Chapter 32
Boxed wine
Zoey
Me: Besides your above-average number of free-range animals and lack of delivery options, Story Lake is kind of okay.
Gage: I told you we’d grow on you. Still on for your crash course in ultimate bingo tonight after the accessibility panel?
Me: Can’t I just read the rule book? Is there a rule book? YouTube tutorial? Way to gracefully resign as team captain?
Gage: I’ll buy you dinner.
Me: Dinner like “date”? Because I don’t think that was part of our “monogamous casual sex” discussion.
Gage: Dinner as in “I plan to be hungry around the dinner hour and will require food.” Not “let’s get married and plan a future together” dinner.
Me: Ugh. Fine. Since you’re obviously so obsessed with me. By the way, I can’t find Opal. We were supposed to have a meeting. How does the small-town gossip network work so I can hunt her down?
Gage: I got this.
Gage: Has anyone seen Opal Mallory?
Cam: Why is the group name different? What happened to the Buttholes?
Levi: It’s a new group, stupid.
Gage: The Bishop Buttholes continues on. This is a less-specific group of buttholes that includes Zoey and Hazel and Mom and Dad.
Cam: I don’t like it.
Gage: What a coincidence since that’s how we all feel about you.
Zoey: Sorry to interrupt the buttholing, but Gage is helping me look for Opal.
She’s the crabby lady in Hazel’s writing class who’s about to become my second client whether she wants to or not.
She gets around with a walker when the nursing staff is watching.
Most likely to be found yelling at birds or people who annoy her.
Hazel: Hi bestie! Welcome to the family chat!
Zoey: Shouldn’t you be writing?
Hazel: I would be if you’d give me anything to work with. How would you describe your sex life with Gage? A. Dizzyingly orgasmic? B. Moderately pleasant? C. Hilariously disappointing?
Levi: How do I leave a message group?
Gage: A. Obviously. Also, I’d like to remind everyone that Mom and Dad are in this group.
Cam: Sounds like a C to me.
Pep: Don’t mind my family, Zoey. They were raised in a barn. I saw Opal getting coffee and petting cats this morning at the coffee shop.
Frank: You went to Perked Up and you didn’t bring me back a butterscotch latte?
Pep: Shit. Who added your father to this chat?
Gage: What part of “Mom and Dad are in this group” did you not understand?
Frank: What chats aren’t I a part of?
Levi: Formally requesting to be removed from all group chats.
Pep: Nice try, son. That paintball stunt of yours ensures forced membership and participation in all family group chats forever and ever.
Levi: I DIDN’T PAINTBALL THE BARN.
Hazel: This is a family mystery I’m interested in solving.
Cam: There’s no mystery. Livvy did it.
Levi: I DIDN’T DO IT!!!
Frank: I WANT A LATTE!!!
Zoey: Hazel, I hope you’re being inspired right now.
Hazel: I basically just copied and pasted this entire conversation into my manuscript. I’ll change the names later.
Laura: Not to break up the butthole party but Opal just walked into the general store and is filling a cart with snacks.
I burst through the general store’s front door and nearly collapsed with relief—and lack of cardiovascular capability—when I spotted Opal browsing the selection of mouthwashes on the endcap. Melvin, Laura’s gigantic dog, was standing by in his general store saddlebags, waiting to be helpful.
As soon as I got done yelling at Opal, I needed to snap a picture of the dog and send it to Isla so she could post it on Story Lake’s official social media accounts.
“Hey!” I wheezed accusingly.
Melvin gave a cheerful bark.
Opal startled, sending a bottle of antifreeze-colored mouthwash flying. “Christ, kid. When’s the last time you did cardio? Exercise is good for the brain shit you got.”
“You break it, you bought it,” Laura called from behind the counter.
“You were supposed to meet me…at your place…an hour ago.”
“You got an inhaler or something? ’Cause you might want to use it.”
“No, I don’t have an inhaler because I don’t have asthma. I just have no cardiovascular capacity! Now, we are having this meeting, and we’re having it right now.”
Opal looked to Laura for help. “I don’t suppose you’d help an old lady out?”
“Sorry, Opal. You told me my jelly selection ‘sucks ass.’ I’m Team Zoey.”
“I didn’t tell you that. I muttered it under my breath like a lady,” Opal insisted.
“Then you need to get your ears checked,” Laura suggested.
“Back to you avoiding me,” I insisted, stepping in front of Opal’s cart.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, let’s get back to me avoiding you.”
“Opal.”
“Ugh. I didn’t feel like listening to you yammer on about how my stories aren’t publishable.” She pushed the cart into my thighs, but I stood my ground.
“Did you drink straight whiskey for breakfast?” I asked sweetly.
“Not today.”
“Oh, then you’re just stubborn and spiraling,” I surmised.
“I’m a retired psychologist. I don’t spiral.”
“Right, because it makes so much more sense for me to set a meeting with you to explain your books are garbage instead of me telling you we need to pick an hour tomorrow afternoon to have a call with an acquisitions editor who wants to make an offer on your series, you insufferable, pain-in-the-ass genius,” I snapped.
“Well, shit. You coulda told me that.”
I shoved my hands into my hair. “That’s what I was going to tell you at the meeting you skipped! Oh my God. Is this what it’s like having kids? Because I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s like,” Laura called.
“Humph. I guess I’m free between two and three tomorrow,” Opal grumbled.
“Thank. You,” I said between clenched teeth, then took a deep breath.
“I probably could have found a gentler way to say that. But I used up all my nuanced peopling already today, and I still have an entire event to get through tonight before I can hide on the floor in a hoodie. Also I’m hangry and shit shit shit!
I still need snacks for the workshop tonight. ”
“Well, you came to the right place,” Laura said. “Me, Melvin, and Opal will be happy to help.”
“Not me. I stopped helping people at sixty. I’m outta here.” Opal threw a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and left with her bag of chips and carton of French onion dip.
“I’ll see you at two tomorrow,” I called after her.
The door closed behind her, and I collapsed against the toilet paper display. Melvin meandered up and bumped me in the hip with his massive fluffy head.
“I’m too exhausted to reach for my phone. Can you take a picture of Melvin and send it to your daughter so she can post it on Story Lake’s Instagram?”
Laura acquiesced and snapped the photo. “You really need to work on your cardio if you’re going to be chasing clients all over town.”
“I should have just driven, but my car roof latch is stuck again. The right side won’t stay closed, so it claps up and down when I drive. Also there’s this rattle in the door that’s driving me insane,” I explained.
Laura wheeled out from behind the counter. “I’m sure I have a brother who could fix that if you mention it to him.”
“Who? Gage? I’m just using him for sex. I don’t think our agreement covers car maintenance.”
“If the guy isn’t willing to do you a favor or two outside the bedroom, you’re not doing the sex right.”
“I’m doing the sex just fine,” I promised. Besides, the ask was too far outside my comfort zone. It was too much. Orgasms, yes. They were mutually beneficial. But car maintenance? No. I wasn’t about to start inconveniencing my casual monogamous sex partner with relationship-like demands.
“Suit yourself.” She hefted a box of wine in each hand and held them out to me. “You’ll need these for tonight. Story Lake doesn’t gather without snacks and alcohol.”
“Damn, girl. Where’d you get those biceps?” I asked, admiring her fitness magazine–worthy guns.
“Started working out with a trainer instead of just my dumb brothers,” she said.
“Ah, the gym. I have heard rumors of such a place. So how much wine will it take for everyone to learn something but still enjoy themselves tonight?”
“Better grab a third box just to be safe,” Laura suggested.