The B Girls (4 page)

"Truman Standish makes dirty movies? Bald,
short, coke-bottle glasses Truman?" Mae said.

Jane nodded. "Oh yeah. Wanna hear about John
and Trish Markham?"

"I do," Lucy said. She felt a tiny twinge
of guilt at listening to such evil gossip but, well . . .

"They're swingers."

"No way! Not Trish. She leads a bible study
group at the Baptist church," Mae said.

"The very one," Jane said.

"And just how do you know all of this?"
Lucy wanted to know.

"The years I spent married to Lloyd were very
educational," Jane said.

"Oh my God you didn't . . . I mean you weren't
. . ." Mae couldn't find the words.

"Swinging with Trish and John?" Jane
shook her head. "No but not because they didn't try to convince me--all
three of them. It was the last straw that sent me to divorce court."

Mae didn't know what to say.

"So you see we all have our secrets,"
Jane said. "As for the designer diapers and the queen bee thing. You're
right but I doubt I saw more of my parents than you did yours--sleazy personal
injury lawyers make a lot of money but they work a lot of hours. And I like to
think I've grown a conscience since I tortured the less popular in high
school."

"I'm sorry," Mae said. "I apologize
to both of you I was out of line."

"No worries," Jane said.

"I'm just glad you got it out," Lucy
said.

"Let's get out of here," Jane said.
"We really need to kick up our heels."

###

"I guess everyone has their sacred cows,"
Lucy said when Jane turned up her nose at the Shitkicker's appetizers. What the
hell had she expected? Sushi?

Jane looked a little green around the gills.
"Sacred
cows?"

"
Okay, maybe that wasn't the best choice of
words." Lucy eyed the huge assortment of deep fried and sauced
food--including a basket of fatty ribs swimming in a brown sugar based barbecue
sauce. "But this isn't a salad bar kind of place."

"Can I help it if I have a fear of getting
fat?"

"Yes, you can. I've been meaning to tell you
you're starting to look a little pinched around the edges. That can happen when
the main staple in your diet is iceberg lettuce with lemon juice
dressing," Mae said.

"Besides, what's the difference between this
and that ice cream you put away this afternoon?" Lucy asked.

"That was a treat not a meal," Jane said.
"I shudder to think how much grease I could blot off this food with a
paper napkin."

Lucy held up a fork. "Blot any grease off of
this perfectly horrifying food and I'll stab you."

"Take your own advice and lighten up,"
Mae said. She took a handful of French fries dripping with melted cheese,
bacon, and chili, to emphasize her point.

Jane winced and reached for a Buffalo wing.
"I'll have to do doubles at the gym this week."

The girls were sitting at a table in the raised
dining area of The Shitkicker, decked out in their western finery waiting for
the evening's entertainment to start. Lucy had ordered one of every fattening,
greasy appetizer on the menu along with a pitcher of Spicearita's--signature
drink of the bar.

The Shitkicker was known for having the best live
bands, the best drinks, and the best time in all of Metro Atlanta. And the
girls had ringside seats.

"I thought bars like this died after the
Urban Cowboy
craze ended," Jane
said.

"I'm having a
Thelma and Louise
flashback myself," Mae said. "Are you
sure we should be doing this?"

"Of course we should be doing this," Lucy
said. "We're going to line dance when things get cranked. No soccer moms
here tonight."

"That's for sure, I feel like a character in a
B movie western," Mae said.

"Hey those B movie queens were pretty bad
ass," Jane said.

"Brazen," Lucy said.

"Bold," Mae said.

"Bitchy in a good way," Jane said.

Jane raised her glass for a toast. "To The B
Girls."

Lucy thought about that for a second. "I think
I like it. To The B Girls."

Mae raised her glass to join in the toast.
"Us?" Mae said. "The B Girls?"

Lucy and Jane nodded.

"Bold, Brazen, Bitchy, Brave and Bad
Ass--that's us," Jane said. "From this day forward."

Mae clinked glasses with them. "To The B
Girls." She prayed Chip and the kids would never find out about this.
They'd know she'd slipped gear if they could see her wearing a Stetson and
cowboy boots.

"You know," Lucy said, "I'm more of
a sagging C cup."

"Hey, speak for yourself. I don't plan on
anything sagging for at least ten more years," Jane said.

"At least as long as you have an underwire and
and a good plastic surgeon," Lucy said.

"I don't think her boobs are big enough to
sag," Mae said. "Mine on the other hand are in danger of getting
tucked into my waistband if I don't put on my bra first."

"Yow! Too much information," Jane said.
"And I'll have you know I'm toting around a pair of solid C cups."

Lucy gave her an exaggerated once over. "More
like a skimpy B."

Jane just shook her head. "This conversation
is getting a little too weird for me. I think it's time for Mae to join the
line dance."

Mae was shaking her head before Jane finished
talking.

"Oh yes you are," Jane insisted.

"You and Lucy go. I'll stay here and keep an
eye on our stuff."

"Lucy will sit this one out," Jane said.
"You're up first."

"I think I need another drink first. Alcohol
lends false courage and I could use a little right now," Mae said.

Jane stood and pulled Mae to her feet. "You
can use some of that false courage later when we get you up on the dance
bar."

The dance bar was a replica of the one the
bartenders worked behind but its purpose was only to display the dance skills
of the customers. Especially the female customers who were encouraged to
display their talents by the appreciative male customers.

Jane had spotted this unique feature of the
Shitkicker as soon as they walked in the door and decided that her goal in
life--or at least for tonight--was to get Mae up on that bar.

"Hell will freeze over before I dance on a
bar," Mae said.

###

"Who would've guessed?" Lucy said to Jane
as they watched Mae performing a complicated clogging routine on top of the
dance bar while the crowd cheered.

"Not me. I didn't think we'd get more than two
drinks in her, let alone get her up on that bar."

"You know what this means?"

"We have to get up there too?"

"Yep," Lucy said. "Thank God we'll
never see any of these people again. I'm afraid I don't have Mae's skill."

Jane shrugged and climbed the three steps placed at
the end of the dance bar to assist the less agile in reaching the top.

Lucy went up after her.

Mae grinned when she spotted them and issued a
silent challenge.

For the next five minutes Lucy and Jane did their
best to keep up while reveling in the drunken wolf whistles and cheers of the
crowd.

Sweaty and breathing hard, they shared a laughing
hug before climbing down.

"Call Larry," Lucy said. "I have an
idea."

Larry the Limo driver was providing them safe
passage tonight. They'd had to call four limo services before finding a car on such
short notice but Mae had been the only one willing to be the designated driver.

Unacceptable, Lucy had decreed. There would be no
DD on this trip.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Jane said as
she pulled out her cell phone.

"Then don't. I think it should be a
surprise."

Larry pulled the limo up to the front door of the
Shitkicker and got out to open the door for them.

Lucy pulled him aside for a whispered conversation
that made Jane frown when she saw the look of surprise on Larry's face. Mae
wasn't paying the least bit of attention.

Finally, Larry shrugged, grinned and handed Lucy
into the limo with Jane and Mae.

"So where are we going?" Jane asked.

Lucy shook her head. "Uh uh it's going to be a
surprise."

Fifteen minutes later, Larry brought the limo to a
stop outside of Spike's Tattoos.

Jane was shaking her head before Larry opened the
door. "No way. I'm not getting a tattoo."

Lucy laughed. "You don't have to. You can just
watch while I get mine."

"I think I want a tattoo," Mae said.
"A woman who dances on the bar at the Shitkicker Club should have a
tattoo. Maybe a nice butterfly."

"You're both crazy," Jane said.
"Maybe we should come back tomorrow when we're all sober."

Lucy pulled open the door and stepped inside.
"It'll hurt less with a few drinks onboard."

The beep of the automatic doorbell announced their
arrival and brought a man out of the back room.

"Can I help you ladies?"

"No," Jane said.

"Yes," Lucy said. "Are you
Spike?"

"I am. What can I do for you?"

Lucy was more than a little surprised. She'd
expected Spike to be sporting tattoos on most of his visible skin, wearing
black leather, and possibly pierced in places involving mucous membranes.

The real Spike was slim and wearing pressed jeans
with a golf shirt. His only piercing was a single in his left ear and his only
visible tattoo was a Celtic Cross on his right forearm.

"Can you do a tattoo of a bee?" Lucy
said.

"The letter B or the buzzing insect bee?"

"Insect. I'm thinking something about an inch
long right here." She pointed to her right butt cheek just below the
dimple in the small of her back.

"That's no problem." He walked behind a
counter and pulled out a book of art, flipped a few pages and held it out.
"How about this?"

Lucy looked at the picture of a small almost-real
looking honeybee. "Perfect. Let's do it."

"I want one too," Mae said.

"Lucy . . ." Jane said.

Lucy shot her a look. Getting this tattoo was a
declaration of independence. A marker for the start of a new, more adventurous
life. It was time for her to remember what it was like to have a future filled
with possibilities. After all, her future filled with
certainties
hadn't worked out so well.

Jane threw up her hands. "Fine. Go ahead. I'll
watch and say 'I told you so' tomorrow."

Spike looked at Jane. "Is there some reason I
shouldn't tattoo your friends?"

"Oh no. Go right ahead. They're just going
through their second adolescent rebellion, complete with impulse control
problems."

"That's why I have this lovely release of
liability," Spike said. "For buyer's remorse."

Lucy and Mae both signed while Jane shook her head
at them. Jane signed as witness and Spike invited them all into the back.

Lucy was sober enough to be comforted by the fact that
the place looked and smelled as clean as any hospital she'd ever been in. Her
new fearlessness only went so far.

She bared her butt and lay face down on the table.

Spike rubbed the spot with alcohol, then put
something that looked like one of those wet and apply tattoos from a Cracker
Jack box on. It was the outline of the bee Lucy had chosen.

"Okay now we're going to do the outline. It'll
probably sting but you have to hold still."

"No problem," Lucy said.

Spike pressed a button and the buzzing started.

Lucy was a trooper. No girly screams. Not even a
tear. She smiled through the entire experience.

When Mae's turn came she was stoic but grinned like
a fool when she admired her new body art in the mirror.

Jane couldn't stand it. "What the hell, give
me that release form."

###

Mae woke with a pounding head and a pounding . . .
butt?

She moaned and twisted her head around to try and
get a look at her ass.

The glaring white of the gauze square held on with
surgical tape brought it all back.

What the
hell had she done?

###

Jane didn't need the burning pain in her ass or the
sight of the bandage to remember. "Oh fuck," she muttered as soon as
she was fully conscious.