over. The best is when the raspberry addition was light, just a touch more than a hint. This beverage was perfect. Nita handed Jet the blended mocha, and from the looks of it, my young bridesmaid got herself a blended chocolate chai. It didn't take long for Nita to do a double-take in Jet's general direction.
Jet stood at the little table holding her scented contribution. In one hand, her mocha with the whip cream already stirred into the drink. In the other hand, a wand of incense waved before her upturned nose, green eyes closed as she enjoyed the odoriferous wind blowing her way. I can't say she 'sniffed' the air, as that is too delicate a word for the porcine snorting coming from her general vicinity. Anita Ann looked to me, as I looked to her. My face, painted with a bemused I have no fucking clue why she's doing that, but that's Jet for you look said it all to Nita.
The kid had moxie, I'll give her that. "Is that a Seal for the Guild of Calamitous Intent tattoo?" A circle with a wyvern atop a globe served as my best friend's tramp stamp.
Incense stopped and Jet's eyes opened as she turned around to face Nita. "A fan of the Bros are you, wee'en?"
Nita smiled like an imp. "I thought it was wrong to kill off Hank's strength suit, imagine what Moltov could have achieved with it."
Little did Nita know that my bestie Cos-played as Molotov Coqtise from Venture Brothers for Halloween a few years back. Jet turned to address me. "You were right, I do like her." She turned and spoke to Nita again. "Yeah, that was jacked. They should have killed off Hatred instead. He's due for a non-grazing bullet for his uncle Touchy McFeely ways."
I watched Nita's eyes widen as she took in all of Jet's ink. As the Great Jetnia once told me, each tattoo represented a chapter in her life. Starting at her right foot from the base of a giant padma flower, a jasmine vine wound all the way to above her knee. Sprinkled throughout were plumeria, moon orchid and lotus blossoms with bees and butterflies hidden among the foliage. A blue and purple hummingbird fed on an orchid just under her kneecap. That, I was told, represented her roots in Indonesia.
On her left upper arm, a zodiac wheel. On the right upper arm, her natal wheel. Between her tatas, the cosmos danced. Nebulae, binary star systems, planets... even an asteroid belt, on a deep bluish black that faded upward to her collar bone. And on her shoulders, torn dragonfly wings in purple and green.
None of the tattoos were offensive; rather they were colorful pieces of art upon the paper of her skin. The inkwork served to make a neon arrow point right at Jet for being the flamboyant peahen she was. Bright nails and streaked hair only highlighted the obvious.
Anita Ann turned to me and said in a dead pan voice, "Gee, Cuz. You weren't joking about the exotic factor."
Jet laughed. "Exotic is a nice way of saying I stick out wherever I go."
I retorted, "That's because being 'normal' is the worst thing one could ever inflict upon you. More heinous than than disembowelment."
"That too. Horrific. Can you imagine a Californian Amityville Horror? That's me, attempting to be so-called normal. I prefer to be Abby Normal. With graffiti."
The Executioner resided on the now-vacated workbench as I turned my attention to the bucket containing soda ash fixer and tied handkerchiefs. With a smirk, I donned the elbow-length black rubber mad scientist gloves. "Hey Jet, when's the last time you saw one of these?"
"Last time I had my prostate checked."
Nita snickered.
"Should we incorporate a codpiece a part of your Maid of Honor gown? Could be snazzy, start off a new trend."
"Oh yeah. Can we do A Clockwork Orange for a theme? Wear fake lashes on one eye and padded codpieces. And you can do your lines in a cockney accent. 'Do you take this droog for a wee bit of ultra-matrimony?' It could work. Now that'd be original. Classy too, with the accents. Think Dmitri can ditch the Eastern European slur and mimic a Brit?"
"That'd be scary, is what that would be." No Kubrikesque weddings, thank you. Way too close to Trekkie Country and Reaver Territory.
"But Cousin, you said you wanted a Halloween wedding. You can hand out fake eyelashes to everyone as the wedding favor."
I find it scary how much Willow's voice came out of Nita's mouth.
Addressed Jet as I squeezed out the fixing solution from the hankies and set them on the table next to the plastic dye station. "See what you've done? You've tainted my baby cousin, you reprobate. She was all for my elegant aquatic endeavor until you pipe up with your corrupting ways."
Jet rolled her eyes. "Whatever floats your boat. She's your relative, which means she's jaded and corrupted from genetic factor alone. Has nothing to do with me, you said so yourself." She faced Nita. "Sorry, kid. You're screwed." She turned to me again. "What's the elegant aquatic endeavor? A boat in the bay? Ooh tell me you want to get married at Alcatraz. Please let there be stripes involved."
"Think less wind and more sharks."
Nita smiled while Jet looked puzzled and asked. "More sharks?"
"Think Wide Expanses at The Aquarium." It was Jet's photography of the facility that inspired the thought. Next to books and her cat, layman marine biology catches her fancy. Fairly positive that living on an island helped to contribute to her interest in swimmy things.
"That would be exquisite. Kudos, Kaylis. That has a lot of potential." Jet focused her attention on the customer browsing some silk-painted Hawaiian shirts.
I lost myself in a brightly colored tie-dyed world as Jet and Nita handled customers. Between them, they knew the principles and mechanics of the arts to offer explanations for the curious. Every now and again someone would order a custom dyed shirt and they got to see firsthand how it was done. After the application of dye, I popped the bundle into a grocery bag, stapled shut with a small plastic baggie containing a pair of latex-free gloves, instructions and a small bottle of synthropal.
When the shirt finished curing, the customer gets to don the gloves to rinse out and untie their purchase. They get a thrill to have a part in its creation and consequently, word of mouth advertisement is a nice side effect. In a town of liberal college hippies, tie-dye always sold. And because our nation's Independence Day was nigh upon us, red and blue dyes were doubly stocked. Good thing, too.
Business started off fast and stayed brisk. The pace picked up to the point that Nita would help do custom orders while Jet kept an eagle eye on customers and played cashier. Her scented idea was a good one, if the decreasing volume of sticks in the display indicated anything. When things slowed down, Nita made herself useful in greeting people poking through the hangers of clothing. Her best technique was asking a potential customer what dye pattern they liked best. Anita Ann honed in for the kill by pointing out the various colors of that style. Every now and again, especially if the customer happened to be male, Jet would pipe up with how such and such color set off a feature, like eyes or hair.
Those two were thresher sharks circling inside the booth.
Once or twice, I took stock of the market's traffic volume. Very busy, every time I looked. I thought I saw Mike's Impala twice driving down Main Street, but being that it's a college town, beat up cars are pretty common. I hoped it wasn't Mike. It'd be nice to know he's back in the bay area, far away from here. Far away from me.
The flow went unimpeded until around noon when the heat upon parking lot blacktop made waves in the air. People tend to prefer air conditioning over sun burns. Today's high hovered around one-hundred-five. In a parking lot, the heat seems to go up exponentially.
Right before we were about to send Nita off to fetch lunch and copious amounts of cold beverages, the groove entered the Realm of Fucked Up-- close neighbor and ally to the Land of Awkward.
As I saturated the rayon gown with magenta, purple and black, Jet's voice started talking about the different resists used in silk painting as an answer to a customer's query. The voice asking the questions sounded vaguely familiar. Husky and feminine. My fingers worked the dye into the folds, and I kept my ears perked, trying to place that voice.
Finally when I couldn't resist any more, I glanced up and quickly looked back down. I kept my face down, hoping she didn't see me. She dressed like it was 1997. Black tank top with flared jeans. Heels. Black Watch plaid flannel shirt tied around her waist. Her hair in artfully arranged curls to her rear-end and the full makeup on her face melted under the summer sun like a candle left on a sidewalk.
Lorryn Wilhemina Clairbeck.
Granted, Chico isn't a large city by any means, but I didn't expect to run into her. Oh well. Bite the bullet, I suppose. Sigh.
Then, Jet's voice said quite distinctly, "Yep, the artist is right back there, working as we speak."
Deep-cleansing sigh. Maybe she won't recognize me.
Yeah, as if life is that kind and gentle a mistress.
I kept my face down and focused on creating. Getting paid to make the dress look neat, not messed up because Drama Incarnate manifested herself.
"Hi... you make all these?"
"Yep." I looked up with the customer-service face I learned to cultivate years ago. Lorryn looked at the colorful offerings surrounding her like butterflies in a meadow before finally settling her gaze on me.
Wide brown eyes looked into mine, a little quirk on her brow. Her head tilted to the side like a kitten pondering something twitchy.
"Oh my lord Jesus, is that you, Kay Woods?" She bounced in place like an epileptic rabbit. "Oh honey, I thought I'd never see you again! I didn't know you moved back to the valley! Oh my lord, let's get lunch! Right now!" This Christian-y side was new. So was the tweaked-out squirrel energy emanating from her. Last time she and I were 'friends', Lorryn walked a fine line between chola and goth girl.
"Nice to see you too, Lorryn." God didn't strike me down from that polite lie. Although a glance past Lorryn revealed Jet with a bug-eyed expression. "I can't bounce out, it's my booth, can't really delegate to anyone because it's my name on the paperwork. Should anything happen, it's my responsibility. But thanks for the offer." But oh hell no.
One could see the mental hamster running on its wheel as Lorryn changed tactics. "So what are you doing these days?"
I waved my latex-sheathed hand about. "This, mainly. Took my schooling in textile arts and am making a living off of it. Doing the booth and I've got a friend helping with a website so I can nail that avenue as well. I also do classes at the Rec Department and private lessons." I focused on my work. Since she identified me, no need to be particularly sociable or terribly rude. Work hours. and time is money.
"Oh, that's great. Good for you, honey. Still single?" Her voice intoned that I should at least be single and a card-holding certified spinster cat lady by now.
Lorryn always liked to have a guy on a leash. I witnessed a broken-hearted train of boy toys before she even moved down to Sacramento. She was lost without male adoration. "No, I'm seeing someone. Long term, too." Lorryn's expression went from vaguely interested to very interested.
Jet piped up, the eavesdropping tart. "She's actually engaged to get married."
Customer Service Zen. Telling Jet with a look that her participation in the conversation was unneeded, unwanted, and that she should shut the hell up wouldn't be appropriate at this time. Although I'm sure that wrinkle Jet claimed as her own made its appearance by now as a banner of my irked nature.
Lorryn clasped her hands together in glee. "You're getting married? Oh, let me throw you a bachelorette party! It'll be great. Maybe around a theme, like Kitchen Fun. I sell Spoiled Sous Chef now. I can get you a great deal. Or if you want, I also sell Avignon Cosmetics. Cooking and primping, how's that for a girlie party idea? Hey! Have room for another bridesmaid?" Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.
Oh, Crazy person. Does she not recall that she stopped talking to me because Dmitri and I reconnected six years ago? She literally wrote me off as being a whore for finding out about Dmitri's decade-long wait to apologize and her role in the situation. She hated me. Blamed me for breaking her and Dmitri up, although they were already done with when she tried setting me up with him back in the day. And now, back to everything is peachy keen? It's obvious that she didn't know about Dmitri and I getting and staying together. Maybe bygones are bygones. But somehow, I seriously doubt it. My spidey-senses were a-tingling.
"My Maid of Honor already has something planned, but thanks for the offer." I didn't respond to the bridesmaid question. I couldn't think of a nice way to tell her no; not because she's Dmitri's ex girlfriend and my ex friend, and not because she asked out of the blue, as if we were still buddies. I wanted to tell her no because she tried to keep Dmitri and I from talking and reconnecting. Seemed asinine to invite, let alone, permit a person who did that, to a wedding.
Jet piped up. "The only Chef I want to see at the bachelorette party is a hunky stripper wearing a g-string and a toque blanche, wooden spoon in hand. I'll spoil him good." She winked and clicked her tongue. "There's something hot about a man who knows his way around the kitchen. Oh, Gordon Ramsey, how I lust for thee..."
"Sounds fun to me." Nita lent her two cents. When she saw my expression, she hastened to add, "I'll be eighteen by then. Stop scowling at me, Kay. I want to see male strippers, dammit. Don't deny me my youth and hormones and stuff. You were once young. You can remember that, right?"
''My... goodness." Looked like Lorryn didn't know what to make of it. Me, with a man? Maybe she had a micro-stroke or something. It'd explain the oddness that poured from her lips. "So you're getting married, that's great. I just got divorced. Let me tell you, Divorce Cake tastes a hundred times better than Wedding Cake. Mine had the groom sitting in a dumpster of fondant and marzipan. I bit that son of a gun's head off. Literally. Best bakery in all of South Carolina does a fabulous red velvet cake with Nutella filling. You must try it sometime."
I imagine the bakery and/or the relationship represented in pastry cream has something to do with the taste of cake. But alrighty. I do agree that divorce is a good thing, especially if it is a toxic relationship. "Good to know. So you lived in the South and moved back here?" Magenta got squirted on the bundle in abundance.
"Oh yes, bought a little house with some acres out of Forest Ranch with my divorce settlement." She smiled. "My ex was in the Navy. It's amazing what I could get from that cheating bastard by grabbing his balls." Lorryn gestured with a little wave of her hand. "Your man ever gives you issues, you take my advice and go for his balls. Make him cry like a little girl and get everything you want." She clenched her fist around some imaginary testicles dangling before her face for emphasis. "It's empowering to nail a man's nuts to a stump and kick him over backwards for his own stupidity. He never should married a paralegal."
Try as I might, I couldn't keep my eyebrows from raising. This was a very different and somewhat disturbing new incarnation of Lorryn. "Thanks for the advice."
I smushed the bound rayon dress a few times and got rewarded with gushy-wet sounds, then popped it in a grocery bag with the take home kit. Leaned over the table and handed the package to the woman waiting patiently. When she goes to rinse and untie, she'll discover mirrored spirals of black and purple beneath the bust that will accent the waist, with a magenta heart-shaped bodice. The point of the heart nestled between the twin vortexes of color.
It'll rock.
"Well, you remember it. Here, let me give you my number. Call me sometime when you can touch base more. Lunch or something." Lorryn snatched one of my fliers off the table behind her and dug a chewed-up ballpoint pen from the bowels of her purse. Ten seconds of chicken scratch later and I found myself holding her phone number and email address. She pulled out her cell to gaze at the screen for a moment. "I must go, my boyfriend is waiting at Casa y Cochina for margaritas and nachos. Gimme a call tonight, okay?"
After a fake smile and wee nod from me, she was gone.
Jet left her post and came towards me. Hands on hips. "That who I think it was?"
"Yup." I looked to Jet with a bemused expression on my face. Raised my hand with the flier up. "What do you make of this?" Lorryn's adept use of the Shock and Awe tactic never ceased to amaze me.
"No fucking way. Can I sing It's a Small World? And obviously, she wants girly time with you, just like in the old days. Ooh yeah. Fun! Maybe you guys can paint each other's toenails and do your hair, then gossip about boys. But only the cute ones you both screwed."
"Way fucking way," I replied. "And no, please don't sing. Today has been traumatic enough." Lorryn didn't look much different than she did ten years ago. Her cheeks had slight hallows that highlighted a delicate chin. But her eyes were what got me. The light of a zealot shined within her soul's window.
Then again, perhaps my bias is imagining things.
"You're telling me that she hasn't seen you in years and wants to sell your friends cooking supplies and cosmetics as a bachelorette party? Are we to clutch our pearls, too?"
"Looks that way, doesn't it?" I gotta tell Dmitri about this. I mean, what the hell... still completely blown away. "Last time she and I spoke was right after he apologized to me... she said, and I quote, 'You stole him from me then, you stole him from me now! I hate you! Hope you fucking die, whore....' And she meant it. At least at the time."
"And now she wants to cut you a deal with cooking supplies and lipstick. Nice. She related to Norman Bates?"
Nita's head swung from Jet and myself as we spoke in hushed awe. "Who was that and why are you two acting so weird?"
"Little One," Jet began, "that was what we like to call a Crazy Bitch." She made her way to Nita, wrapped an arm around the youngster and began educating my cousin to the ways of Deliri Canis Femina.
Jet pointed a finger in my direction. "Once upon a time, when your cousin was just your age, she met a guy. Through that Crazy Bitch. Yon Crazy One never got over the fact Dmitri liked Kaylis more than her crazy ass. And since that discovery, has tried more than once to separate those two lovebirds. Jealous bitch, ya know."
Nita's jaw dropped and she turned to face me. "So, she knows both you and Dmitri?"
I nodded. "She used to date him."
"And there's high-school drama in that quarter? Still?" Her eyebrows aimed for the stratosphere.
Again, I nodded. "She threw an epic tizzy fit when he apologized to me for breaking up back in high school. I mean, epic." Although not as legendary as when she scammed a bunch of money from him in high school on the pretense of getting an abortion. I'm still incredulous Dmitri forgave her for that stunt.
Anita Ann began to laugh. "That's hilarious. That is funny in a really messed up way. And Jet told her you were getting married. Good thing she didn't ask who the groom was!" Nita tried wiping the smile off her face. "And here I was thinking that life got boring after academics. Thank you, Big Cuz for showing me differently."
Jet caught my eye. "What you looking at?" She was smirking for no good reason. I wanted to know why.
"You. And Wee'en is right. It is funny in a fucked-up way. Was so hoping she was going to ask if it was someone she knew. You shouldn't have said her name. I would have stayed quiet." She mockingly shook her head at me. "Shame on you, Kaylis. You shouldn't make it so easy."
"You're evil. Like cloven-hoof and pointy-horns evil." Well, a fuzzier version of that, but I wouldn't tell her such a thing.
A bright smile split Jet's face. "No, darling. I'm just mean."
"Wow." I was still in a state of utter bewilderment. "Wow wow wow. You know who needs to hear about this?" I dug into my pocket and pulled out my cell and dialed Dmitri.
Jet and Nita huddled closer to me as they heard the ringing via speakerphone. Didn't take long before Dmitri answered. The sound of people talking in the background and a voice over an intercom filtered through the earpiece.
"Heya babe. How's it going?"
"It goes …. interesting. Got news for you."
"Good news?" At his query, Jet and I locked eyes. She smiled her shit-eating grin of glee.
"Mostly." Diplomacy rocks.
"What's good?" He sounded curious.
"I picked a date and location." Figured I'd ease him in gently. "Now you can let your folks know."
"Really?" Dmitri sounded very surprised. "When and where?"
"The Aquarium at Crescenta Bay. Halloween of next year. Contingency plan is Las Vegas. One of the nicer hotel-casinos. Like the non-cheesy Italian Renaissance one."
A pause long enough to get mildly uncomfortable made its appearance. "Halloween?"
"Not costumed." Although gilded Venetian Carnival masks do have a certain allure... Hmmm, maybe for the reception, a Masqued Ball. "Still the jewel tones and flowing silk idea from before, just under the sea in a non-mermaid way on a night made for dressing up. You get to be my candy."
He laughed. "Just a thought... I know it's going to sound weird, but if you wanted to incorporate mermaids, that'd be okay, as long as it's not The Little Mermaid."
I looked to my Maid of Honor and Bridesmaid, puzzled. Half-naked lady fish never struck me as being something he'd be into. "Really? You'd like mermaids worked into the theme?"
"My family's coat of arms is a gold mermaid on a black background. Three silver ships at the top in a stripe of blue. I'm not opposed to mermaids in general due to that influence."
Good to know. Will have to brainstorm some possibilities. "So... what do you think? Is it too much?"
"I want to see The Aquarium for myself before I decide. But I like the idea of it."
"What about your parents? Will they be okay with either of those venues?" I waited on pins and needles for about ten seconds before he answered.
"Yeah, I think they'd be into it. After all, my family's livelihood comes from the sea. It's different for sure. I'm sure they don't care where the wedding is held, as long as it ends up with me married."
Cool. When his parents give the okay, I'll start making some calls. Adrenaline shot through me as the excitement of wedding planning baby steps hit. Then I braced myself. "Are you ready for the not-as-good news?"
"You mean there's more?"
Infamous words, my friend.
"You will never in a hundred years guess who I just spoke to, not even five minutes ago."
"Bryant? He was supposed to meet me at Costco for party supplies. Do we need more toilet paper?"
"Nope. Still have almost half a monster-sized pack already. Anyhow, guess again."
"Can't be Wiley. Uh... I have no idea."
"I'll give you a hint. You used to refer to her as the Ice Bitch." Nita softly gaped and laughed. Jet put a hand over her mouth to stymie the sound.
Silence. "She's no longer on the East coast?" Shit, I didn't even know that she left California until the nutjob mentioned her divorce. How did he know she went Eastward?
"No. Divorced with a settlement. She wanted to take me out to lunch."
"Shut up. No way. Lunch?" He laughed. Full out laughed. "She'd probably try to drown you in the ranch dressing vat at the salad bar. Hope you declined."
"Oh I did. But Dmitri, that's not the best part."
"Tell me the best part."
"She said if I were to ever have any issues with you, I should use my hand as a vice-grip on your junk and get my way with the divorce. Make you cry like a little girl. There was also something mentioned about nails, nuts and a stump, too. Evidently, that's the tactics she uses for negotiations these days."
"I'm speechless. You mentioned me by name told her about us? She pissed at me still?"
"No, I didn't mention you by name... figured that would be a little too much drama for today. You were referred to only as 'my man'. She's changed. A lot."
"Well, we've all changed a lot over the years. It happens." He let out a long whistle. "Wow, what a small world."
"That's what Jet said."
He changed the subject on me. "So Halloween of next year, at an aquarium."
I interrupted. "Specifically in front of the Wide Expanses exhibit. Sharks, turtles, tuna and sunfish as a backdrop. Go Google it, you'll love it."
"Copy. Is there anything we need before I hit the checkout?"
"You got plenty of briquettes for our porky guest of honor?"
"Yeah. Thirty pounds should be sufficient."
I scoured my mind. "Extra napkins, bottled water and soda?"
"No on napkins, but that's two isles away."
"You picked up fresh fruit? And at least one big red apple?"
"Yep. Champagne too, for the toast."
"Okay. What about sparkling cider for the young ones? Otherwise, I think we're good. I'll be home after we pack up at two. It's too hot and I need air conditioning. When do you and Wiley go to play Piggy Sniper?"
"After I drop this stuff off at home. He's looking at me right now. I'm sure he's going to give me shit for the mermaid thing."
I heard Wiley's husky voice in the background, "I am now. Got no choice."
Jet mouthed, "I like him."
I rolled my eyes. She likes men, period. "Okay, hun. I'm gonna go. I'll see you tonight after you're done playing Mighty Hunter."
"Sounds good babe. Love you."
"Love you too."
I hung up and said to no one in particular, "Well, he took that better than I thought he would."
"That's because the freak out will happen when you don't expect it. Be prepared for weird behavior. Oooh the thought of his ex and his fiancée getting together must send shivers down his spine." Jet looked mildly amused. "So glad I don't have that issue."
I'm sure.
A deep breath later and I noticed that most vendors were taking down their canopies. It was just too hot to be out. "What do you guys think about dismantling things and going to The Sultanas for lunch?"
Nita agreed and Jet replied, "Aww man, I was hoping for Mexican. Like Casa y Cochina. I hear they have good margaritas."
Pointy-horned and cloven-hoof evil.
Yep. That's Jet.