The B Girls - By Cari Cole Page 0,2

sound drunk."

There were more mumbled words and splashing in the background.

"Lucy what's going on?"

"Nawt Bellll."

"No, this is Jane. Lucy, what--"

The line went dead. Shit.

Had she said Gary left her?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That's exactly what those first slurred words had been.

She scrolled to Mae Taylor's number and hit the dial button.

"I don't have time to talk," she said when Mae answered. "Lucy just called and she's in bad shape. Gary left her. She sounded very drunk and I heard splashing. You need to get over there and make sure she's not drowning or dying of alcohol poisoning. I'll get there as soon as I can."

Mae said she was on her way out the door.

Jane hung up and turned around in time to see Missy rub up against Timmy again. Watched her lean in for a little more whispering of obscene nothings. Missy was one determined trophy wife.

No doubt Timmy had walked out on the first Mrs. Spaulding in order to marry Missy. Just the way Gary had walked out on Lucy.

Anger painted hot streaks of red up Jane's knife-edged cheekbones and the tips of her nails scored temporary half-moons into her palms.

Without warning, something inside her broke loose and started bouncing around like a pinball careening off those rubber bumpers.

Jane tried to resist the evil impulse, she really did. She tried to think about the commission. She tried to think about being unemployed.

She didn't succeed.

"For God's sake Timmy just tell Missy how many blow jobs it's going to cost her to live near the Governor so she can agree and we can all go home."

Mae Taylor Cleans Up

Mae Taylor hit the off button on the phone and went in search of her husband. He wasn't going to be pleased that she was taking off without leaving dinner but Jane's fear for Lucy was catching.

Chip was in the family room with beer and pretzels watching the Braves game on the super jumbo TV.

What else would he be doing on a Saturday afternoon after playing a round of golf in the morning?

Mae took a deep breath, smoothed her already perfect hair, and entered the lion's den.

"Chip?"

He responded with a "hmmm" without looking away from the game.

"I have to go over and check on Lucy. She's upset about something."

"Okay. What's for supper?"

"I don't know. I might not be back in time to cook."

That got his attention. "Why not? Can't Gary handle whatever's going on over there?"

"Gary seems to be the problem."

Chip let out a put upon sigh. "Fine. I suppose if you don't make it back the kids and I can order pizza."

As if that was such a hardship. Pizza was generally the food of choice for Chip and her two teenagers.

"Good but it'll just be you and Chelsea. Trey is spending the night at the Longs. Make sure he has his toothbrush and tell him to use it. Tell Chelsea her cheerleading uniform is in the dryer she needs to get it out and hang it up before it wrinkles."

"I'll try to remember. When will you be home?"

"I don't know. I'll call if it's going to be late."

Chip grunted in response, his attention recaptured by some cheering and excitement from the game.

Blessedly dismissed, Mae went back to the kitchen to grab her purse and keys. Lucy's house was only two blocks away but she was in a hurry and didn't know what she was going to find when she arrived.

As she opened the door and slid behind the wheel, the minivan exhaled the lingering smell of fast food, trapped since their last stop at Wendy's on the way home from cheerleading practice. She made a mental note to Febreeze the upholstery.

Mae drove past her neighbor's perfect homes, each one different--God forbid people who drive the same cars, wear the same clothes and belong to the same clubs should live in houses that looked alike--each one with an identical mailbox at the curb. Even on Saturday, there weren't a lot of people out and about. The landscapers handled the yard work, the pools were hidden behind privacy fences and children started and ended their journeys to activities in closed garages.

Yep, they were just one big happy family out here in the suburbs. Southerners weren't any more inclined to gossip over fences than transplanted Yankees in upscale Metropolitan Atlanta neighborhoods.

Mae pulled into Lucy's driveway two minutes later.

The front door wasn't locked and Mae didn't bother to knock, from what Jane said it wasn't likely Lucy would answer.

Mae stepped into the foyer. I Will Survive by Gloria