Read Online The Diamond Lane by Karen Karbo - Free Book Online

bought illegal fireworks in Tijuana for the Fourth of July, and put away all her white clothes the day after Labor Day. Year in, year out, she got smashed at her own dinner parties and waltzed with herself around the swimming pool, singing either “Yellow Bird” or “ Ave Maria .”
    Mimi hated the idea that the universe was perhaps paying her back for her incaution. That her mother should have been peering over her shoulder all this time instead of blithely telling off the timid Jehovah’s Witnesses who came to the door and eating butter instead of margarine.
    Shirl lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes. Mimi stared at her crinkled bluish eyelids. She was afraid of thesilence. Hematomas formed themselves in silence, never when you were yukking it up.
    â€œI talked to Mouse,” she said.
    â€œMy little world traveler. Does she still have that disease? You know, that fungus that makes her fingernails turn green?”
    â€œShe’s coming home,” said Mimi. “I thought she’d want to see –”
    â€œShe’s coming home? Not because of me .”
    â€œWhat do you think? Of course because of you. There she is running all around bum-fuck Egypt Africa while you’re here –”
    â€œShhh, they may be Egyptian over there,” she said without opening her eyes. She rolled her head toward the curtain.
    â€œI thought you said it was the wife of the caviar king.”
    â€œCzar, caviar czar.”
    â€œI thought you’d want to see her. It was pretty easy to track her down. You know, I call long distance all over the world for Solly. She’s in Zah-ear. She got married.”
    Shirley’s eyes flew open. She sat straight up and said loudly, “Married? Mouse married?”
    â€œOr maybe she’s getting married. The connection wasn’t too good.”
    Shirl stared. “My baby. I thought all this time she was into that Women’s Lib.”
    â€œShe’ll probably want a big wedding. There’s really no other way to do it. I mean, my wedding could have gone bigger, but then I got married in the days when people didn’t really get married. I was sort of a trailblazer. You know me. If I was doing it today I’d have a sit-down, four hundred guests, the whole bit. I’d have more bridesmaids.”
    â€œYour wedding was lovely.”
    They never talked about the divorce.
    MOUSE AND HER husband, boyfriend, fiancé, whatever, were flying in the same night as Bibliothèques, the third Tuesday of the month. Mimi debated. Should she cancel or not?
    Bibliothèques was Mimi’s book group. Someone had suggested the name at their first meeting and it stuck. They thought it meant book-lover, then one of the members assistant-edited on a film shot in France and found out it meant library . They had been thinking of biblio philes . There were ten of them, all film people, aspiring actresses, aspiring directors, and like that. Mimi was proud to be the only hyphenate, an actress-writer.
    They read one difficult book a month, then met to discuss it. It had to be a book they wouldn’t read on their own. This was not a problem, since most of them only read and wrote coverage. Coverage was a one-page synopsis of a screenplay. This month was Mimi’s pick, Lust for Life . The meeting was held at the duplex she shared with Carole, which was why she was hesitant to cancel. The duplex was in West Hollywood, a great place for the price. Two big bedrooms, wood floors, high ceilings, no glitter in the stucco. The only drawback was the noise. All night, every night, disco music thumped and brayed up in the gay bars on Santa Monica Boulevard, a few blocks away. There was also the Special Police Task Force to Prevent Mimi FitzHenry From Ever Having a Good Night’s Sleep. At three o’clock every morning the police helicopter patrolled the alley behind the apartment. The whopp-whopp-whopp of the blades and the jillion-watt