"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.