The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

Laney: Because it’s not a good time.

Theo: You just said you weren’t busy.

I roll up the gravel drive to see Ole Faithful, Deidra’s suburban, Devin’s Chevy, and a familiar car that has me slamming on my brakes.

Panic consumes me as I grapple for the handle staring at the front door of the house, expecting an explosion at any moment. I’m already running up the porch steps as Laney walks out closing the door behind her in full old lady garb, including her Madea wig.

“Houseman,” she tries to scorn with a guilty shake in her voice. “I told you now is not a good time.”

“What is Courtney’s car doing here?”

Her eyes dart left and right. “Don’t get mad. They just wanted to come for a visit.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s long overdue,” she defends, her voice still unsteady. “You know. You can’t keep me from them forever.”

“Okay, fine. Do you want to tell me what you’re doing dressed like that?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She bites her lip pensively, and from inside the house, I hear a shriek.

“Oh Noooo! Nobody move! My contact!”

Laney winces.

“Was that Brenna?”

“Uh huh?”

“What wouldn’t I understand?”

“Just, come back in a few hours, okay?” She drops her voice low. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Yeah, not going to work. Get out of my way.”

“Houseman, turn around and go back the way you came and no one gets hurt.” She thrusts a finger above my shoulder just as Courtney spouts off.

“This is football. All the people wanna hear about are touchdowns and injuries. They don’t give a damn ‘bout that grape shit!”

“Theo, trust me,” she says as I gently push her to the side and step…into an alternate universe.

All three of my sisters sit on Laney’s couch, wearing different wigs dressed like they’re ready for an ice cream social. Deidra is no less guilty in the rocker, fully decked out twenty years north of her age and her dress looks like it’s made mostly of yarn. All of them look up at me collectively with overdone blue-haired makeup on, margaritas in one hand and scorecards laying in their laps.

“Boy sperm,” Courtney greets me with a slight slur as I trail my eyes down to Max who has the decency to look mortified in a bonnet.

I turn to Laney, utterly confused. “Live Old Maid?”

“It’s Gran’s birthday and the thirtieth anniversary of Steel Magnolias,” Devin supplies, grabbing my hand to usher me into the house. “We decided to celebrate in a way that would make her proud. I’m Shelby, Brenna is Annelle, Courtney is wicked Ouiser, Deidra is M’Lynn, and Jamie is Clairee.”

“That explains everything,” I’m unable to hide the terror in my voice. “And who are you?” I notice the enhancement to Laney’s chest.

“Truvy,” she says, blowing out a breath, “played by Dolly Parton. I was going to tell you. But—”

“That’s our fault,” Jamie explains. “Because you would have never let it happen.”

“Yes, well, I was worried it would be awkward. Imagine that?”

“Shut up, Theo. You’re ruining our game,” Courtney says, tipping back more margarita.