“I was thinking we can push the two big tables together. I know it’s more chairs than we need, but we can put the food in the middle of the table.”
“I’m on it.” She pops her head out the door. “Claws. Sissy. We need the two big tables pushed together.”
Someone – probably Claws – says something shitty, but a moment later the sound of metal scraping the floor fills the air.
I say, “Grab that tray. We’re starting off with salad and fresh rolls.”
I kind of cheated on the bread, using a kit, but I didn’t have enough time to make it the old-fashioned way. When I pull them from the oven, where I had them warming, Jas lets out a moan.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
We go to the main room, where several women sit at the table. Claws is glaring at me, and, when she notices me staring back, she turns her attention to the woman next to her, whispering something. The other woman looks up, a mean gleam in her eyes.
“Jas, is this the bitch fucking Bash?”
I know she’s trying to shock me, but it’s not working. I’ve dealt with way worse than this.
Jas replies, “Don’t be jealous, Karma.”
Karma is beautiful, well, except for her horrible attitude. She has long black hair that looks almost blue and shines when the light hits it just right. Her cheekbones are high and her lips are full, reminding me of a young Angelina Jolie. She smirks at me, as if she can sense my train of thought.
“Sorry honey, I don’t swing that way.”
Jas shakes her head. “Lay off her, Karma. Olivia made us an awesome meal, and I don’t want to spend it listening to you being a catty bitch.”
Karma’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything else.
Jas points to the other women. “That’s Sissy, Ducky, Kiwi, Mama Bear, Pinky, and you already know Claws and Foxy.”
Mama Bear lights a cigarette and says, “You going to stand there or serve us?”
This makes the others snicker. Mama Bear is the oldest one there, with a weathered face and eyes that look like she’s seen a thing or two. She watches me as I go to each plate, serving the salad.
When I’m finished, I put the bowl to the side and say, “I made homemade ranch and blue cheese dressing.”
They look at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Finally, Kiwi says, “Are you serious? You made it?”
“Uh, yeah?”
It’s a recipe I picked up at the restaurant. I made a few tweaks, and it’s pretty good. My favorite part is the chunks of actual blue cheese.
Kiwi pushes a piece of her kiwi green hair from her face. “My Ma used to make homemade blue cheese dressing.”
“I hope you like it.”
I set the bowls down and watch as they dive in. Mama Bear dips her finger into each bowl before nodding. She then proceeds to pour nearly half the bowl of blue cheese over her salad. While they eat, I go back into the kitchen and grab the other bowl of ranch dressing I made.
When I come back, Jas motions for me sit.
“You need to eat, too, Olivia.”
She serves some salad and hands me the plate. I dig in, listening to everyone talk. The girls chat to each other, but you can definitely see who hangs out with who by the private conversations. Claws, Karma, and Sissy are laughing, tossing profanities around. Kiwi, Pinky, Ducky, Foxy, and Jas are talking about going shopping when a new store opens. And Mama Bear and Pinky are talking in low tones to each other, and I can’t hear what they’re saying.
But, I don’t feel left out. In fact, Ducky asks if I want to go shopping with them.
“I’m not sure,” I hedge. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Jas shakes her head. “You won’t be! It will be fun, too. Come on!”
“Sure. That sounds like fun.”
Ducky says, “Text Jas your address and we’ll pick you up. We usually go around noon on our shopping days.”
From the other end of the table, Claws pops off, “Noon! Ha! If I see you up before noon, I’ll swallow all of Tiny’s cum.”
“Fuck off, Claws. I can get up anytime I want. I just choose to sleep in late.” Ducky pauses. “And don’t act like you don’t love swallowing his cum!”
The others laugh loudly.
Jas leans over and says, “You’ll understand when you see Tiny.”
Pinky adds, “Just don’t let him get behind you. He’s a pervy old fucker who likes to grab ass.”
Claws says, “She doesn’t have to worry about that. Ms. Priss dresses like a nun. Won’t surprise me at all if that ends up being her nickname.”
I reply, “Well, I did go through a phase of wanting to be a nun after watching the Sound of Music when I was younger.” I lean forward and whisper, “Captain Von Trapp and that whistle were very inspiring.”
This gets another round of laughter from everyone. Even Mama Bear grins. The thing is, I’m being totally serious, on both accounts.
I ask, “So, how does Saint come up with everyone’s nicknames?”
Because Google wasn’t very helpful.
Mama Bear answers, “The Prez picks names that fit us. Plain and simple. Some are obvious and some are private.”
I think back to what Jas said about getting her name and, just as before, get that same jealous feeling.
“How long does it take to get one?”
“Depends on the chick,” Karma answers. “Some of us have nicknames on day one. Some never get them.”
The way she’s looking at me gives me the impression she doesn’t think I’ll last long enough to get a name.
Pinky says, “Tell her how you got your name, Karma.”
There’s obviously a case of envy and awe here. Pinky’s looking at Karma like she’s halfway in love.
Karma replies, “I got my name because, good or bad, I can fuck your life up, just like karma.”
Mama Bear snorts. “Don’t we all know it.”
This leads into banter between the two. While everyone talks, I go back to the kitchen and start bringing the sides out. Baked potatoes with all the toppings, steamed broccoli, asparagus with lemon butter, white rice, corn on the cob, and homemade kettle chips. Since I wasn’t sure what everyone wanted, I tried to make a variety.
As I’m bringing the last side dish out, Jas says, “Good lord, Olivia.”
I grin and say, “I’ll be back with the steak.”
This tray is heavier, because I cooked more than I needed and had to time everything perfectly so the steaks would be done at the right time. Again, I didn’t know how everyone liked their steaks cooked, so I did a range, from rare to well done. I personally like medium-rare, with a warm outside and a cool, pink center. And theses steaks are top of the line quality. Saint didn’t spare any expenses with them.
When I go to the main room, the girls are already digging in. I put the tray down, explaining which steak is what. Mama Bear is the first to get a steak, choosing a rare one. She cuts into it, taking a bite. And then she lets out a moan.
“I’ve changed my mind about you. You can stay.”
This seems to be the seal of approval the others have been waiting for, because they start talking to me like I’ve known them for years. And, the crazy thing is, I actually feel like I’m apart of their little group.