Rest up in Odessa. That time was even better. I mean, he was able to go deeper. But it didn’t mean anything either time, you know? All we did was fuck. I didn’t even take off all my clothes.” She took another swallow of coffee. “I guess I didn’t tell you because I thought knowing about it might hurt your feelings.”
From what Marisa had seen in the short time she had known her, Tanya rarely concerned herself with anyone else’s feelings.
“You think I’m not hurt now,” Marisa said in a stage whisper, “finding out all of a sudden that he’s a, a...a damn Roto-Rooter? That besides knocking up infants, he screwed around with my neighbor? I didn’t have a clue.”
“Hey, don’t blame me. Until you started dating him, I hadn’t seen him in years.”
“Dammit, even if it was ten years ago, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. How would you like it if I told you I fooled around with Jake ten years ago?”
Tanya shrugged. “I’d say, ‘No big deal. That was then, this is now.’”
Marisa could only blink. The words that fell from Tanya’s mouth often left her dumbfounded.
Marisa set her jaw, trying to shut out the image of Woody and Tanya doing it on the end of a picnic table and thinking about something she had read once about character being formed by the time people are six years old. Or something like that. The voice of another expert. Her head was filled with incomplete snatches of trivia that came back at unpredictable moments. As she took a sip of her Columbian Roast, she concluded she would be happier if she stopped reading.
“Well, gotta go,” Tanya said. “Gotta do a perm. Bring Raylene over this afternoon and I’ll do her hair.”
Tanya always fussed over Mama’s hair and if there was time, they even played with makeup.
Refusing to let her annoyance at the hairdresser affect something Mama enjoyed, Marisa said, “Sure.”
“When you come over,” Tanya added, “I’ll show you the new stuff I made. I took those pieces of raw amethyst those rockhounds from Arizona gave me and mixed them with some turquoise. I made this cross thing out of hammered silver. I only had enough stones for a pair of earrings and a pendant, but they look pretty.”
“Sure,” Marisa said again, although, at the moment, she didn’t care if she never saw Tanya Shepherd again.
And she was damn glad she hadn’t mentioned the sexy stranger who had come into the café and how they had danced to Frank Sinatra’s music from the old juke box.
A new visual of Woody came to her and she managed to grin inside. Now, she, too, would want to die laughing every time she heard someone call him Woody.
Chapter 7
After Tanya left, Marisa let go of her anger. Hanging onto it accomplished nothing. Tanya had always been an enigma. Marisa realized mere minutes after meeting her that she was empty-headed and self-centered. Yet, she was generous to a fault and never failed to show concern and compassion for Mama. So Marisa usually excused her more bizarre behavior and ignored her blunt remarks. After all, she was an artist and weren’t artists supposed to live in a realm apart from the rest of the population?
Marisa picked up a pitcher of tea and moved down the counter to where Gordon Tubbs sat, his bald pate gleaming under the fluorescent light mounted above the lunch counter. Marisa suspected he had been straining to hear the conversation between her and Tanya, but he gave no indication he knew what they had said. “Want some more tea?” she asked him.
He shook his head, keeping his eyes on his salad. He forked a tomato wedge. “Guess I’ll soon be leaving, Marisa.”
Gordon was a gentle man, but usually morose about something. Marisa steeled herself against letting his pessimism affect her. God knew she had enough depressing thoughts of her own; she didn’t need his, too. She set the tea pitcher on the back counter and pulled a two-quart plastic pitcher of sugar from a shelf under the drainboard
From what Marisa had seen in the short time she had known her, Tanya rarely concerned herself with anyone else’s feelings.
“You think I’m not hurt now,” Marisa said in a stage whisper, “finding out all of a sudden that he’s a, a...a damn Roto-Rooter? That besides knocking up infants, he screwed around with my neighbor? I didn’t have a clue.”
“Hey, don’t blame me. Until you started dating him, I hadn’t seen him in years.”
“Dammit, even if it was ten years ago, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. How would you like it if I told you I fooled around with Jake ten years ago?”
Tanya shrugged. “I’d say, ‘No big deal. That was then, this is now.’”
Marisa could only blink. The words that fell from Tanya’s mouth often left her dumbfounded.
Marisa set her jaw, trying to shut out the image of Woody and Tanya doing it on the end of a picnic table and thinking about something she had read once about character being formed by the time people are six years old. Or something like that. The voice of another expert. Her head was filled with incomplete snatches of trivia that came back at unpredictable moments. As she took a sip of her Columbian Roast, she concluded she would be happier if she stopped reading.
“Well, gotta go,” Tanya said. “Gotta do a perm. Bring Raylene over this afternoon and I’ll do her hair.”
Tanya always fussed over Mama’s hair and if there was time, they even played with makeup.
Refusing to let her annoyance at the hairdresser affect something Mama enjoyed, Marisa said, “Sure.”
“When you come over,” Tanya added, “I’ll show you the new stuff I made. I took those pieces of raw amethyst those rockhounds from Arizona gave me and mixed them with some turquoise. I made this cross thing out of hammered silver. I only had enough stones for a pair of earrings and a pendant, but they look pretty.”
“Sure,” Marisa said again, although, at the moment, she didn’t care if she never saw Tanya Shepherd again.
And she was damn glad she hadn’t mentioned the sexy stranger who had come into the café and how they had danced to Frank Sinatra’s music from the old juke box.
A new visual of Woody came to her and she managed to grin inside. Now, she, too, would want to die laughing every time she heard someone call him Woody.
Chapter 7
After Tanya left, Marisa let go of her anger. Hanging onto it accomplished nothing. Tanya had always been an enigma. Marisa realized mere minutes after meeting her that she was empty-headed and self-centered. Yet, she was generous to a fault and never failed to show concern and compassion for Mama. So Marisa usually excused her more bizarre behavior and ignored her blunt remarks. After all, she was an artist and weren’t artists supposed to live in a realm apart from the rest of the population?
Marisa picked up a pitcher of tea and moved down the counter to where Gordon Tubbs sat, his bald pate gleaming under the fluorescent light mounted above the lunch counter. Marisa suspected he had been straining to hear the conversation between her and Tanya, but he gave no indication he knew what they had said. “Want some more tea?” she asked him.
He shook his head, keeping his eyes on his salad. He forked a tomato wedge. “Guess I’ll soon be leaving, Marisa.”
Gordon was a gentle man, but usually morose about something. Marisa steeled herself against letting his pessimism affect her. God knew she had enough depressing thoughts of her own; she didn’t need his, too. She set the tea pitcher on the back counter and pulled a two-quart plastic pitcher of sugar from a shelf under the drainboard
Similar Books
