Page 53 of Love & Rockets

Both Bubba and Zelda stopped what they were doing and stared at her in disbelief. Finally, Zelda Jo curled the cup she held protectively into her chest. “Farrah,” she said with uncharacteristic stiffness. “And the poor woman has passed away, so I’d think twice before you go speakin’ ill of the dead again.”

Darla expelled her breath in a gush and let her head fall forward, her chin almost touching her sternum. There was no way in heaven or hell she’d get out of this kitchen without an apology, a complete retraction, and a side of groveling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak ill of her—”

“No, only of me.” Ice leaped from the cup as Zelda Jo slammed it down on the counter and turned to face her. “You’ve been jealous of me since the day you stepped foot in this place,” she accused.

“Now, ladies—” Bubba tried.

Darla had to give him credit. But this was an old refrain played each and every time she and Zelda failed to see eye-to-eye. His signature on their paychecks was no match for two palms held up to halt his intervention.

“I’m not jealous of you, Zelda Jo,” Darla said with exaggerated patience. “I don’t want your hair or your clothes or your man—no offense, Bubba,” she said quickly.

“None taken,” he replied, sighing as he turned back to the order slips arrayed in front of him.

“I’m not sad and lonely because I had a baby and no man wants me,” Darla continued before Zelda Jo could slip a word in edgewise. “As a matter of fact, your precious John-John does want me, but I don’t want him.”

Both of Zelda Jo’s brows shot skyward. “Are you sure, little miss hoity-toity?”

No, she wasn’t sure. But there was no way she’d admit as much. Not when she was facing another Friday night without him. Another night alone.

“Jake and I are friends. That’s all.”

One brow sank, but the other remained true to Zelda Jo’s skepticism. “So you don’t mind he’s out there sharing a booth in my section with a girl who doesn’t look a whole lot older than Gracie?”

“He’s what?” Fight forgotten in the face of more pressing issues, they moved in unison toward the entrance to the kitchen area. Darla slipped under the taller woman’s arm and the two of them peered around the corner at the exact same time. “Where?”

“Number four,” Zelda whispered back. “I’d hoped she’d ask for a beer so I could card her, but she didn’t.”

“We don’t serve beer,” Darla murmured as she zoomed in on the table in question.

“Well, it was that or cigarettes, and we don’t sell those, either.” She paused for a moment then straightened. “Did I tell you they tried to card me for cigarettes down at the Citgo?”

“Focus.” Darla hissed the word from between clenched teeth, and Zelda Jo instantly leaned in again. “I can’t get a good look at her.”

“Your friendly Dr. Dalton sure is lookin’ good.”

“Zelda Jo.” Whipping a mom move out of her bag of tricks, Darla reached back and gave her companion a quick pinch without even looking. “Is she really young?”

The hair on the back of her head stirred as Zelda gave up her hyperbole. “Okay, not Gracie-young, but young. Maybe twenty or so?”

“Twenty?” In the blink of an eye, Darla became all too aware of her own thirty-something status. She ran the pad of her finger over the fine spray of wrinkles reaching for her temple and winced. “Jake’s older than I am. What would he be doing with a girl younger than me?”

Zelda Jo snorted as she straightened. “The same thing they all want to do with girls that young.”

Darla swallowed hard and leaned back into the safety of the steamy kitchen. Pressing her hand to her chest, she breathed slow and deep, trying to ease the ache caused by the bruising throb of her heart.

Before she could collect her thoughts, Zelda Jo loaded her orders onto a tray and shoved it at her. “Take this. And take the long way around coming back. You’ll see what I mean.”

She looked the woman—best friend and fiercest enemy—straight in the eye for the first time since she uttered her hairdo heresy. “I’m not sure I want to.”

Zelda Jo planted her hand on one hip and cocked it. “Sugar, you are the only person in all of south Alabama who was buying the line you were sellin’ about you and Junior being nothing more than friends. That girl out there hasn’t even lost her baby teeth yet. You go out there and show her how the big girls play.”

Not seeing any better alternative, Darla grasped the tray in both hands, pivoted on her heel, and rolled her shoulders back in preparation for battle. Behind her, Bubba murmured something under his breath about having a thing for Farrah Fawcett and her red bathing suit, but she couldn’t think too hard about Zelda Jo in a flaming one-piece. Not when Jake was right out there. On her turf. With someone else.

When they embarked on their affair, they’d agreed on two major points. No strings, and no messy stuff afterward. Fun and sex and friendship for as long as they were both enjoying themselves. The thought that Jake might tire of their arrangement never occurred to her. Sure, she’d assumed he’d be more than happy to take all the complication-free sex he could get for as long as he could get some, but Jake didn’t strike her as the type to go from girl to girl. She should have known better. Jake had never been a predictable guy.

Two weeks of silence.

God. Was there anything quieter than a phone that refused to ring? She took the damn thing to bed with her, telling herself she kept her cell close at hand just in case. In case of what, she didn’t know. Jake, Connie, and Grace were the only ones who ever called her on it. Connie went to bed promptly at nine every night, claiming she was unable to break herself of the habit of rising early. Grace was fast asleep on the other side of the wall.

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