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It was her turn to eye me. “His uncle takes pictures when they get together in Florida. I have to admit, he's a fine looking man,” she added wistfully.
I wasn't sure if she was referring to Jack or his uncle. With Goldie, it could be either. Married for over forty years, I wasn't worried about her two-timing her husband, Paul. They were the most devoted couple I'd ever met. But she was certainly one to ogle. A lot.
I'd be blind, or a lesbian, if I didn't think Jack was a good looking man like Goldie said. Visions of Jack's butt in body contouring jeans as he'd climbed out of the van came to mind, but I shook my head to clear those very appealing thoughts. His backside might be extremely fine, but his being a total jerk ruined it.
“I just came to pick up a replacement for this.” I pointed to the Triple Smacker. “Mike's party is tonight and I figured this would be a hit.” I shook my head and laughed half-heartedly. “No pun intended. God, that was really bad.”
“Mmm, knowing Mike, I think you're right,” she said, clacking her French manicured fingernails on the glass countertop.
Goldie knew things about people no one else did. Like what kind of sex toys they preferred, what adult movies they rented, unusual sexual proclivities. She had a client/adult store owner confidentiality arrangement. I didn't ask her what she meant in her statement about Mike because really, I didn't want to know. Sometimes it was better not to know everything about your friends and neighbors, especially in a small town.
Mike Ostranski had been a friend of mine since middle school when we both got food poisoning after eating the potato salad he'd brought to the end-of-school party at the Bozeman Ponds. It had sat out in the sun for hours. We both threw up on the bus ride home, but I’d had the bad luck of hitting the science teacher, Mr. Kramer, sitting innocently in the row in front of us, on the back of the neck. We've been friends ever since. Mike and I, not Mr. Kramer.
It was the guys' monthly poker night, but Mike had decided on something different for his turn to host. He’d probably lost too much money the last time and wanted to avoid that shame a second month in a row. Goldilocks offered in-house sex toy parties, kind of like a Tupperware party but with more interesting offerings, but so far we'd only hosted them for ladies. This would be the first male version and since I was his old friend, Mike had specifically asked me to host. It was his house, his beer and his friends, but I would bring the toys, the favors and the inside scoop on what a woman wanted.
I found a different paddle in the BDSM section, this one lined with faux fur on one side, leather on the other. “This should do it.” I placed it on the counter next to the broken one.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Goldie returned to her video sorting. “Some woman stopped by today looking for you. Never seen her before.”
I looked down through the glass into the case at the new dildos Goldie must have received earlier in the day. They were clear glass with various colors swirled through. Very artistic. “Huh. Did she give her name or say what she wanted?”
Goldie shook her head. “Nope. She didn't linger either. Petite, forties, blonde. Honker of a diamond ring on one hand, the other wrapped in a bandage or cast or something. A little odd, that one.”
The description didn't ring a bell. Most people were odd in their own special way, so that didn’t narrow it down. I shrugged my shoulders and put my warm gloves back on. “Let me know if she comes back.”
Goldie turned around and started adding the new DVD's to the rental wall in the A's. Needless to say, there were quite a few choices with the word Ass in the title. “What about Jack? Are you going to the ER to pick him up?”
“He said he didn't need a ride.” I snorted. The man could walk back and turn into a popsicle for all I cared. “Goldie, he didn't even know who I was.”
Goldie gazed at me over her shoulder, her forehead scrunched up. “What do you mean? He thinks you're Violet?”
I looked at the floor and toed the hideous gold and black carpet with my winter boot. “He can't tell us apart. He never could.” I whispered the last.
“So, regardless of whether you're Violet or Veronica, he thinks he's staying in your house.” She took her glasses off and let them dangle around her neck by the blingiest chain ever made. “You didn't tell him you're homeless, too?”
The house with the crappy hot water heater was my sister Violet's, not mine. My fixer-upper had had a little fire in thekitchen and was being repaired by a restoration company. Faulty electrical, the insurance company had said. Not surprising, since my old house still had knob and tube wiring from the Wild West era in places. While Violet was out of town on an elementary education conference—she was a first-grade teacher—I was able to stay at her place.
I rolled my eyes. “There wasn't much time between whacking him on the head and the trip to the ER. He was being a total jerk to me and wouldn't have listened anyway. You can't blame the guy. Would you listen to someone who'd done that to you?”
Goldie turned to face me, debated for a moment. “Probably not.”
“Exactly. Now I'm stuck with him. His uncle put him in Violet's house.” I pointed at Goldie and gave her the evil eye. “You didn't put him up to this, did you?”
Goldie looked shocked. “Me?”
“Yes, you. I wouldn't put this past you and your meddling ways.”
Now it was Goldie's turn to give the evil eye. “Young lady, I do not meddle.”
This was a pointless argument. Goldie was Queen Meddler, but I would never be able to get her to admit it.
“I had nothing to do with Jack staying at Violet's house.” Goldie returned to shelving. “Although I have to admit, it's pretty darn good. I can think of someone—besides me—who could pull this off.”
Of course! I should've started with the most obvious candidate. My mother. Getting her two daughters married had become her post-retirement life's mission.
“Right, sorry,” I told Goldie. “I'm sure it was Mom, but I'm not going to call her for confirmation. I don't want to hear about her 'love plans'.”
Goldie chuckled and looked at me over her shoulder again, her eyebrow arched. “Love plans?”
