Gertie straightened up and whirled around. “How did you know my panties were lime green?”
“How do you think?”
The rest of the outfit was just as scandalous. The tank top was black but cut so low that her panty-matching bra showed off a good inch of fabric and pushed-up cleavage, and it fit like a wetsuit would, leaving not even a mole to the imagination. She was wearing a wig of straight silver and pink strands that hung in a blunt cut at her chin. Her eyes were covered with silver glitter, and a row of lime-green sequins rested just beneath the eyebrow.
But her shoes were the real kicker. They were thigh-high black patent leather boots with a platform heel, giving her an extra six inches. I gave her thirty minutes max before she twisted an ankle and spent the rest of the night on crutches.
“How in the world did you get in those?” I asked, pointing to the boots.
“Myrtle helped. Myrtle and a little baby oil.”
“Wouldn’t that make your feet slide?”
“No. I got the boots a half size too small to help with the slipping. Trust me, I’ve done my research.”
“Been talking online to strippers again?”
“They have a lot of beauty tips. I mean, they have to look perfect everywhere and without the benefit of filters and Photoshop.”
“Where’s Francis?” I asked, changing the subject. The last time Gertie had got going on the online stripper group she lurked in, I’d received entirely too much information about hair removal, and not from the locations you might discuss with other people.
“I moved him into one of the upstairs bedrooms. I’m afraid someone might accidentally let him out.”
So Francis had the best seat in the house.
“Looks like no one will go hungry,” I said.
“Oh, this is just the snacks,” Gertie said. “I’ve got a truckload of barbecue coming.”
“What can I do?” I asked.
Gertie shoved a wineglass at me and poured us both a drink. “You can have a quick drink with me and toast my best friend finally marrying the only good man left in Sinful besides Carter.”
I clinked her glass and smiled. “I can drink to that.”
Gertie tossed back a drink and sniffed.
“You’re not going to get weepy on us, are you?” I asked.
“Maybe a little, but as soon as the games start, I’ll be having too much fun to be emotional. And there’s the big surprise.”
I wasn’t even going to ask.
By the time Ida Belle arrived, everyone else was already there and had thrown back a glass of something. A huge cheer went up when she walked through the door and even Ida Belle couldn’t help smiling at the greeting. Before she could make it two steps inside, someone had put a sash over her shoulder that read The Bride. Another lady gave her a tiara and a glass of wine. I took a picture because I didn’t give anything but the wine two seconds before they disappeared.
By the time Ida Belle made it to the chair reserved for her in the middle of the living room, Gertie was wearing the tiara, the sash was hanging on the lamp, and the wine was consumed. She took a seat and waved for a refill on her glass while I slipped onto the ottoman next to her.
“I haven’t been this nervous since my last CIA mission,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” Ida Belle said. “Vietnam didn’t have as many potential land mines as this party.”
“Ladies!” Gertie yelled, and turned down the stereo. Everyone finally quieted and Gertie raised her glass. “To my best friend, Ida Belle. I never thought this day would come but here we are. And I couldn’t be happier for you. To Ida Belle and Walter—may they live happily ever after!”
We all cheered and clinked glasses. Ida Belle looked a little concerned with the ‘happily ever after’ part of the speech, but then she had the Hallmark channel blocked on her cable service, so it wasn’t surprising.
Gertie clapped her hands to get attention again. “And now, for the first game of the night—pin the macho on the male!”
A big cheer went up even though I doubted anyone knew what she was talking about. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know but I was equally sure I didn’t have a choice.
“Come on up, Ida Belle,” Gertie called.
Ida Belle rose from her chair but the suspicious look was already in place. When she got to where Gertie was standing, Gertie pulled out a blindfold.
“No way,” Ida Belle said.
“It’s like pin the tail on the donkey,” Gertie said.
“Oh no,” I mumbled, having figured out exactly what was about to happen.
Ida Belle was running behind on her Gertie comprehension and finally allowed herself to be masked. Once she was blindfolded, Gertie put a poster of a naked man, missing a vital part, on her wall and then put the missing part, complete with double-sided tape, in Ida Belle’s hand.
I saw Ida Belle stiffen and took a picture before the moment was over, and I had acted none too soon. Ida Belle tore off the blindfold and stared at the part, her eyes widening, then let out a yell and chunked the macho across the room. Francis, apparently deciding the party downstairs was more interesting than his quiet space upstairs, chose that moment to break out and fly into the living room. The macho hit him right in the chest and stuck. Francis, thinking he was under attack, flapped frantically around the room as half the women chased him and the other half collapsed on the floor in laughter.
I snagged some gelatin shots and passed two to Ida Belle before downing one myself.
“This is going to be a long night,” she said.
After the macho fell off Francis, he retreated to his perch in the kitchen. Gertie gave him a grape and he seemed somewhat mollified, although he spent a good minute telling everyone about the hot place they were going to. Gertie ditched the boots in favor of tennis shoes and the party continued. The rest of the games mostly involved drinking and no body parts, so everything was reasonably calm.
Then at 10:00 p.m. Gertie called for everyone to head onto the back porch because it was time for the big surprise. Ida Belle and I were half drunk already, but we took one more shot for good measure before heading outside. Gertie’s back porch looked as if it had collected every old folding chair from all of southern Louisiana. Ida Belle and I were directed to reserved seats in the middle of the porch, right in front of the steps. I was somewhat fearful because it appeared as if Gertie had constructed a stage in the middle of her backyard, but I couldn’t quite make it out in the dark.
Once everyone had a chair or a place to squat on the lawn, Gertie went up to the stage and I heard a familiar hissing sound. A couple seconds later, fireworks lit up the sky over Gertie’s backyard and exploded into a million colors. All the women yelled as though they’d never seen fireworks before. When the last of the embers had flickered out, Gertie turned on the lights. And I mean lights. Flood lights illuminated the stage in her yard as if she were hosting a concert. Then the music started—loud, thumping music, pumped into the air by enormous speakers on each side of the stage.
“How long until the cops get here?” I asked Ida Belle.
“They’re not coming,” Myrtle said, overhearing my question. “Carter already told dispatch to ignore all calls originating about this address.”
“Smart,” I said. “Carter doesn’t want any part of the things happening here.”