How Hard Can It Be? (13 page)
A very pale Poppy replied with a slight nod.
“All right, good,” I continued in a businesslike manner. “Are you related to this Walter Garski?”
Even paler, she gave me another almost imperceptible nod. God, this dude must be one awful son of a bitch. Poppy was terrified.
“You’re going to have to tell me who this Walter Garski is if you want me to help you,” I told her gently.
“No.”
“Does anyone else want to jump in here?” I looked around the room at the tight-lipped group.
“It’s not our tale to tell,” Nancy said, taking Poppy Harriet’s hand in hers. “Tell her, Poppy dear, she will understand. She won’t judge and she will still love you, just like we do.” Nancy gave me a warning look, indicating I would behave exactly as she said. I nodded and Nancy’s face relaxed.
Poppy Harriet expelled a giant, tragic sigh and began to untie her smart little neck scarf, revealing a huge Adam’s apple. WTF? How could Poppy Harriet have an Adam’s apple? Only men have . . . holy fuck.
“Um . . . Walter?” I asked Poppy, tentatively.
“I’m not Walter,” she shrieked. “I’m Poppy Harriet. I hate Walter.” She clutched her throat, hiding her Adam’s apple.
“Poppy Harriet,” Nancy admonished gently. “Rena is here to help you.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Rena,” she sniffled. She inhaled deeply and popped all her knuckles. “Yes, I was born Walter Garski, but I always knew God made a mistake. I was in the wrong body.”
Her tears fell unchecked. Nancy lovingly rubbed her back. “Go on, dear,” Nancy urged.
“Twenty years ago, after my mother died, I decided to live as a woman. I am a female with the wrong plumbing fixtures.” She smiled weakly.
“Do you have any other family?” I asked.
“Yes,” she hesitated, “I do, but they think I disappeared years ago. I assume they think I’m dead by now.”
“But you’re living in your mother’s house,” I shook my head in confusion.
“Walter sold it to me.”
“I see,” I answered as if that made a modicum of sense. “Did your family know about your, um, other half?”
“Oh, dear heavens, no. And they can’t ever know. They’re Polish.”
I had no idea what that had to do with anything, but knew far better than to ask.
“Poppy Harriet, you have a hundred thousand dollars and . . .”
She cut me off, “No. Walter Garski has a hundred thousand dollars. I am not Walter Garski.”
“No,” I agreed, “you’re not, but without Walter Garski, there would be no Poppy Harriet . . . and the world wouldn’t be quite as nice.”
She wrapped her sporty scarf back around her neck and placed her hands primly in her lap. “What do you want me to do?”
“Well, I think if you could, um . . . you know, make friends with Walter and ask him to, um, sign the checks, I could have them cashed for you and we could stop freezing our asses off.”
“I’m not sure I can do that. It would be illegal . . . I’d be impersonating a man,” she calmly and logically explained.
I was speechless.
“Goddamn it, Poppy,” LeHump groused, “sign the checks. It’s your money. We’re the only ones who know about Walter and . . .”
Joanne cleared her throat loudly. Nancy punched her in the arm and shushed her. “Not now, Joanne.” She was using her “don’t fuck with me” voice.
She didn’t need to say anything; I had already figured it out. Evangeline knew Poppy Harriet was a man and that’s why ten of Poppy’s books were sitting on the O shelf at the bookstore. I didn’t think my hatred could grow, but my contempt for the Viper knew no bounds.
“We won’t look,” I told Poppy Harriet. “Just go over there and sign the checks. Next week we will legally change Walter Garski’s name to Poppy Harriet or whatever the hell you want. You will keep his social security number, so you will be legal, and next year you’ll be able to sign your tax returns as Poppy Harriet.” I gave her a gentle push.
“It’s that easy?” Shoshanna asked.
“I’m pretty sure.” I smiled. “Everyone look down or turn away so Poppy Harriet can have some privacy.”
She grabbed my arm in a vise-like grip and swung me around like a rag doll to face her. Damn, she was strong. I don’t know how in the hell I didn’t guess her secret: the big hands, hairy lip, the low voice . . . “I don’t think I can do this.” She was getting hysterical and her grip tightened.
“Poppy Harriet, if you don’t let go of my arm, I’ll have to get it amputated.” I winced, but tried to keep my voice steady. Riling her up more could be unintentionally life-threatening.
“I’m sorry.” She let go, puffed out her silver curls, ran her hands over her hips, and adjusted her breasts. Having to sign checks as Walter was fucking with her femininity.
“Think of it this way,” I said, vigorously trying to rub the circulation back into my arm. “Soon Walter will be gone forever. Let him give you this parting gift. It would be a shame to let all this money go to waste. Maybe you could make an anonymous donation to a transgender support group.”
“Or you could have your penis removed,” Joanne volunteered.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Joanne,” Shoshanna groused, “if you put your foot any further into your mouth, it’s going to come out of your ass.”
“That’s just mean,” Joanne huffed, giving Shoshanna the bird.
I fully expected a slapping bitch fight to start any moment. I ran my hands through my hair and backed up into the corner. Getting in the middle of an old lady brawl was not my idea of a good time.
“No. Wait,” Poppy Harriet shouted, stopping the smackdown before it could start. “She’s right. With that money I could become who I really am.”
The window of opportunity was open and I climbed through. “You could think of it as Walter’s present to you. Proof of his love and approval . . .”
“You’re right.” Her smile broadened and her entire body tensed with excitement. She paced the room again, but it was different this time. Her energy and joy bounced off the walls.
“You just need to, um, bring Walter back long enough for him to sign the checks. Can you do that?” Crossing my fingers behind my back in hopes that the drama was over, I waited for the other shoe to drop, for Poppy Harriet’s head to start spinning or for a tantrum about hating Walter to destroy the progress we had made.
“I can do that,” she sang with intense pleasure. “Give me those checks.”
I love being wrong. I handed her the checks and she signed every one of them. “I’ll deal with the statute of limitations. There’s a tax specialist at my firm that will be able to get this done quickly. Do you have copies of your, um, I mean Walter’s past returns?”
“Yes, I do.” She grabbed a large box from beneath her desk and shoved it into my arms. “I’d be delighted for you to get this shit out of my house,” she said with a grin.
“I’m on it.” I grinned back. “Poppy Harriet, do you mind me asking how Walter made so much money over the years?”
“Not at all. He owns a chain of hardware stores. You know, the garden-variety kind.” She winked at me and pointed to the gnome sitting on top of her upright piano.
I rolled my eyes and wondered again how the smiling gnome figured into sex and decided I never wanted the answer to that one. Wait a minute . . . “Poppy Harriet, if Walter has so much in refunds, he must have one hell of a bank account.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Then why in the hell are you living in the tundra?” I demanded, completely confused.
“It’s Walter’s money, not mine,” she said.
“I think it’s time you and Walter had a little talk. Who’s been managing all these stores over the years?” I asked.
“People I hired,” she said sheepishly. “I work for Walter and receive a small salary to keep all the stores in line. He travels quite a bit and can’t actually do the day-to-day.” She smiled as if what she said was reasonable and sane.
“Have any of the people who work for Walter ever met him?” I had no idea what would come out of her mouth next, but I knew it would be memorable.
“Oh dear God, no, he’s agoraphobic.” She shook her head in disgust. All the ladies stared openmouthed. My mouth followed suit.
“Um, Poppy Harriet, would you mind terribly if I had Walter’s accounts changed to your name?” I waited for an explosion . . .
She was quiet for several long moments. The girls and I held our breath.
“That would be lovely,” she said. “It would make everything so much easier. I’ll just let everyone know Walter died and left me everything.”
I expelled the breath I’d been holding. “Okay, great.”
“Well now you can turn the fucking heat up and leave it that way,” Shoshanna grunted.
I smiled and watched all my little ladies hug and cry with each other. A stranger morning I’d never had, but in the end it turned out . . . strange. Good, but definitely strange.
After eating a small amount of cheese log and chili, Shoshanna and Nancy insisted on car shopping with me. Dread ripped through my stomach at the thought of Shoshanna cussing out someone at the dealership, or it could have been the chili. My fears were unfounded. Nancy turned out to be a shark negotiator, and I ended up with an icy blue SUV for well under list price. Nancy could have a lucrative side business as a car negotiator. She’s so damn nice the poor car guys didn’t realize what they had agreed to until it was too late. There were some tears, but shockingly enough, they weren’t LeHump’s fault. They were Nancy’s. She hugged all the car salesmen she’d bested and told them how wonderful they were and how proud she was of them. By the time we left, everyone had stopped crying. Except for the general manager. He would be crying for a week or so.
I knew I’d chosen the color of my brand spanking new car because of Jack’s eyes. That pissed me off some, but what’s a girl in lust to do?
After hugging my gals, I drove away in my new wheels, heading home to worry about the evening ahead. Everything had gone so well today that I knew my evening would more than likely blow up in my face. Oh well, two out of three ain’t bad.
Chapter 13
D
riving my new car to my childhood home felt good. Really good.
riving my new car to my childhood home felt good. Really good.
Thank God for that, because the evening ahead filled me with angst and was making my eye twitch. I need to relax. I certainly didn’t want to show up at my folks’ and be questioned about my new tic. I would have enough thrown at me without the addition of a neurological disorder.
“Why in the fuck did I eat Jack’s card?” I asked my steering wheel. It didn’t answer. The card-eating disaster kept biting me in the butt, hard. I wanted to talk out our history and get our lies straight. I was used to winging it on my own, but winging it in tandem scared the hell out of me. Of course, I couldn’t call him because I didn’t have his number. I didn’t even know his last name, for Christ’s sake.
Stepping out of the car, I adjusted my rockin’ hot flannel miniskirt and pulled my knee-high boots up. I’d dressed with care, but not because I gave a damn what Jack thought. I didn’t want my family to think I wasn’t serious about my fake boyfriend because I’d showed up in sweatpants. Who was I kidding? I adjusted my cashmere sweater with more force than necessary and admitted I’d worn a very formfitting top on purpose. I wanted him to suffer. Jack would be punished for making me use Vinnie the Vibrator the other night.
I stared up at my parents’ home and wondered what Jack would think. We lived in Hennepin County, one of the ritziest suburbs of Minneapolis, but our home wasn’t a nouveau riche McMansion. It was a pretty, classic Hampton design home, bought by my parents long before Edina had become so popular. I sucked in a large amount of oxygen because I knew my sister Jenny would be hogging it inside. I forced my feet to move and walked up the path, prepared to lie my ass off.
“Rena, you look gorgeous.” Mom grinned and raised her eyebrows, waggling them suggestively. Shit, this was going to be more painful than I’d thought. “Your boyfriend is lovely. I hope you don’t mind me inviting him to dinner.” She gave me her pouty face, daring me to answer her truthfully.
“Um, no. That’s okay,” I muttered, looking for some food to shove in my mouth to avoid having to speak. “He’s not here yet, is he?” I grabbed the side of the granite kitchen countertop in alarm. God, the things my family could tell him, without my running interference, made me shudder.
“No, sweetie pie, he’s not. I thought you would arrive together.” She waited for a response. I decided not to give her one.
“Rena,” Aunt Phyllis yelled from the great room, “did you and Jack get back together?”
“Why am I the last to hear about these things?” Mom huffed, giving me that look. The one that implies I’ve wounded her mortally and she will never recover. It used to work when I was little, but by the time high school rolled around, I had her number. Now it just makes me feel itchy.
“We’re fine,” I said loudly enough for Aunt Phyllis to hear. I searched the counter for food. Nothing. What in the hell was going on? Mom usually laid out enough to feed and kill an army. Normally I avoid the Crock-Pot dips, but tonight I’d wolf one in its entirety to get out of conversing. “Where’s all the food?”
“It’s in the dining room, I thought we’d be a little fancier tonight.” She chuckled like she’d made a good one. Thank Jesus I didn’t get my sense of humor or irony from her.
“Are Jenny and Dirk here?” I asked, hoping my sister was too bloated or her roots were too heinous for her to come this evening.
“Oh yes, sweetie. They’ve been here for an hour. They don’t want to miss a minute of you and your new beau.”
“I bet they don’t.” I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and slammed it shut. I shouldn’t have come. I should have waited outside for Jack, told him my family had leprosy, and sent him on his merry way. After I boinked him in my new car.
“Oh, honey bunch, you’re not going to drink, are you?” Mom’s hands fluttered nervously as she wiped down the spotless countertop with an oven mitt.
“Why?” I narrowed my eyes and waited for her frightening logic.
“Well, um, you’re a bit of a lightweight . . .”
“And?” I dared her to continue, knowing what was coming.
“There was that time you drank a little teensy-weensy bit too much and decided streaking would be a good idea.”
“Mom,” I ground out between clenched teeth, “that was my twenty-first birthday. I found my college roommate in bed with my boyfriend, and I didn’t get into my first choice for graduate school. Suffice it to say, that was a really bad day. Not to mention, it was almost ten years ago.”
She brought up the streaking incident every time I took a sip of alcohol. I did understand that some of my past choices had been creative, but having to live them down for an eternity was not fair. I smiled, took a huge swig of beer, and left the kitchen. There was only so much a girl could take . . . and it was only six-thirty. Shit.
The kitchen opened into the great room, which opened into the dining room. Basically, the first floor was a wide-open space with a few half walls and a couple of load-bearing ones. It’s beautiful, cozy, and warm. Unless my sister is inhabiting some of the space.
Aunt Phyllis and Dad were by the huge flagstone fireplace in the middle of an intense game of dominos. They took their gaming seriously. It’s the only time my dad can tolerate Aunt Phyllis. She rarely brings up aliens when she’s concentrating on kicking my dad’s ass. The dominos would lead to chess and chess would degenerate into what I like to refer to as Profane Poker. It’s no wonder I have a mouth like I do . . . For God-fearing Lutherans, my family can swear up a shit storm.
Interrupting their game could result in loss of body parts, so that left my sister to talk to. Crap.
“Hi Rena,” Jenny smirked, rubbing her belly while shoving some kind of cheese dip into her piehole. There was a little of it on her chin. Should I tell her? Hmmm.
“Hi Jenny, you look lovely tonight.” I smiled, hoping the cheese hardened and stayed there forever.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “What’s on my face?” she demanded.
Damn it, I shouldn’t have complimented her. It was a dead giveaway that something was off. I decided to be nice; maybe she’d cut me some slack when Jack got here. “Cheese on your chin.”
She went to wipe it off.
“Your other one.” I couldn’t help myself, it was just too easy.
“Oh my God, you’re such a butthole. I can’t wait till you get pregnant. I will give you hell every day,” she hissed.
“How will that be different from any other day?” I had a point. Yes, I was a bitch to her, but she usually started it and gave it back ten times worse.
“Oh shut up.” Her mouth pulled into a sour grin. “Dirk, will you get me an apple juice? Now.”
I hadn’t even realized Dirk was in the room. If you weren’t careful you could sit on him by accident. He was that quiet and that unobtrusive. I wondered how he stayed married to my sister, but some guys like girls who boss them around. Shoshanna made a living writing about girls dominating guys. Of course those gals use whips and butt plugs, but the basic principle is the same.
Dirk ran from the room like there was a fire. “Wow, that seems like a healthy relationship.” I plopped down on the chair, grinning at my evil sister.
“What in the hell would you know about relationships?” she snapped. “You can’t keep a boyfriend more than two weeks.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” I raised my eyebrow in preparation for the kill. “At least I’ve had boyfriends. You married the first person to ask you out on a date. Oh, wait a minute”—I slapped myself on the forehead—“he didn’t ask you out, you asked him. Sorry, I always get that part mixed up.”
“No problem,” she sneered, “at least he doesn’t have a rap sheet.”
I couldn’t be sure if she was talking about me or one of my former boyfriends. Either way, the shoe fit. Damn, we’re a loving family.
“So, your boyfriend Jack, I hear he’s a cop.” She’d run out of crackers, so she scooped her finger into the cheese dip and stuck it in her mouth. God, that was disgusting. “I didn’t think you went for law-abiding citizens.”
“I didn’t think you went for manners,” I shot back, realizing my comeback didn’t quite make sense, but I seem to have made my point. Jenny turned a fabulous shade of crimson and placed her cheesy fingers in her lap.
“You said he was in communications. Can’t you keep your boyfriends straight?” She smiled and I squirmed. Why couldn’t I have a nice sister? Or maybe the question should be, why couldn’t she?
“He is,” I mumbled. “He’s a cop communicator.” Shit, that was lame.
“Interesting.” She rolled her eyes. I could see her doctor brain working. It was probably a good time for me to lose an arm by interrupting my dad and aunt. “So,” she continued, enjoying herself, “his last name isn’t Snuffleupagus. What is his last name?”
Why in the hell would she ask me the one question I couldn’t make up a lie for? “Why does his last name matter?” I tried to turn the tables.
“I don’t know, I just want to hear you say it.” She was barely able to keep the laughter out of her voice. What did she know that I didn’t? My stomach started to churn. Instead of answering her, I put my entire hand in the cheese dip and shoved it into my mouth. “Oh my God,” she shrieked, “that’s gross.”
“You should know,” I said with a mouthful of dip. “Excuse me, I need a cracker.”
I ran to the kitchen, washed off my hand, and chugged a glass of water. I hate cheese dip. My heart was bouncing in my chest like a Mexican jumping bean. Jenny knew something that I didn’t. She knew Jack’s last name. It must be bad. Crap. How bad could it be? I paced the kitchen and stayed close to the front door. I needed to be the one who let Jack in. I needed to tell him about the communications angle and I sure as hell needed to find out his last name.
“Doorbell,” Mom shouted.
“I’ll get it,” I screeched, running like an Olympic sprinter. “Nobody else move.”
Skidding to a halt, I smoothed my sweater, shook my hair so it fell wildly around my face, pinched my cheeks for some color, yanked the door open . . . and time stopped. My breath caught in my throat and my tummy tingled. Why couldn’t I ever remember how good-looking he was? He made khaki pants look hot. A long-sleeved blue polo hugged his muscular chest perfectly and his eyes appeared bluer, but the part that made me weak was the leather bomber. Knowing he was a cop who looked like a bad boy sent me over the edge.
“Hi, Rena.” He smiled his oh-so-sexy smile and tried to step inside.
I gracelessly shoved him out the front door and shut it behind me. I had no time to admire my fake boyfriend. I needed to get him up to speed and I needed to do it fast. An information quickie, if you will. “You’re a cop communicator. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but that’s what you are. We met at the library a week ago Thursday and you have no problem with the fact I’ve been arrested.” I paused to take a breath before I fainted. “Wait, do you have a problem with me getting arrested?”
“Which time?” He grinned, backing me up against the solid oak door.
God, he smelled good. “Either,” I said, putting my hands on his chest to keep him from getting any closer.
“No, Rena, I have no problems.” He tried to swoop down for a kiss, but I wasn’t done yet.
“Good. Now what in the hell is your last name?”
“Snuffleupagus.”
“No, it’s not,” I giggled. I liked watching his lips move.
“Okay, you got me. It’s Sprat.”
I had no idea why Jenny thought Sprat was so funny. Jack Sprat. Jack Sprat. What’s wrong with... “Oh my God. Really?” I gasped. Could his parents have been so cruel as to have named him after a nursery rhyme? Could I date a nursery rhyme?
“No,” he chuckled, “not really.”
I expelled a huge sigh of relief. “What is it?”
“Careena. My name is Jack Careena.” He watched me for a reaction. I didn’t have one. I decided the pregnancy had eaten my sister’s brain. His name was fine. “Okay, whatever I say in there, just go with it.”
“You got it, baby,” he laughed, “but the same goes for you.”
The use of the word
baby
made my knees weak, I wondered if I had time to drag him to my new car and christen it. No, that could get awkward. My mom had seen me streak, but she’d never seen me do the nasty. Tonight didn’t seem like a good time to introduce that one.
baby
made my knees weak, I wondered if I had time to drag him to my new car and christen it. No, that could get awkward. My mom had seen me streak, but she’d never seen me do the nasty. Tonight didn’t seem like a good time to introduce that one.
“My family is insane,” I warned him.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He grinned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me inside. The look on my sister’s face when she laid eyes on Jack would last me a lifetime. She was salivating and her voice stopped working. My mom was acting like a teenage idiot, and I’m fairly sure Aunt Phyllis grabbed his ass. My dad behaved normally, but the real shocker was Dirk. Apparently, Jack had been a legal expert in a trial Dirk had worked on. They both seemed to admire each other quite a bit. Who knew? I didn’t even think Dirk could speak. After some small talk, where I quashed any childhood story my mom or Aunt Phyllis tried to tell, we sat down to dinner. I still wasn’t sure I trusted Jack completely, but he was a huge hit with the family.
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