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Butterscotch 27 - Phones
🕑 Added 2020-09-08 13:25:50 +0000 UTC
I know I screamed because Mom jerked the wheel, then jerked it back to avoid crashing into somebody, while shouting, “What!? What!”
I covered my face with my hands and my phone, shouted back,. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Mom was really angry with me, “Don’t ever do that!” she almost snarled.
I kept saying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“What the shit! Davey!” she was still shouting. People were honking horns at us and probably yelling too, but we couldn’t hear them.
“Pull over! Pull over! Park it somewhere!” I held out my phone. “I have to show you something!”
We were on Western so Mom went into the parking lot of a strip mall and parked. We both sat there trembling a bit.
“What is this?” she asked as I passed her my phone.
“Message—message from Marjie,” I gasped. I shook my head. “Just read it.”
She did and her reaction mirrored mine. “What the hell?” She turned to look at me. “She’s—she’s still trying to buy you!”
“Well, she’s offering a pretty good price,” I mentioned.
Mom glared at me. “You’re not for sale.”
I put my hands up. “If she’s done what she says she’s done, she’s put up money for an option.” My heart was pounding, I was shocked but I was having a hard time, too, with an urge to giggle.
Mom sat quiet a moment, steaming a bit. The sun was coming in on my side of the car, so I was beginning to bake. Too much sensitive skin not used to the sun—five more minutes and I would begin to burn. For some reason, it’s always hotter along Western in the summer than it is along Vermont. More pavement, I guess.
“Can we find some shade to park in?” I asked. I was suddenly hot all over, though I didn’t think the temperature had really changed.
Mom pointed across the parking lot. “There’s a Rite-Aid Drug Store here.” She hadn’t turned the engine off, so she just put the car back in gear and pulled on through the parking space, aiming to re-park closer to the entrance. “We can get you some sunblock and maybe another big hat.”
I did giggle then. “And a cone.” Ice cream sounded really good because I was still feeling kind of overheated.
Rite-Aids in California all used to be Thriftys and still have an ice cream bar inside, serving Thrifty ice cream, a near-premium brand at a discount price. Just because you’ve been bought, I reflected, doesn’t mean you have to change who you are inside.
“You don’t need a cone,” Mom commented. “You just had a lollipop.”
“But it’s gone,” I said. Actually, I had taken a bite of it just as we got to the valet booth and thrown the rest into their trash, not wanting to get in the car while eating something sticky.
“You’ve got to watch your weight now, kiddo,” Mom pointed out. “Female hormones will cause you to pack it on.”
I ignored that. We hadn’t quite left Koreatown yet and there was a Korean BBQ restaurant next door to the Rite-Aid. The smells of savory meat and veggies cooked right at your table made me wish I were hungry enough for a meal. At 5’4” and 102 pounds, I could easily stand putting on some weight. In fact, I looked forward to adding some in the right places.
Mom re-parked and we hurried inside. There’s a Rite-Aid at the end of the block where we lived and this one was laid out much the same, so we knew where to find stuff.
I walked the aisles thinking about money. Mom seemed to be on the same wavelength because she asked. “How much is she talking about? I know she’s a Pritzger and told you that she owns a piece of a building on Wilshire.”
“She said her investments paid her about $300,000 a month. So, six times that?”
“Guh,” said Mom. After a bit, adding, “She’ll have strings attached.”
I nodded. “Probably in one of those trust funds where she can still control it.” I didn’t know how such things worked but I knew they existed.
“Manipulative bitch,” Mom commented.
I nodded. “Very.”
Another bottle of sunblock, small enough for my purse. Not the house brand but a national, I could afford to splurge. I grinned, feeling my own attitude toward money beginning to adjust. Holy crap. It’s entirely possible that I’m rich.
On another aisle, for seasonal merchandise, I picked out a white straw hat with a wide, multi-colored ribbon tied in a big bow. An extravagantly huge bow, in fact. I put it on my head and smiled at Mom.
“Cute,” she said. “Suits you.”
I found a mirror. I did look cute in the hat and the big ribbon was part of that. Pleased, Mom and I wandered the store a bit more, looking at cosmetics and cheap jewelry but not picking anything out. Then we went up front to pay, using the card that had Marjorie’s original five hundred behind it.
“Ice cream,” I reminded her and we went toward the little kiosk inside the store.
“What’s your favorite flavor?” I asked Mom.
“Anything chocolate,” she answered. “I know you like pistachio, but try some chocolate. It might be different for you now.”
“Huh?”
She shrugged. “Try it.”
I ended up with mint chocolate chip and Mom got chocolate malt, we traded licks and bites and both were very good. We finished the cones sitting on a shady bench outside the store, then cleaned our faces and hands and I put on sunblock before getting back in the car.
“That was good,” I mention. “I might get something with more chocolate in it next time.”
Mom grinned. “Chocolate is the lonely girl’s friend, so be careful. It can be addictive.”
“Huh?”
She shook her head. “Later,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about Marjorie and I believe I need to talk to the woman.”
I pointed at her and laughed. “You called her ‘Marjorie’. First time.”
Mom smiled. “She’s obviously insisting on having some relationship with you which means with me. Since you’re still a minor, I have some leverage. Might be tricky to use it.” She thought a moment. “Message her back and ask her to meet you at our place—,” she glanced at the time on the dash, “—I guess around seven? It’s already almost six.”
“Really? Okay.” I had my phone out still with her last message loaded so I just hit reply and chose text. I had to backspace and start over when Mom said not to mention her. The message I ended up sending read, “Meet in apt, at 7?”
I wondered if this was a good idea but Mom seemed sure of herself.
I pulled up the other messages just as the phone rang, right in my hands. Startled me so bad I almost dropped it. Caller ID said the call was from Armand.
“That her?” Mom asked.
I shook my head and pressed answer, putting the phone to my ear. “Hi, Armand,” I said.
“Davey—,” he said.
“It’s Kissy now.”
“Uh-huh,” that had probably made no sense to him. “I’m running a game tonight at my place. Marty and I were trying to reach you.”
“I was just now getting around to looking at messages.”
“We want you to come, you missed the game last night. I was here.”
“I—,” I looked at Mom, “What time is the game?”
“I’m here. The guys will be here about seven thirty.”
“Starts at seven thirty?” I said for Mom’s benefit. “How late you going to play?”
“Probably after midnight, you know,” said Armand.
“I’ll call you right back, Armand. I have to check something?”
“Are you in a car? You could just come right over.”
“I’m not driving, I don’t drive. Call you right back.”
“Okay,” he said. “I saw you cosplaying in Melrose, yesterday. You looked good.”
Cosplaying? Is that what he thought I was doing? I giggled.
“You looked just like her, and you sound like her, too.”
“Who?”
“Samantha. I didn’t know anyone cosplayed as daytime TV show characters.”
“Um. Armand, I wasn’t cosplaying. That’s who I am now.”
“Samantha? Huh?”
“No, call me Kissy.”
“Kissee?”
Well, sort of, but I could see this wasn’t going anywhere. I rolled my eyes. “I’ll call you right back, gotta check with the driver.” Mom was grinning at me.
“Okay, call me back,” said Armand.
I hit hang up and looked at Mom. “Same old Armand,” I said. “Bright as a searchlight, thick as a brick.”
She laughed. “I remember him. A very nice boy, if a bit strange. Big as a moose with a huge appetite, too.” Once, at our place, Armand had mistaken a quart of cottage cheese as a single serving and eaten the whole thing. His size and hunger became legendary that day.
“Okay, you heard?” I said. “Game at seven thirty, play to midnight?”
She nodded. “Do you want to go? I think you should, they’re your friends. If Kissy is who you are now, and you don’t want to just cut them off…. How do you think they’re going to react?”
I pulled down the vanity mirror and looked at myself. Okay, I guess I am a little vain. From short, skinny, boy dweeb to glamorous, hot girl in thirty hours with this one weird trick. Heh. And I may be rich, too. I said it aloud this time, “They’re gonna shit purple bricks.”
Mom laughed. “You know your friends. And if you get out of the way shortly after she arrives, Margarine and I can have a heart to heart.”
I grinned. Margarine. “You gonna try to butter her up? But if you’re talking to her, how am I going to get to the game? Armand lives ‘way cross town, between the school and the reservoir.”
“Have him come pick you up. He’s a handsome kid, it won’t hurt any negotiations I get up to if she knows you have a boyfriend.”
“I—what?” Armand as a boyfriend? I giggled. Well, he was good-looking, though up until today, I would have avoided thinking of him that way. Hmm. “She’s met him, Mom.”
“Even better, he’s not someone from just out of the blue. You have a past connection.”
“Mom, you just may be more manipulative than Margo.”
“Who?” She grinned.
The phone rang in my hand again. Thinking it was Armand calling back, I answered without looking at caller ID. “Hey,” I said. “I think I can go if you can come pick me up?”
Rory’s voice answered. “Wow, babe, I didn’t even know if you were free tonight. Ball game’s over, I thought I’d call. So, where should we go?”
Comments
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
Kissy is busy. :)
Rose Howell
Okay. I've heard of triangles, but we're now talking quadrilateral relationships? Shall we add a fifth?
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
Thanks. I just get the giggles when I'm writing it. :)
Glenda Ericsson
Can’t get enough Butterscotch, she makes me all tingly inside🥰
