Divorced, Desperate, and Delicious

Chapter 19

Kathy laughed.

Sue shook her head. “What’s the Dirty Chicken? Is it that one where they . . .” She started flapping her arms. “Quack. Quack.”

Kathy laughed harder and stared at Lacy. “Okay. You win this week’s horniest award. I mean, after that story . . .”

“I don’t want to win.” Lacy blew her nose again. “I won last week.”

Kathy shook her head and poured herself a whiskey. “Look. It’s time we stop being angry, bitter divorcées and move on with our lives. It’s not healthy. We need to let go of the hurt and become normal divorced sluts like the rest of the population. We’ve got to learn to use men like they use us.”

“Didn’t you listen to what I said?” Lacy asked. “I can’t use them without dragging them to see a justice of the peace.”

“Well, you just have to go after the guys who would never agree to marriage.” Kathy’s eyes sparkled. “The bad boys, the kind who would run from commitment like my plumber, Mr. Stan Bradley. Which is a great idea.” She pointed to Lacy. “You sleep with him and I’ll get my toilet fixed for free.”

Lacy wiped her nose again. If she was going to take a chance on a bad boy, she already had one. “What if I try to change his mind? I mean my mother managed it five times.”

“But you’re not your mother,” Sue said, and poured herself a drink. “None of us are our mothers. Why, look at my mom. She’s a hypochondriac. She lives for her doctors’ appointments. Just the . . .”

Lacy and Kathy’s eyes met as Sue continued to chatter, and both of them had to fight hard not to laugh, because Sue was more like her mother than—The truth of it hit Lacy. What was it Chase had said? The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. Oh, Lordie! Was she really destined to be like her mom and grandma?

“I propose a toast,” Kathy said and raised her glass. “To us. Not being our moms and forever being friends.”

Three glasses met in the air, clinked, and then they all swallowed the burning whiskey in quick gulps. Next came serious coughing, followed by some serious laughter. Kathy put on a Sting CD, Songs of Love, and in a few minutes Lacy’s desire to sob had lessened. Sting obviously knew how to take the sting out of heartbreak.

Pulling the food from the oven, they ate warm flour tortillas, chicken fajitas with guacamole and pico de gallo.

“Okay,” Kathy said, picking up a tortilla. ‘‘Now for the discussion.” Her eyes twinkled with a devilish glint. “Is it length or girth?” She rolled the tortilla long then folded it. “What’s your take, Lacy?”

“Please,” Lacy said. “Can’t we table this topic?”

The topic got pushed back to talk about Sue’s new sandals, which had only set her back forty bucks. They were still picking at the food when a knock at the door interrupted. Kathy got up to answer it. Lacy and Sue listened as a male voice came from the door. For a crazy second, Lacy’s stomach knotted and she thought it could be Zeke. Her gaze zipped to Kathy: at least this time, she could do all the endless chatter.

“Sure.” Kathy spoke to the visitor behind the door and stepped back.

Lacy’s stomach clutched, but then a dark-haired man, early thirties, wearing jeans and light blue T-shirt, walked into the room. Definitely not Zeke.

The visitor grinned at Lacy and Sue, and his blue eyes crinkled with smile lines. “Ladies,” he said.

“Didn’t mean to intrude on girls’ night.” He walked past them and headed to the back of the trailer. Both Lacy and Sue watched him walk right into Kathy’s bedroom.