Oh, and a reindeer antler headband.
I had to admit, that tee kind of rocked.
Nevertheless, I instantly went into damage control mode.
“I’m so sorry. The boys have been really busy. They haven’t had time to gather any evidence about Castro.”
“Of course they haven’t,” she returned. “They’re hunting that nutjob who killed that little girl.”
Well, one could say she was direct.
I nodded soberly. “They are, indeed.”
“What I wanna know is…”
Oh boy.
“When are you gonna write another book?”
That was what I feared was coming, because it often came after, “What I wanna know is…?”
“’Cause, you see,” she carried on, “I liked that other one. That girl had gumption. She was like…” She turned to have a fake conversation with the air at her side. “‘You know what? I’m just gonna be me. And you know what else? I got a vulva, and you might not think I can be me, but guess what?” She leaned in to drive her point home to her imaginary audience. “I can be.” Back to me. “I think every girl on the planet should be required to read that book.”
“That’s a very kind compliment.”
“I mean the boys?” she continued. “They think they got Holden Caulfield. But what’s that boy teaching them? I do not know. But we girls? We girls got Delilah Spinnaker. And I’ll take me some Delilah over Holden a million times.”
I wasn’t sure that was the compare/contrast to go for, but the reason I wrote the book was to let a reader do their own thinking.
So all I had was, “Thank you.”
“So, when are you gonna write another?” she pushed.
And then what I expected to come next, came.
Even so, what came wasn’t what I would have expected.
“Because I think in the next one, she should become a commando, and her boyfriend can be her sidekick.”
I’d had a lot of people share what they thought my heroine in We Pluck the Cord should do next.
Commando, though, was a first.
I tried to let her down easy by saying what I’d said around fifty thousand times.
“I really feel like her story has been told.”
Kimmy settled her weight in like a coach did in the locker room prior to giving a pep talk to the team.
“I was afraid you’d say that. ’Cause, see…it hasn’t.”
“Ohmigod! Hi, Shelly!” Celeste exclaimed, rushing in front of Kimmy to give Ms. Kelly, or apparently Shelly, a big hug.
Shelly hugged her back and Celeste turned on Kimmy.
“Hey there, Kimmy. I need those antlers.”
“They’re at my shop, gurl.”
“I’m gonna stop by.” She looked down at me. “You wanna stop by Kimmy’s shop after coffees, Delly?”
I loved the “Delly” thing was catching on.
“Let me guess, it’s a Christmas shop,” I drawled.
Celeste and Shelly burst into giggles, but Kimmy stared at me like I had a screw loose.
“Yeah, I got Christmas all year ’round, ’cause, duh…Christmas,” she explained. “But obviously, right now it’s Halloween.”
“Wait!” Celeste grabbed her arm. “Do you a have those vampire teeth that are actually wax that you can chew? Like, the anti-gum, gum…but in vampire teeth.”
Did they still make those?
“Yep.” Kimmy popped the “p” of her yep.
They still made them.
“Okay, we’re gonna get those too,” Celeste declared, and I had to say, I liked how she seemed to be…carefree.
This was not the girl I first met.
This was something else.
In other words, I made a decision the likes I’d made a lot over the years.
A mom decision.
And this one was not to let Celeste know my fans (or paparazzi or whatever he was) were causing problems.
She looked again at me, precisely, my drink.
“You’ve got yours. Do you want a cookie? Or a brownie? They make great brownies. I’m gonna go grab a drink,” she said.
“Let me—” I made a move to get up, and, let’s face it, escape Kimmy and Shelly (no matter how cheerful or entertaining they were—from experience I knew these things were apt to turn, and I’d learned it was best for all concerned to make your exit before that happened).
Celeste thwarted this endeavor.
“No, I have money.” She turned to Shelly. “You good?”
“For sure,” Shelly replied.
She turned to Kimmy. “Good?”
Kimmy didn’t answer except to lift her paper cup and avocado straw an inch away from Celeste’s face.
Not that she could, but still, Celeste didn’t miss the communication.
“I’ll be right back.” She began to take off.
“Wait! I’ll come with. I need a brownie for Ray,” Shelly called after her, then whirled on me. “So nice to meet you, Ms. Larue.”
“Delphine,” I corrected.
She hopped, clapped, and instead of shouting, “Rah, rah, sis kum bah!” she cried, “Ohmigod! I…love you.”
Then she took off.
I winced, because Kimmy had latched onto a heavy wrought iron, French bistro-inspired chair with a wooden seat and was scraping it across the cement floor.
Everybody else in the shop winced too.
She set it beside my chair and plopped down in it, before sucking back some coffee, pounding her chest, and focusing on me.
“So, what the boys got on this psycho?” she asked.
“I don’t really…they don’t talk about the case.”
She bent forward, elbow to knee, in order to commit fully to conspiracy mode.
“I reckon you heard your fill about Audrey,” she said low.
“Ummmmm…”
“Yeah, well, I mean, even karma isn’t that big of a bitch.”
I could agree with that.
So I hummed, “Mm.”
“Now, guess who stumbled out of Sarah Pulaski’s back door in the wee hours of the morning yesterday.”
I tried to stop her. “Kimmy—”
I failed to stop her.
“You guessed it. Dale.”
“I really don’t—”
“Now, obviously, this isn’t the best timing. And as a modern woman, I would not advocate Sarah taking him back. But, I mean, if you’re gonna stick it to the woman who destroyed your life…”
She let that hang, and she was right to do so, because indeed, that was some intense vengeance.
“I feel like we should—”
“And you know who’s, like, cackling over her brew?”
Something about that question made me pause and listen.
“Lana,” she said, like gotcha.
“I haven’t been in town that long, I don’t know—”
“Right.” She scooched her chair closer, it made another, thankfully much shorter shriek, then she launched in. “Lana of Lana and Bobby. Audrey’s first target, ’cause, see, Bobby’s got more money than God, which is what Audrey was after, and why Lana didn’t kick him to the curb when he stepped out on her.”