Part 8 (1/2)
When finished, hands on my hips, crusty dirt caked to my knees and under my fingernails, I studied my work. The garden was lush and organized, and looked like a clean straw bed. Food and comfort, in one small, thriving s.p.a.ce. I stretched and studied the position of the sun, figuring it was about 8:30. I decided to check the birdseed level in my feeders and set out the sprinkler to wet the thirsty earth in my garden, and then go inside to make supper. I was leaning into the five-gallon metal birdseed bucket when I heard a car coming up my driveway. I figured it was just some guest heading to Shangri-La and continued my work. I had a big scoop of seed in hand when the car pulled into my driveway. My stomach clenched when I realized the car belonged to Kennie Rogers. It dropped down to my knees when I saw who was in the seat next to her.
”Aren't we lucky to catch you at home, Miss Mira!”
I was frozen, gripping a scoop of thistle seed like it was the key to The Door Out. Kennie had warned me that she was coming over later, and what a fool I was for not believing her.
”Brad, I do declare, we are just in time for a Beaver Pelt intervention, wouldn't you say? If ever a girl needed to feel pretty, that girl was Mira.” Kennie strode over to me purposefully, the white lab coat she was wearing over knee-high pleather go-go boots doing nothing to relax my stance.
Bad Brad, the man I once thought I loved until he had cheated on me, thank G.o.d, was still in Battle Lake after his Friday night concert. Worse, he was at Kennie's side, a snap-front lab coat with a skull and crossbones pattern covering him head to shorts. He wore scruffy Doc Marten boots and had what looked like a doctor's house-call bag in hand. I might have whimpered.
”Now, don't look so scared. My a.s.sistant and I are here to save you, if you're ready to be saved.”
For sure I wasn't. I dropped the scoop into the metal bucket and started backing toward the house. It was a flimsy double-wide so this little pig didn't have much protection, but my only other option was my car, and Drs. Moreau and Hyde were between me and it. ”Saved sounds great! Let me just go get cleaned up real quick, and we can get on with that.”
Brad and Kennie continued advancing, smiling encouragingly. ”But that's why we're here. To clean you up, doll!”
My plan was to get inside the double-wide, lock the front door, and while they tried to break in and have their most certainly unlicensed ”Beaver Pelt intervention” way with me, I would slip out the back window and into my car. And then, I would drive as far away from Battle Lake as I could humanly get on one tank of gas while wearing a bikini. ”Can I wash my hands?”
”No need, sweetie. We have gloves, and we do all the handling. You just lay there!”
I squealed and tripped over my own feet, landing on the soft gra.s.s in an ungainly heap. Brad leaned down and offered me his hand. ”Jeez, Mira. It's no big deal. Kennie is just running a home visit cosmopologist service.”
”Cosmetologist, hon', but my specialty is waxing. Eyebrows, mustaches, down below. I got the inspiration from the Beaver Pelts cheerleading squad. Those short skirts, all those old legs in the air. That's where I got the name, of course-Beaver Pelt Intervention. It's a waist to big toe waxing, all for one low price.”
I blinked, noisily, and got to my feet without the help of Brad. ”You came here to give me a bikini wax? With Brad?”
”I a.s.sure you I'm licensed. It's been a decade or so since I took the cla.s.ses at Alex Tech, but I've kept current through a correspondence program.”
”And Brad? What're you doing here?” I was suddenly self-conscious in my two-piece swimsuit and drew my thighs together in a slow and controlled movement, so as not to draw attention to my ”down below.”
Brad smiled serenely. ”I have you to thank for that, Mira. I was going to go back with the band Friday after I saw you, but dude, you just looked so happy. I wanted to see if the small town life would work for me, too, especially since I had a connection with you here already. When Kennie came by to pay us Friday night, she said I could crash at her place until I could get myself settled.”
Kennie looked from Brad to me, a cross between crabby and curious. ”You two know each other?”
”Not anymore,” I said.
”And not like I know you, right, hon?” Kennie winked at Brad.
I suddenly noticed Brad's legs were hairless. I turned off my brain before the picture went any farther north, but d.a.m.n if karma wasn't dealing me a confusing hand. My cheating ex was in town, but he appeared to be facing his own punishment at the hand of a crazy waxer. I couldn't process it. What I needed was a shower, supper, and a little bland television. ”I appreciate you driving out here, Kennie, but I don't get waxed.”
”There's a first time for everything.”
”Not true.”
”I'll give you a 50 percent discount.”
”Kennie, I'm not going to pay you to rip my hair out with hot wax.”
”I'm not leaving until I help you out, sweets. How about a teeny tiny little makeover?” She raised her penciled-in eyebrows hopefully.
”How teeny tiny?”
”Just a little mascara and a dust of lip gloss. It'll brighten your pretty eyes right up. They're all deep set now, like holes in your skull.”
I sighed. Kennie clearly was not going to leave until she touched me, so my face seemed like the safest bet. I wasn't going to let them in my house, though. I rinsed off as best I could with the garden hose and set myself on the front porch steps, hands on knees. Brad opened up his doctor's bag to reveal a pot of wax, strips of paper, an evil-looking four-inch tweezers, a comb, brush, scissors, hairspray, and a full palette makeup kit. He pulled out the latter and held it open for Kennie, who studied me disapprovingly.
”You're tanned as brown as a bean farmer.”
”Sorry.”
”You're going to look like raisin leather before you're forty, you know that? And you have fieldworker hands.”
”Just do the makeup, okay? I haven't had supper yet.”
Kennie sniffed and huffed but didn't say anything else as she began applying makeup. This close to her face, I could see the putty-knife precision she used to get herself through the day. There was a bronze makeup lip around the perimeter of her face, and her purple, blue, and pink eye shadow was thick and unblended. Her lips were clownish, as if drawn by a four-year-old. Sigh. At least I was home, and I could wash off whatever damage she did.
Brad tried to make supportive ”ooh-ing” sounds throughout the process, but his eyes kept getting wider and wider as I felt myself buried under Kennie's fall colors. Even Luna and Tiger Pop were watching now.
Twenty long minutes later, Kennie p.r.o.nounced herself done. ”That is what they call a makeover. Brad, hand me the mirror.”
I thought of the ”Mira Mira” song Brad had sung to me on Friday. ”No-Mira. I mean, mirror,” I said. ”I'm sure it looks fabulous. How much do I owe you?”
Kennie chuckled. ”Honey, consider me your drug dealer. The first one is free, and once I get you hooked, we talk prices. Now don't waste that pretty face at home. You'all should come to town tonight and show yourself off.”
I smiled at the unlikeliness of that happening. ”Good idea. I suppose you two need to go drum up more business, eh?”
”You know the life of the working woman too well! Never rest for the wicked. You know where to find me.” She twittered her fingers at me and herded Brad away before he had fully closed his doctor's bag. I was not sorry to see them go. I made a mental note to start carrying my stun gun around with me, even if I was wearing a bikini. I went inside to wash my face off in a cool shower. I was locking the door behind me-I hadn't totally ruled out Kennie resorting to a forcible bikini wax-when the phone rang. I didn't bother to check the caller ID.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Mira? It's Johnny.”
My heart thudded on a crest of mixed feelings. ”Where are you?”
”I'm still in Stevens Point. In Wisconsin.”
My voice took on an edge. ”And how's your grandma?”
I heard a deep sigh through the crackling of the phone line. Johnny must be calling on his cell. ”I'm sorry, Mira. I never went to see my grandma. I lied to you.”
More confusion. ”Why?”
”I needed you to watch my cabin, and if I told you where I was really going, I didn't know if you'd do it.”
”So where did you really go?”
There was another crackle on the line. ”... Stevens Point. Dolly teaches here, at the University of ...”
He faded out, but I had heard enough. I almost hung up when his voice ghosted back over the line. ”She vandalized a McDonald's.”
”What? You were cutting out.”