Run Away Baby

“Are you and R going to the Phelps’ party next weekend?” asked Danna-Dee.

Abby was sitting beside her on the Lorbmeers’ boat The Sea Lassie. Clark and Randall were upfront, talking about some private matter they felt women wouldn’t understand. Danna-Dee was drinking her signature Pinot Noir, her teeth and lips stained purple. Abby had no idea why she called Randall ‘R’ when nobody else did. When she said it, Abby felt like she was listening to a pirate talking.

“Yeah, we’re planning to go.”

“Us too. Have you been to their house yet?”

“Once last summer. It’s nice. Very modern and minimalistic.”

“Oh really? I’d picture Kathy Phelps having more cottagey taste,” Danna-Dee said, wrinkling her nose.

“No, it’s pretty cool. Almost cold.”

“Ohhh! Cold.” She nodded, glad that Abby could assist her in some smacktalk. “And what are you thinking you’re going to wear?”

“I’m not sure yet,” said Abby. Danna-Dee was almost fifty. Abby didn’t appreciate being her fashion advisor.

“Oh.” Danna-Dee frowned. “Not even an idea yet?”

“I don’t know. Maybe my navy jumpsuit.”

“A jumpsuit? My Lord! Are they back? I don’t know if I could do a jumpsuit. I wore jumpsuits the first time they were in style, and they say that you can only follow a trend once.”

“I might wear a dress. I don’t know.”

“What kind of dress?”

“I don’t know. It’s really up to Randall,” said Abby.

“Oh yes, he’s got his opinions, doesn’t he,” nodded Danna-Dee. She smiled and took another sip of her wine.

“What do you think you’re going to wear?” Abby asked, even though she didn’t care.

“I have no idea. I’m going to have to go shopping sometime this week. I guess everyone who’s anyone is going to be there. T

he Reeds, the Fenskes, the Moffetts. Everyone.”

“Wow,” Abby said, not even bothering to add emotion.

Randall and Clark came back and sat down beside them. Randall rested his big, meaty hand on Abby’s thigh and tickled her beneath her shorts hem. She brushed his hand away.

“How ya doin’ Sugartitties,” he whispered in her ear, loud enough so Clark and Danna-Dee could hear him.

“I’m okay,” she whispered without meeting his eyes.

Clark and Danna-Dee smiled.

“You ladies going to do some fishing with us old men?” asked Clark. Even though they were just six years apart, he liked to pretend that Danna-Dee was much younger than him. He seemed to think it was worth seeming older if he could portray himself as someone who’d also snagged a young trophy wife.

“No way!” said Danna-Dee. “I just got my nails done and I don’t want to ruin them!” She held them out to Abby and the men, wiggly them like purple tipped palm fronds. “What do you think?”

“Sexy,” said Randall.

“Don’t you be coming on to my wife,” Clark joked.

“Abby, what do you think?” asked Danna-Dee.

“They’re pretty.”