Page 52 of Dirty Laundry (Down and Dirty)

Heidi made a sound that was probably supposed to be a growl of disgruntlement, but it seemed more like a threatening purr to Carine.

Being careful not to smudge her eyeshadow, Heidi dragged a hand down her greasy face. She didn’t want to think about Heidi purring for the same reason she didn’t want to think about Heidi in sheer blouses. Carine was an easily stimulated ding-dong who was developing an obsession with a certain unpredictable dominatrix. Her preoccupation didn’t seem healthy, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her. There were far too many aspects about Heidi she’d never needed to wonder about before, likely because she’d never thought Heidi would ever be up close and personal with her undercarriage.

“They said they’d come,” Heidi said. “Does that mean I don’t get to see Kalimah?”

“Mm. Dunno,” Tim grumbled. He must have been standing right beside Heidi. “She and Kevin are pretty serious, but I think having your parents there would force her to put on a performance she might not want to do. She’s used to being more private.”

“I know. She’s part of the reason Kevin’s mellowed out so quickly. He’s very protective of her. Call me selfish, but given his journey, I’d prefer if she didn’t hitch up her skirts and run for the hills.”

“I can come to be a decoy,” Carine found herself suggesting.

Eek. You were supposed to be pretending you weren’t there, goofy.

Heidi didn’t say anything, and Carine pressed her lips together tightly so she didn’t say anything else, either.

Carine hoped Heidi’s silence meant she was thinking of a way to let Carine down kindly. Carine didn’t actually know what she’d volunteered for. She’d empathized with Kalimah having to be in the hot seat and under the scrutiny of the extremely strait-laced Murrays. Carine was old enough and experienced enough to not care what the community pillars thought about her. Kalimah was going to sweat bullets and feel like she didn’t belong because she wasn’t of the right denomination, the right color, or from the correct side of the river bridge.

“Have you met my parents?” Heidi asked.

“In passing once at a chamber of commerce event.”

“Not long enough to get the full effect, then. They’re definitely the love the sinner, hate the sin sort of folks.”

“And you’re having dinner with them, why?”

“Because one’s grandmother only turns eighty-five once. When one’s grandmother turns eighty-five and decides she wants to have cake at her little lesbian’s fancy city house—her words, not mine—then one has dinner with one’s parents.”

Tim mumbled something indecipherable in the background.

“No, that’s what she said, Timmy. Can’t seem to remember my name half the time, but she can remember I’m a lesbian and that she loves me to pieces.”

Carine wasn’t sure if laughing was the appropriate reaction to that miniature monologue or if grave silence was more appropriate. Thankfully, Tim was on the other end filling the air, so she didn’t have to figure it out.

“It should be a lively evening,” he said conclusively.

“Mm-hmm. I’m sure you thought the divorce let you off the hook from having to do these, but this is what you get for remaining friendly with me. Social obligations with the uptight Murrays.”

“Valerie and I will have a good excuse to leave early. Naomi will be wanting a binky and her bed.”

“Lucky you.”

Tim must have drifted off to do work because when Heidi continued, her statement was obviously meant for Carine’s ears only. “Don’t get involved. If you show up, my mother will have the whole of Northeastern North Carolina praying for you. I’m not always convinced that’s in anyone’s best interest given who the prayer warriors are.”

“Come on, now, Heidi. You think I’m not used to that?” Carine said with a snicker. “I’ve lived in this area all my life. The first time a prayer phone tree got activated on my behalf was after my mother told her Bible study group that I was going up another bra size. She told them to please pray for my modesty and prudence. She should have told them to save their prayers for the boys snapping my bra straps at school.”

“All right. So, you know the stakes. Still. No one should subject themselves to that sort of cruelty on purpose, and I happen to know you’re not that kind of masochist.”

“Are you allowed to talk about masochism at work?” Carine asked.

“You can when your ex-husband’s last name is on the sign out front. I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone else. And besides, my door is closed.”

“No interns lurking, then?”

“Every intern scheduled for today is in the break room eating crabs. Derrick Payne’s father works at the fishery. He brought in a bushel and boiled them in the parking lot.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a really Rocky Hock thing to do.”

Heidi was silent on her end.

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