Page 3 of Bless This Hot Mess
The speaker crackled with Japheth’s laughter, “Fine. He’s not Domino’s.”
“He makes people wait for the good stuff. The stuff that’s worth waiting for.”
HONK! HONK!
Rebekkah waved an apologetic hand out the window as Japheth pressed her, “You gonna order something?”
Rebekkah leaned in closer, “Umm, my usual? But hold the…”
“Ring of fire sauce. I know.”
Rebekkah’s phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at the screen, squinting at the familiar name. “It’s my… hi, Mom! Yes, I’m at Saddles ‘n’ Spurs… Well, if I hold up the phone to the speaker, he’ll be able to hear you, too. Hold on.”
She held her phone through the window, balancing it against the intercom speaker. On the other end of the line, Rebekkah’s mom’s voice rang out, clear and commanding, “Igot you two a gig! This could be huge. Lots of important people are gonna be there; the Ferraris, the Burns…”
“I told you Japheth, we just had to be patient!” Rebekkah’s eyes widened. “What’s the gig, Mom?”
“I booked you…” She drew out the phrase deliciously.
“Yes?” Rebekkah asked, both anticipating and relishing in the way her mom stretched out their wins, however big or small they may be.
“As the headlining act…” her mom continued.
“Yes? Yes?!” Rebekkah pressed, her heart racing.
“At the funeral of Emma-Lou Burns’ parents!”
Rebekkah’s grin faltered, “Oh. Wow. That’s, um, great.”
Japheth leaned his forehead against the drive-through window. “Another funeral? Really great.”
HONK! HONK!
“Order your drumsticks and move your rust bucket!” The apparently very hungry driver behind Rebekkah suggested. Aggressively.
Rebekkah sighed, pulling her phone and greasy bag of fried chicken back into the car as she pulled up to Japheth’s window. “Thanks, Mom. Gotta go now, appreciate the gig.”
“One more thing honey! You two gotta get out of your own way. You gotta…” Rebekkah’s mom served up her catch phrase as often as Saddles ‘n’ Spurs offered their famous Ring of Fire sauce.
“Giddy-up and let God,” Rebekkah and Japheth finished for her and surprisingly felt a little glimmer of hope.
If there was one thing more disorienting than losing your parents at sea, it was signing away their legacy to the soundtrack of a drunken trombone.
Emma-Lou stood on the sidewalk outside Weinus, Weinus, and Ware Law Firm, taking deep, measured breaths. The faded brass plaque above the door gleamed dully in the afternoon sun as the faint sounds of the city bustled around her; traffic humming, birds chirping, the roll and clatter of garbage and recycling bins after collection being returned to the businesses lining the street.
“Come on, Emma-Lou,” she muttered to herself, dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “Pull up your lady-pants and stop snifflin’. You march into that office and do what Mamma and Big Daddy would’ve wanted.”
She tugged open the heavy door, the bells above it jingling softly, and strode into the quiet reception area, which was startled awake by a ringing phone. The air smelled of stale coffee and dusty, worn-out carpets, and the floor groaned beneath her boots with every step.
“Weinus, Weinus, and Ware. Have you had a slip-and-fall accident? No? Please hold.” Behind the desk, Betty, the receptionist, looked up and smiled warmly. “Emma-Lou! What a blessing to see you.” She stood up, motioning toward the heavy door to her right. “Mr. Weinus is expecting you. You can go right in.”
Emma-Lou nodded, offering a weak smile, “Thanks, Betty. Good to see you, too.”
“Oh, and I’ll be there tomorrow night,” Betty added with a wink. “I’m bringing my famous date-nut bars, hold the nuts, of course.”
Just then a fax machine rang and began sputtering out pages. “I’m sorry, Emma-Lou, gotta run, it’s like Grand Central station here today.”
Emma-Lou mustered a chuckle, trying to shake off the weight in her chest as she crossed the room and knocked gently on Stanford Weinus’ office door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside, clicking the door shut softly behind her.
