Part 12 (2/2)
They were smiling, enjoying the moment.
”That Choochy, he's a pip,” Ziggy said. ”Did he really shoot Jesus?”
I smiled with them. Choochy was indeed a pip. ”News travels fast,” I said.
”We're what you call plugged in,” Ziggy said. ”Anyhow, we just want to get it straight from you. How did Choochy look? Was he okay? Was he, you know, crazy?”
”He took a couple shots at Mooner, but he missed. Carolli said Chooch has been excitable ever since his stroke.”
”He don't hear so good, either,” Benny said.
They exchanged glances on that one. No smiles.
Water was dripping from my Levi's, forming a pool on the kitchen floor. Ziggy and Benny were standing clear of it.
”Where's the little geeky guy?” Benny asked. ”Isn't he hanging out with you anymore?”
”He had things to do.”
I PEELED MY clothes off the minute Benny and Ziggy left. Rex was running on his wheel, occasionally pausing to watch me, not understanding the concept of rain. Sometimes he sat under his water bottle and it dripped on his head, but mostly his experience with weather was limited.
I slipped into a new T-s.h.i.+rt and clean Levi's and blasted my hair with the hair dryer. When I was done I had a lot of volume but not much shape, so I created a distraction by applying bright blue eyeliner.
I was pulling my boots on when the phone rang.
”Your sister's on her way over,” my mother said. ”She needs someone to talk to.”
Valerie must really be desperate to choose me to talk to. We like each other okay, but we've never been close. Too many basic personality differences. And when she moved to California we drifted even further apart.
Funny how things turn out. We all thought Valerie had the perfect marriage.
The phone rang again and it was Morelli.
”He's humming,” Morelli said. ”When are you going to come get him?”
”Humming?”
”Bob and I are trying to watch the game and this yodel won't stop humming.”
”Maybe he's nervous.”
”f.u.c.kin' A. He should should be nervous. If he doesn't stop humming I'm going to strangle him.” be nervous. If he doesn't stop humming I'm going to strangle him.”
”Try feeding him.”
And I hung up.
”I wish I knew what everyone is looking for,” I said to Rex. ”I know it's tied to Dougie's disappearance.”
There was a rap on the door and my sister bounced in, looking Doris Day-Meg Ryan perky. Probably perfect for California, but we don't do perky perky in Jersey. in Jersey.
”You're awfully perky,” I said. ”I don't remember you as being this perky.”
”I'm not perky . . . I'm cheerful. I am absolutely not crying anymore, ever again. No one likes a Gloomy Gus. I'm going to get on with my life and I'm going to be happy. I'm going to be so G.o.dd.a.m.n happy Mary Suns.h.i.+ne's going to look like a loser.”
Yikes.
”And do you know why I can be happy? I can be happy because I'm well adjusted.”
Good thing Valerie moved back to Jersey. We'd fix that.
”So this is your apartment,” she said, looking around. ”I've never been here.”
I looked, too, and I wasn't impressed by what I saw. I have lots of good ideas for my apartment, but somehow I never get around to buying the gla.s.s candle holders at Illuminations or the bra.s.s fruit bowl at Pottery Barn. My windows have utilitarian shades and drapes. My furniture is relatively new but uninspired. I live in a cookie-cutter, inexpensive seventies apartment that looks exactly like a cookie-cutter, inexpensive seventies apartment. Martha Stewart would have a cow over my apartment.
”Jeez,” I said, ”I'm really sorry about Steve. I didn't know you two were having problems.”
Valerie flopped onto the couch. ”I didn't know, either. He broadsided me. I came home from the gym one day and realized Steve's clothes were gone. Then I found a note on the kitchen counter about how he felt trapped and had to get away. And the next day I got a foreclosure notice on the house.”
”Wow.”
”I'm thinking this could be a good thing. I mean, this could open up all sorts of new experiences for me. For instance, I have to get a job.”
”Any ideas?”
”I want to be a bounty hunter.”
I was speechless. Valerie. A bounty hunter.
”Did you tell Mom?”
”No. Do you think I should?”
”No!”
”The thing about being a bounty hunter is that you make your own hours, right? So I could be home when the girls get out of school. And bounty hunters are kind of tough, and that's what I want the new Valerie to be . . . cheerful but tough.”
Valerie was wearing a red cardigan sweater from Talbots, designer jeans that had been ironed, and snakeskin loafers.
Tough seemed like a stretch.
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