Some teeth are better than none

Recap of the latest mishap:  Jane, Olivia and shoppe owner Selma are in a seedy dive bar to celebrate Olivia's spur-of-the-moment bachelorette party.

Jane took one more look at the lanky guy.  With her mascaraed eyes, she attempted to convey a look of want, but also a look that said, "I better not be putting effort into getting on your jock only to find a rash down there.  Because I WILL keep the restroom lights on.  Oh I will.  And I am not a doctor but I know herpes when I see it so don't think you can pull the sexual wool over my eyes."

Next to her, Olivia giggled.  "You're going for that guy?" she laughed.  "He's so thin!  He might be thinner than you."

"I totally take offense to that remark," Jane said.  "I'll have you know that not only have I been taking a supreme amount of laxatives, I have cut my calories to about 300 per day, if you don't count my alcohol consumption.  All of those 300 calories come from lean protein.  I'm at the gym seven days a week for at least two hours a day and I don't drink water because I know a woman's body retains that hydration shit."

Olivia's jaw dropped.

"I don't even HAVE electrolytes anymore," Jane sneered.  "I could pass out at any time, in any place.  But that is real dedication to perfection, if you ask me.  I am THAT bitch."

Olivia nodded slowly.  "I started taking Jazzercise.  Once a week.  But I work up quite a sweat in that church basement."

Jane nodded approvingly.  "Consider throwing up once or twices before the wedding.  Anywho, time for rum and coke.  We need to space out the shots or Selma's going to get wise and stop footing the bill."

The two women walked over to the matronly lady who was counting dollar bills and then handing them to the bartender one by one.  There was an untouched tequila shot in front of her.

"You going to do that shot?" Jane asked.

"I told you, I have diabetes!" Selma snapped and threw the money on the counter.  "That could do horrible things to my blood sugar and I only have one functioning kidney."

Jane shrugged and did the shot for her.  She looked down at the plump little shoppe owner and then turned to the bartender.

"Two rum and cokes for me and Olivia.  One water for Selma.  Oh, and if you have bar nuts or free popcorn or something, give them to her too.  She's got the diabetes."

Selma sighed loudly and looked around the joint, folding her chubby arms across her sturdy breasts.  "You won't ever find me in a place like this.  I have too much dignity, thank you very much.  Only the lowliest of the lows come into this place.  Townies, or drifters.  People who have lost touch with the Lord."

"Do you know anyone in here?" Jane asked.

"Of course I do," Selma said, very obviously trying to avoid all eye contact with the patrons.  Every one of these boys and girls has grown up in this town and no matter how hard their mommies and daddies tried - and some of them had good God-fearing parents - they couldn't save them."

The drinks arrived and Olivia and Jane began sucking them down.  "Tell me about that guy over there," she instructed Selma.  "The tall one, kinda cute."

"Oh that's Jonathan Cromski," Selma said.  "Gracie and Tim's boy."

"Were Gracie and Tim God-fearing parents?"

"Nope," Selma shook her head.  "Gracie was a whore.  She modeled lingerie at a store in Clarksville.  If a gentleman came in and purchased over $50 of nighties or what have you, he could get Gracie to model whatever he was buying.  Model it in the back... in a PRIVATE room."

"Did she get tips?" Jane inquired.  Olivia snarfed her drink and cried out in pain.

"And Tim had a real drinking and gambling problem," Selma continued.  "The police used to find him in the public restrooms of the library each morning, just sleeping off the booze."

"Maybe he was just reading really late into the night," Jane suggested.  "So apart from having a busted lingerie model as a mom and a drunk for a dad, old Johnny boy seems pretty normal, right?"

"He's got a real problem with meth anphetamines," Selma answered.  "Lost some teeth, you know."

"Well, I was planning on sucking face with that meth head," Jane said.  "I wonder what the chances are that a tooth might come flying out into my own mouth."

Selma looked disgusted and Olivia, now getting happily tipsy, started laughing hysterically.

"You don't know where that mouth has been," Selma said.  "And you can't go kissing perfect strangers.  What kind of young lady are you?"

"The whorish kind," Jane shrugged.  "The kind that reminds Johnny boy of his mama.  I'll need another drink before I go smooch that mouth of Indian Corn.  Ok, Selma.  Tell us about some of the other people here.  Who else did the police find passed out in the library?"

Selma scanned the room.  "Well, there's the librarian himself, James Curran.  The one with his head down on the bar.  He's a special kind of drunkard."

"You know that's funny," Olivia said, her voice high and cutesy.  "I always thought small town librarians were women.  Actually I thought all librarians were women.  I mean, I don't want to be sexist, but they're all women in the movies.  Like that opening scene in Ghostbusters..."

"He might not be a woman," Selma told her, then leaned in for a whisper.  "But he enjoys dressing up as one.  Shoes, slips, lipstick.  The whole sha-bang.  He's a trans-ves-tite."

"We have plenty of those in New York!" Jane poo-pooed.  "And they are fabulous.  Always going around saying fabulous, empowering things.  Kinda like listening to Aretha Franklin on repeat.  I bet he has some amazing wigs.  I'm going to go see."
Jane swished over and shook the man to attention.  "Hi," she spoke loudly in case the booze was clogging his ears.  "My name's Jane.  I love bras and high heels too.  Wanna do shots with my friend whose getting married?"

From behind her, Olivia giggled and burped.  Then waved sweetly.

The man looked thoroughly confused, but heard the offer of a drink and attempted to sit up as straight as possible.  Selma stood where Jane had left her, looking disgusted, and Jane decided that this round would also be on the judgmental Selma's dime.  God-fearing Jane's ass.  Jane vaguely remembered some God line about living in a glass house and not throwing shit around, but the nascent thought was soon zapped by rum.

The bartender came over with three shots and set them down.  The librarian looked at the girls, as if checking to see if the shot truly was meant for him.  Jane nodded and the three downed the drinks.

"So tell us something funny!" Jane shouted, slamming her glass down on the wood of the bar.  "Something sassy.  Tell us how to get our groove back."

The librarian furrowed his brows.  "Thank you for the drink.  Um, I don't think I know anything sassy.  We have some new books in the young adult fiction section though.  Pretty steamy stuff.  Partial nudity.  Inferred sexual contact.  Great for the imagination."

Jane stared at him for a moment, her brow wrinkled.  "I'm down with partial nudity," she finally said.  "And any type of sexual contact - inferred or otherwise.  It is somewhat creepy that you, an old tranny, is getting his jollies through the YA section though and, I'll be honest with you - it's killing my buzz.  So.  We'll catch you later."

Jane and Olivia began to walk away when suddenly Jane's face came in contact with a broad chest, clad in flannel.  The meth head had made his move.

"Hi," Jane purred.  "Hello there, stranger."

"Saw you looking at me," Jonathan said in a low voice.  "Is there something you want?"

"Oh there's something that I want," Jane said.  "And I intend to get it."

"She intends to get it!" Olivia chimed in.  "Get it, got it, good!"

Jane leaned in to the boy toy.  "Look, I want to get nasty with you.  Real nasty.  So nasty, you may consider going to confession the next day.  But I need a dude for my girl here.   She's getting married in the next couple of days, so no play whatsoever.  Just a guy to keep her busy for a few moments.  You know anyone like that?"

"I just happen to have my good friend Harry with me here tonight," Jonathan answered, breaking into a smile. 

Shit, Jane thought.  I can already see toothless gaps towards the back.

"Very good.  Set that up," Jane said.  "But try not to smile that much.  I like to take everything really seriously.  Where's Harry?"

Within ten minutes, Olivia was planted on a stool next to a fat, bearded lump of a truck driver, Selma was still nursing a water at the bar, the drunken librarian had slumped back down in his chair, and Jane was on her back in the bed of a rusty Chevy pick-up truck with a shirtless Jonathan hovering above her. At least he'd laid down an old blanket so there was a chance Jane might not get tetanus.

The druggie would have been sexy, she thought, had his ribs not been so visible.  And there was that jagged scar that ran down the right side of his body.  She wondered if a meth deal had gone awry.  

He went into kiss Jane and she turned her head to the side and laughed playfully.  She was drunk, but not drunk enough to stick her tongue into that rotten mouth.  She grabbed his skinny little hips and pulled them closer to hers and began grinding.  Then she felt the vibrations.

"Did you bring a vibrator?" she asked.

"No," he answered, breathing heavily.  "You want me to start up the truck?  It'll be just like one of those vibrating beds."

"No, I don't think it will be," Jane said.  Then she remembered her phone was set to vibrate.  Ignoring the hick's attempts to neck with her, she pulled the phone from her pocket.  It was a text message from Mike.  "Your ex just messaged me.  Asked what you were up to these days."

"Oh yeah!" Jane yelped.  Jonathan, encouraged by this display of passion, ground against her harder and she rolled her eyes.  Whatever.  This would be done soon enough.  She closed her eyes.

"Jane?" Selma's voice seemed to be coming from the right.  "Jane?  Young lady!"

Jane's eyes popped open.  There was Selma with her beady brown eyes, peering down into the bed of the truck at the two sinners.

"I'm busy, Selma," she hissed.  Jonathan didn't seem to notice, or didn't seem to mind, that they had an on-looker.

"Well you best stop your dirty fornication because your girl Olivia just got into a car with a strange man and drove off to God knows where."

A Bachelorette Party in a Dive Bar

Recap of the latest mishap:  Olivia has found a beautiful wedding dress, Mike has begun filming and Jane - in an effort to regain her ex's affection- has used a public pay phone to threaten him with stalking and murder, all by accident, of course. 

“Time for a bachelorette party,” Jane hooted as the door to the bridal shop closed behind them. Olivia was cradling her sleeping son in her arms. Mike was dragging the camera, exhausted.

Behind them, Selma, the owner of the bridal shop, was closing up for the night. She held the long, beautiful dress that Olivia had chosen in one hand as she locked the shop’s front door with the other.

Much to Jane’s relief, Selma had opted to move the pile of discarded wedding dresses – the ones that were hiding Jane’s puke – tomorrow.

“What do you mean - a bachelorette party?” Olivia said quietly over her son. “Jane honey, it’s hours past Dougie’s bedtime. I feel terrible that he actually fell asleep in the store. In a chair. Where so many other people’s butts have been! Can’t imagine what that did to his spine. I really need to get him home to bed.”

“Mike could do it. Mike could take the kid home, put him to bed. He’s got some kids of his own, so he’s a pro at this. He probably knows lullabyes and shit. Kids are easy, and resilient!”

“Jane, not all kids are easy. Dougie just met me today,” Mike reminded her. “How would you feel if some man you just met was putting you to bed. Wait… that logic doesn’t apply to you.”

“Oh my God, this is ridiculous! I’m trying to be a good maid of honor here. I need you people to work with me. The kid will be fine, let’s just grab some drinks. There’s a bar right over there, for crying out loud.”

For the slightest moment, Olivia paused, deep in thought. Jane saw her opportunity. There was a part of Olivia, Jane knew, that missed the old days of getting so drunk that you left shoes and pieces of clothing in various bar restrooms or at bus stops.

She had a kid now and sure, she loved the kid, Jane guessed. But surely there was a small part of Olivia’s soul that longed to be molested by the eyeballs of construction workers who had been drinking since dinner. And possibly before dinner. Possibly drinking since lunch.

“That’s it – we’re going to that bar right over there. Mike, take Georgie – "

“Dougie,” Mike corrected her.

“Take this little kid here and hit the road. Me and Olivia are going to get this party started. And Selma too.”

Selma looked shocked. “Oh no, darling, I don’t drink.”

“Well, you will tonight,” Jane laughed loudly. “Let’s go."

Olivia hesitantly placed her sleeping son in the car seat and kissed his forehead. “Mike, our home address is in the GPS under ‘home.’ Here are the keys. The house is a ranch – all one level – and his bedroom is the first door on the left. Turn on his baby monitor. Oh and there’s a white noise machine right by his…”

Jane yanked Olivia from behind and dragged her sputtering into the bar.

“I’m just going to hit the road, myself,” Selma called out. But Jane grabbed her by the fanny pack.

“Nope, you’re making this new bride’s dreams come true, sister,” Jane announced. “And you’re buying the first round.”

The bar was a dark, dingy place that smelled of fear, sweat and the broken dreams of men who just wanted girlfriends with big hooters to sleep with, but instead had found psycho-bitches with big asses and had married them. There were about 12 men sitting in chairs near tables or with their bellies up to the bar. There were two or three busted women meandering around or hanging off the guys like wet towels. But as Jane scanned the room, she could see there was no female competition.

“Yoohoo! Bartender! Three tequila shots!” Jane yelled out.

“I have diabetes,” Selma whispered loudly.

“Well tonight, you can pretend that you don’t have diabetes,” Jane shrugged.

“You can’t pretend diabetes away.”

“Ok, let’s talk about something fun instead of being such a Debbie Downer,” Jane snapped. “So I see they have darts. Let’s do shots and play darts. Oh! Keno!”

“I don’t think drinking and playing darts is such a good idea,” Selma said quietly.

“Here are the shots,” Jane said, ignoring her. “And here’s the bill, Selma.”

Jane ushered Olivia away from the bar, leaving the bridal shop owner to study the damp slip of paper.

“So let’s look for guys to hook up with,” she whispered excitedly. “Tonight, I think I’ll look for a tall dude to do. Somebody in a flannel shirt with a big old beard. Haven’t had one of those types in a while. Bottoms up!”

Olivia looked embarrassed but gulped the shot with her friend. Her cheeks turned rosy and she giggled.
“Jane, I can’t do anyone. I’m getting married, you goof. There’s only one guy I want to do and he’s not in this bar. Actually, even if I didn’t have a fiancé I wouldn’t want to do anyone this bar. The air is ripe with herpes!”

Jane took a look at the livestock. At the bar, some men were standing, mouths agape at some sports game playing on the television. There was a short guy who resembled a bowling ball with an unruly reddish beard and a baseball cap. He was probably in his 30’s but could have passed for close-to-death. Another guy looked to be a kid in his 20’s with a nice meth face going on and missing teeth that added to the sexiness. An old guy was unconscious, his head down on one arm, a gray rat’s tail peeking out. The pickings were slim, very slim.

Then Jane saw him- a tall, lanky, black haired guy standing up against the wall. His jeans hung low, he wore a graphic tee and looked scruffy, or possibly just dirty, around the jaw line. His wet, brown eyes, framed with thick eyelashes, locked on Jane’s and instantly she knew she’d found restroom romp number one for the night.

“I just found my part-time lover, thank you Lionel Richie,” Jane whispered to Olivia. “Now I’m going to go reign in a friend of his and the four of us will party. I’ve got pharmaceutical drugs.”

“What about Selma?” Olivia asked, wide-eyed.

“She can find her own drugs. She’s diabetic or something.”

'Cuse me please, one more violent crime

Recap of the latest mishap:  With the insane deadline pressing down on them, Mike, Olivia and Jane head right from the airport to a nearby wedding boutique to begin filming.  Before heading into the store, Jane stops at a liquor store and proceeds to get smashed, just in time to try on some dresses.

“I would be an amazing pimp.  Or madam.  I guess I’d be a madam, because I’m a girl,” Jane said to the camera. 

“I’d be great,” she continued, taking a sip from her bottle of scotch and then shoving it back into her purse.  “I’m organized. Very efficient.  I know how to keep a schedule.  Are you filming all of this?”

Mike giggled behind the lens.  Selma and Olivia were in a dressing room, struggling with yards of tulle and white lace, Dougie had curled up in a large armchair in the waiting area and had fallen asleep and Jane was in rare drunken form.

She had run around, picking bridesmaids dresses off the rack and trying them on in the middle of the aisle, stripping down to her bra and panties and throwing the dresses on as if they were sacks.  Mike was certain he had heard fabric ripping as she tore them on and off and he prayed that Selma, the shop owner, was hard of hearing.  They didn’t have the budget to pay for piles of ripped garments.

Jane had pounced on Olivia, demanding she make a choice about her “colors.”  Olivia had shrugged, saying that she didn’t really know or care.  Jane got agitated and stalked away, looking for light purple and baby blue.  “The blue will bring out my eyes!” she had called over her shoulder. “My eyes will really pop in the pictures!”

Now Jane sat next to Mike, dressed in a shimmery blue mermaid dress with a lopsided blue flower in her hair that she had snatched from the accessory rack for the “full effect,” and was talking about her underground sex empire.

“You can keep talking.  I'm just shooting B roll, babe,” Mike said.  “Enough about prostitution though.  We need to keep this at least PG-13.  So tell us how you feel about being here with your best friend – are you happy for Olivia?  What’s going through your mind?”

“Oh I’m thrilled!  I’m just so thrilled!” Jane gushed, waving her arms around.  “I’ve done this before – this wedding stuff – so I am a pro.  And I love her so I’m going to make the day all about her! I – hold on a minute…”

Jane went silent and seemed to sway in the folding chair.  Mike kept rolling as she unceremoniously barfed on the floor. Twice.

“That is sexy,” Mike said sarcastically.  “And classy.”

“Oh shit!” Jane said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  “Shit!  We’ve got to cover this up!”  She looked around frantically.  Right in front of the dressing room door, there was a neat stack of dresses that Olivia had already tried on but had not liked.  Jane ran and dragged about three dresses over to the liquidy lumps and plopped them over the pile of sick, then sat down like nothing had happened. 

“Do you have a toothbrush?  Some toothpaste?”  she whispered to Mike.

“You have them in your luggage.  I can’t believe you just did that.  Don’t you think that Selma is going to eventually put those dresses back on the rack?  She’s not just going to leave them in a pile on the floor, you stupid cow,” Mike said.

“Well, we’ll be long gone by the time she does that.”

Mike’s phone alerted him that he had a message.  He paused the camera.  Jane went over to Selma’s desk, urgently looking for a mint candy. 

“Oh hey,” Mike said, staring at his phone.  “James friended me.  On Facebook.”

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Jane said running over.  “Ok, so now you send him a message asking him if he knows my phone number because you’ve lost it.  He’ll start thinking about me, maybe the two of you can message back and forth and BOOM- I’ll have a wedding date.”

Jane took a gulp of scotch and stared off into the distance for a moment.  “Hey – is his phone number listed on his FB page?”

“Um, it is,” Mike said with hesitation.  “But I strongly advise against drunk dialing him.  You’ve just barfed and that dress and flower in your hair only adds to the derangement that is you.  Drunk dialing will not win you this date.”

“I’m not going to drunk dial him!” Jane yelped, “I just want to hear his voice.  I’m going to call him, I’m going to listen to his voice, maybe listen to him breathe for a minute, and then I will hang up.  Give me your phone.”

“You are so creepy.  And I can’t give you my phone because he’ll know who is calling him and he’ll wonder why the hell I first friend him and then immediately call him.”

  That’s not horrible,” Jane said defiantly and held out her hand for the phone.  Mike sighed and gave it to her.

“I’m going to need quarters too.”

“I think I found the dress!” Olivia squealed from inside the dressing room.  “Tell me what you think!”

Olivia came out, blonde hair swept up in her right hand, in a gorgeous white sheath dress that made her look like a Grecian Goddess.  The fabric fell gently in all of the right places and in short, she looked amazing.

In spite of himself, Mike felt a tear form in his eye.  “Oh Liv.  You look stunning.  Let me get some shots.  Whatever you do – don’t look into the lens!”

“What do you think, Jane?” Olivia asked.

But Jane was out the door, still in a dress she didn’t own, stuffing quarters into a pay phone.  James’ phone rang once, rang twice.  On the third ring, Jane’s pickled heart sank as she expected to hear a recording telling her to leave her name and number.  But to her shock, he picked up.

“Hello?” he said.  “This is James.”

Jane’s right hand rose to her neck.  She hadn’t heard that voice in months but it still made her skin prickle with excitement. 

“Hello?  Is someone there?” James asked.

Jane remained silent.

“Hey, if this is a prank or something –“ he said.

“No!” Jane suddenly spoke out, disguising her voice and making it lower.  “This isn’t a prank. Let me talk to James McGowen.  Now!”  Jane had absolutely no idea what the hell she was doing.  She could have been possessed for all she knew.

“This is James.  Who’s this?”

“This.  Is.  Someone you don't know,” Jane stuttered.  “I’m calling from. A place very close to you."

"What?" he asked.

 "I'm.  Stalking.  You."

"What the hell?"  James yelled.  

"That's right," Jane said, searching the depths of her brain for material.  "I'm your stalker.  I'm stalking you and your band.  And I'm gonna...kill... you?"

What the hell am I doing? Jane screamed inside her head.  I just threatened to kill my ex?  How much scotch did I drink and why the fuck's sake am I so morose!

"Look you friggin weirdo, I don't know who you are, but if I catch you around me or my band, I'm going beat your ass in.  Do you understand me?  If you call me again, I'm getting the police involved."

With a violent slam, the line went dead.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jane said, her back against the phone booth.  She looked up at the night sky and reached into her purse.  She pulled out the scotch and took a long swig as she stared at the stars.  This was fine, she told herself.  This was going to be fine. 

She'd figure out how to smooth this stalker issue over, get James to Ohio for the wedding and it would all be beautiful.  Maybe she could save him from this "stalker" of his.  She could be his savior! Jane took another swig.  Yes. Everything would be fine.  She was now a unemployed waitress, a wannabe actress, a bridesmaid for the second time and a criminal.  Mom would be proud.

Mike ran out from the store, lugging his camera, slightly out of breath.  “She’s found the dress!  It looks gorgeous.  Come back into the store.  I need you on camera gushing over it.”  Mike paused and looked at Jane.  “You called him.  Did you say anything?”

“Yes.”

“Something nasty that you will regret?”

“I don’t regret anything.”

"You once got crabs.  Do you regret that?"

"Yes.  But that is all." 

“Did you say something most normal human beings with emotions and hearts would regret?”

“No.  And he’s going to be here for the wedding.”

“Holy crap,” Mike said as they walked.  “You work fast!  So… was it a total mushy romantic reunion?  Had he been missing you too?”

“Yes.  He’s missing me.  Stop talking!  Let’s get filming!” Jane whooped and ran into the store.

"Where Are the Nips?"

Recap of the latest mishap:  After finding Olivia in the airport with her small son, Dougie, Mike and Jane start making their way to the car.  Then Jane’s laxatives kick in.  She cuts several women waiting in line for the restrooms, claiming she is pregnant with two, possibly three, babies.  Alice, a random senior citizen, insists on carrying Jane’s luggage to the car, and assaults Mike with a cane.

“I’m not sitting with the kid in the back.  I hate kids.  No way I’m sitting in the back.  You need to sit in the back.  Kids spit and barf and drool on people and only my boyfriends are allowed to do that shit to me,” Jane whispered to Mike. 

“I’d love to sit in the back with this little dude!” Mike announced, stuffing luggage into the trunk of Olivia’s car.

“Oh that’s so wonderful!” Olivia said as she strapped Dougie securely into the car seat. 

“You ok, little man?” she cooed.  Dougie nodded his head and flashed his mother a toothy, dribbly smile.  Jane watched the drool drip down his chin and onto the front of his shirt.  She cringed.  “I get front!”

Alice, the elderly lady who was carrying Jane’s luggage, made certain that everything was carefully placed into the trunk.

“God bless you and those babies, dear,” Alice said, hugging Jane tight.  “And don’t let that man tell you what to do.  You do what you need to do for those two new lives in there.”

“Possibly three new lives!” Jane chirped.  “Thanks Alice!”  She got into the car.

Driving with Olivia was as dangerous as it had been back in college.  The difference was that at present, Jane was somewhat sober.  Whenever Olivia drove her around in the past, Jane was typically wasted. 

At the height of drunkdom, Olivia’s turns without a directional or hard hits of potholes never bothered Jane.  She would either be sticking her legs out the window of the car or roaring at other cars stopped at stop signs, growling “I’m a dinosaur!  Just like on Jurassic Park!  Gonna eat ya!” 

But now, with most of the day’s alcohol sweated or peed out of her body, Jane found herself in a disturbing reality.

As Jane gripped her knees, the door handle, the dashboard, Mike’s phone rang. 

“Baby, it’s me,” Dottie said.  “Did you get my email yet?”

“No,” Mike said.  “I just got in Olivia’s car.  We’ve been catching up.  Her son, Doug, is looking like a big man these days! What do you got for me, babe?”

“Ok, well, you should read the email, but the first things you should lock down are the dresses – bride, bridesmaids, maid of honor, etc.  And the tuxes for the grooms.  Also, you need to look at venues and get a preacher or someone.  I don’t know what religion Olivia is, so ask.  There are a slew of other things you need to do, but I figured this would be a good start for tonight,” Dottie reported.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Mike asked his wife.

“I haven’t seen you lately, Mister!” she joked.  “But I love you too.  Call before bed!  Let me know how things go.”

Mike hung up.  “Ok, ladies.  We need to go to the closest wedding dress boutique.  We’re gonna start filming tonight.”

“Tonight?”  Olivia asked.  “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.  I mean, I don’t think I’ve mentally prepped myself to be in front of the camera.  And Dougie.  I think this will keep him up kind of late.”

“Hair?  Make-up?”  Jane shouted.  “I don’t have either of them.”

“Everyone is going to be just fine,” Mike reassured them.  “Olivia, I won’t turn the camera on you much so there’s no reason to get upset.  I’ll be doing lots of pans of the dress shop, maybe some interviews with the shop owners.   Certainly some shots of you trying on dresses, but at no point will I need you to look into the lens.  And Dougie looks like he’s full of energy. “

“Hair!   Make-up!” Jane repeated.

“You’re going to have to do them yourself, babe.  We don’t have time to stop at a salon.  Just whip your hair up into a ponytail.  Bring your eyes out and your lips.  You’ll be fine,” Mike said.

Jane started cursing a blue streak under her breath as she reached into her purse and pulled out charcoal gray eyeliner.  She whipped out her compact and started applying just as Olivia smacked into a pot hole, sending the pencil flying across Jane’s temple. 

“Michael!” she shrieked.  “If I stab myself in the eyeball, I am suing you.  I am taking your kids’ college tuition and they will be left with nothing!  No future for your family!”

“Sorry, Jane!” Olivia whimpered apologetically.  “Didn’t see that back there.  The closest dress shop is just a couple of miles up here on our right.  And there’s a liquor store right near by.”

“You know me too well and that is why I love you,” Jane said, rubbing the kohl off her temple and attempting to reapply it to her eye. 

They pulled into Sunshine Acres Mall and found a space.  Jane’s conception of a mall had always included several stores – at least 40.  With a  food court.  And restrooms. 

This “mall” was made up of a bridal store, a liquor store, a pizzeria, a quickie mart and a lawyer’s office.  With the car in park, Jane dove out and raced to the booze store.  Mike and Olivia gathered Dougie and a small video camera and headed into the store.

“I need nips!”  Jane gasped to the 17 year-old behind the counter.  “Where are the nips?”

“From wear I’m looking,” the acne-covered, future inmate said, “They’re right in front of me.”  He looked down at Jane’s boobs.  “I guess the air conditioning is on.”

“You are so very funny.  So very.  Fucking.  Funny,” Jane said, her voice low and even.  “Which is why I won’t kill you right now.  I will allow you to live.  Point me to the small bottles of alcohol and the big bottles of vodka and you will not be harmed.  I am on my period.  If I do kill you, I can and will blame it on a temporary hormonal imbalance and loss of sanity. Chances are, I will get away with it.  Shithead.”

The boy scoffed at Jane, but pointed her to the baskets of nips.  “The vodka is on the back wall.”

Jane ran.  She grabbed five nips, then a bottle of vodka.  She threw her credit card down on the counter at the kid, then started pounding the nips.

“Hey.  Ma’am,” the kid said.  “You need to pay for that before you down it.”

“Then run my fucking credit card.  Dude.”  Jane was on nip number three.  Soon the blanket of wooziness would come. Soon.

With a scratch of a pen as a signature, Jane raced to the bridal shoppe.  Outside, she pounded nip number four.  She was beginning to feel the familiar warmth – a sign she was ready for lights, camera, and action.  She saw Mike following Olivia and a store employee with his camera.  Dougie was running in and out of dress racks. 

“I’m ready!” Jane announced, whipping out nip number five.  “I’m ready!”  She looked at the employee.  “Who are you? Mike, is she getting camera time?” 

Mike rushed right over to ameliorate the situation.  “Jane, this is Selma.  This is Selma’s shop, Jane, and she’s being very, very nice by allowing us to tape in the store.  I was just telling Selma how grateful we are.  We’re very grateful, right Jane?”

Jane glanced over at Selma, a short, apple-shaped woman with blonde, permed hair framing her round face.  She couldn’t be more than 5’1”, Jane thought.  And those boobs – old and sturdy like a shelf.  She could balance dinner plates on those Old Faithfuls. 

“Thank you, Selma,” Jane said mechanically and mindlessly, like a school girl being ordered to thank a librarian.   The fuzziness of the alcohol was kicking in and Selma seemed tolerable.  Even her flowered, short sleeve blouse and gross khaki capris seemed tolerable.

“You’re welcome, darlin’,” Selma answered with a thick Southern drawl.  “Just wanna find something nice for this cute little gal to wear on the most important day of her life.”

“Actually, it’s not the most important day of her life,” Jane interrupted, pawing at some nearby dresses.  “She’s been married before.  So, maybe it’s the most of important day of her life, take two.”

“What do you suggest for Olivia’s body type, Selma?” Mike asked, directing attention away from Jane. 

“She’s a slim, pretty gal.  Seems to be to be traditional.  Although now that I know this is your second marriage….”

“I’m very traditional,” Olivia said, her cheeks turning bright pink.  “The first marriage just wasn’t healthy.  For me or my child.”

Selma nodded, knowingly.  She then turned to look into the camera.  “I had a friend whose husband used to beat her.  And luckily she escaped too.  I’m completely against domestic violence and you should be too.” 

“No!” Olivia yelped.  “He didn’t beat me, my husband didn’t beat me.  We just had different priorities and lifestyles.”

“Whatever it takes to help you sleep through the night, darling.  But I know you’re a survivor, girl,” Selma whispered, touching Olivia’s arm.

Olivia turned to Mike.  “Did you just tape that?  Did you tape that part about my ex beating me?  Because he didn’t. “

“I’ll take it out in editing,” he assured her.

Jane, now armed with about ten dresses, pounced on them.  She dumped all of the dresses on Selma, virtually burying the woman in lace and plastic. 

“Let’s try on some dresses!”  she yelled into the camera.  “Woooooohoooo!  Yeah, bitches!”  With that, she produced devil horns at the lens and then ran off to another aisle.

Airports and Dependable Overnight Relief

Recap of the latest mishap:  Jane and Mike are on the flight to Ohio, getting ready to meet Olivia at the airport.  Mike is dealing with a troll of a passenger and desperately trying to figure out how the hell he's going to pull the reality television show together.  Jane's just full of valium.  


Mike unbuckled his seat belt once the lit sign went dark and nudged Jane with his elbow.

“Boozing Beauty, we’re here.  We’re in Ohio,” he said, stretching his back as much as he could in the close quarters. 

To his left, was the Muppet, who had randomly passed out in the middle of knitting whatever she was knitting.  Her head was tilted back on a cushion of hair that looked like a bird’s nest made of wires and straw and her mouth hung open in a disapproving “o” shape.  It wasn’t hard to see that the Muppet shunned modern dentistry – three teeth had been lost somewhere in her life’s journey and the others were looking like the Indian corn Mike’s wife hung on the front door for Thanksgiving.

Mike smiled to himself as he realized he could nudge the Muppet and it wouldn’t be able to complain.  After all, he was doing it a service.  The plane had landed and it was important that everyone begin to unload.  With the sharpest elbow shape he could make, he pounded into her cake-like flesh. 

She croaked, or burped, then coughed as she came around, and started collecting her knitting supplies and stuffing them in a bag.  Jane was coming into the land of consciousness as well.

“That wasn’t a bad flight,” Jane offered, stretching.  “I actually feel pretty good.  That nap was what I needed.”  She looked at Mike.  “You, on the other hand, look like shit.  Didn’t you sleep?”

Mike shook his head and waited for the Muppet to waddle out of his way before he reached up to get the carry-on luggage. 

“We’re going to need to start filming, like right away,” he said.  He had spent most of the flight attempting to schedule out various shots but until he could read the email his wife was sending him about wedding preparation or in the very least talk to Olivia to see what she was planning to do, scheduling was a waste of time.

“That’s fine,” Jane shrugged as they walked out of the plane together.  “It’s still kind of early -we could probably even shoot some of the store scenes tonight.”

“At the very least, I can shoot Olivia at home, talking about how challenging all of this preparation is going to be, how she met her husband, why they need to married so quickly.  I can shoot the house, her kid… lots of good B roll if we can’t get into the stores.”

“Well hold your horses there, friend,” Jane said.  “I just need to get into hair and make-up and then you should start interviewing me.  Let’s not forget whose show this really is.  Ask me questions about maid of honor stuff – toasts, and being supportive and all that shit.  Oh!  Ask me about the bachelorette party.  That’s good!”

“Is she even going to have a bachelorette party?” Mike asked.  He scanned the crowded airport for Olivia’s familiar blond bob haircut.  “You have such a short window of time.  And on top of that, it’s not like Olivia’s young and crazy anymore.  She’s already been married once, she’s got a kid.  She might not be up for boozing.”

“Everyone is always up for boozing,” Jane dismissed him.  “So is hair and make-up coming to Olivia’s house?  What’s the deal?”

“We don’t have hair and make-up, Jane.  On such short notice, we’re lucky we have all the components of a basic crew. You’re on your own for hair and make-up.”

Jane squawked and smacked Mike’s arm.  “I cannot do my own make-up.  That’s ridiculous.”

“Shut up.  Act normal, Queen of Ugly.  There’s Olivia,” Mike said.

The cute, petite blond had spotted them from afar and was making her way towards them with her three year-old son on her hip.  Dressed in a peach top, jeans and high heels, she looked like the perfect homeroom yummy mommy.

“Hi you two!” she cried, reaching out her one free arm for hugs.  They all embraced and Olivia stood back to introduce the kid.

“Jane, Mike, this is Dougie.  You guys haven’t seen him for a long time.  Not since he was brand new,” Olivia said.  Dougie took one look at the two flight-weary travelers and hid in his mom’s shoulder.  

“Still a little shy,” Olivia mouthed.  “Well come on, let’s get your luggage and get you to the car.  You haven’t started filming me, right Mike?

“No darling,” Mike assured her.  “I’ll always let you know.”

Jane was pulling up the rear as their party walked towards to the luggage conveyor belt when she felt a sudden twist in her gut.  She kept walking, but soon there was another stab of insistence and Jane began to vaguely remember taking laxatives earlier in the day. 

“Oh dear God,” she mumbled to herself.  “Hey guys, I’m just going to visit the ladies’ room real quick.  Be right there.”

Jane casually walked towards the restroom.  Once in, she was all business.  There was a line of four women, all waiting to use the facilities.  One stall opened up just as Jane entered.  She dove for it and was about to slam the door to the stall behind her when two tan hands grabbed it open.  A tall, fit woman who might have been a fitness model glared at her.

“There’s a line, in case you missed it,” she told Jane, her brown eyes narrowing.

“I know, I just… I just have to go really badly,” Jane pleaded.  Her stomach was now going crazy with cramps and gurgles. “I just…need to go.  Like emergency go.”

“We all need to use the bathroom room, lady,” the woman said.  “But we’re all waiting our turn.  And so should you.”

Jane thought fast and produced a quick and dirty lie.  “Look, I’m sorry.  I’m pregnant.  With twins.  Maybe even triplets. There could be another person floating around in there, somewhere.  Behind my liver or something.  Super high risk pregnancy.  I just need to take care of myself.”

The woman’s face softened for just a moment and Jane seized the opportunity to slam the door shut and whip down her pants. 

Once she finished, Jane quietly exited the restrooms, hoping no one would notice her.  Mike and Olivia stood outside.  Dougie was playing at Olivia’s ankles.  

“Ready to go,” Jane announced and even grabbed a carry-on to show her team spirit.  Olivia grabbed Dougie up and once again they were headed for the car when an ancient-looking woman with blue hair made her way over to Jane and made scolding noises.

“Shouldn’t be carrying anything so heavy,” she said to Jane, wagging a gnarled finger at her.  “You’ve got to take care of those babies in your belly.  Here, let Alice help you.”

Alice, who was using a cane and was most likely Methuzalah’s older sister, grabbed the carry-on from Jane and began carrying it for her.  “So how far along are you?  You’re pretty skinny.  Those babies must be teeny-tiny.  What have you been eating?”

This woman must have been in the restroom, Jane thought.  Olivia and Mike stopped their conversation and looked at Alice, who was struggling beneath the heavy piece of luggage, and then to Jane. 

“I’m about 13 weeks along?” Jane answered.  “I come from a long line of really skinny people.  And we have really skinny babies.  That’s just how it is.”

“You’re pregnant, Jane?” Olivia demanded.

“Sort of,” Jane said.  “Why don’t you ask Mike about it.  I’m sure Mike will be able to talk about my pregnancy.”

“Is he the father?” Alice asked.

Mike rolled his eyes and shook his head, then turned around and continued walking.  Olivia joined him.

“Um.  Yes,” Jane said.  A few more white lies couldn’t hurt.  This woman was so old, she’d probably forget anything Jane said within a half hour anyway.

Alice quickened her pace until she was closer to Mike.  With a swift swish of her cane, she knocked him upside his head.  He hollered and dropped the luggage he was carrying and held his head in pain.

“What the hell?” he demanded.  “What was that for, dammit?”

“That was for not helping your wife when she needs you the most, you dimwit,” Alice growled.  

“We’re not married!” Mike yelled, picking up the luggage.  Alice looked confused.  Jane’s stomach lurched and she raced back to the public restroom.  

“Carrying twins is hard on the body,” Alice said aloud to no one in particular.  “No wonder that poor girl is so skinny.  The morning sickness must be horrible when you carry twins.  Stella Murphy, from Hillsview Street – she didn’t even KNOW she was carrying twins until the day they were born.  They just both popped right out, lickity split.  At least that girl knows what she’s getting into.”

There was a moment of silence as Alice drifted off somewhere.  

Olivia turned to Mike.  “So, Jane’s pregnant?  I think she should cut back on the drinking…”