Masie and Lila

Masie pulled up at Lila's and sat in the car for a moment before approaching the door. A bluejay was making a ruckus in the crape myrtles adjacent to Lila's porch. So much for a quiet moment. Masie hopped out with her grocery bags and walked up the steps and opened the door.

Lila popped up from the couch on her porch.

“What the—? Masie? Fuck. What year is it?”

Masie had forgotten that Lila liked sleeping out there in the spring and fall.

Lila rubbed her eyes, and Eliot, her ginger tabby, stretched in a sunbeam on the floor.

“Bitch, you woke me up from a dream about Sam.” As she stretched, her toes nudged the cat, chipped red nails disappearing into tawny fur.

“Like you ever dream about anything else.” Masie smiled and joined Lila on the couch. “Ready for a beer?”

“I recall dreaming I beat the shit out of you after the bullshit you pulled last time you were in town.” She picked up a church key from her end table and popped one open. “Please don’t tell me you’re coming here from Joshua’s.”

Eliot suddenly needed to be in the living room and bolted through the open door like a streak of orange light.

“I’m so sure Mary fucking Elizabeth would offer me house room. Puh-leaze. I drove straight from Baltimore, only stopping in Charlotte for gas and the Pig for necessities.”

“Mary Elizabeth and the kids are at Edisto for the week.” Lila pulled a cigarette out of an open pack of Camel Lights then eyeballed the bag with the butter. “Since when are eggs a necessity for us?” She finished with a wink and a flick of her Bic.

After a long drag on her cigarette and a swig of ale, Lila said, “Dumbass. Who buys gas in Charlotte instead of waiting til they get to Rock Hill? And who the fuck goes to the Pig on a Tuesday morning when Betty fucking Johnson nee Blanchard is stocking up for the week?”

A storm of disturbance swept over Masie’s face. “What do you mean, it’s Tuesday? That’s not possible.” Masie took the church key, opened a Newcastle, and downed it in one.

“Okay, Masie. What the fuck? What on earth rattled you so bad that you lost time, bought gas in North Carolina, and walked into the Piggly motherfucking Wiggly in a cocktail dress while Miss Betty’s shopping? Don’t you fucking dare tell me nothing. The Masie Adams I know doesn’t get rattled by ‘nothing.’ And she damn sure doesn’t suck down a Newcastle at ten in the morning like she’s Julie fucking Blanchard on spring break.”

Before Masie could answer, Kathleen and Alicia pulled up Lila’s driveway.

Follow this link to see what Mary Elizabeth is doing.