Frenemies

“Where the hell did you get that flamingo?” I asked, staring at it. It was at least eight inches tall and… were those LED lights? Did it light up?

“I found it in my pocketbook!”

“Your purse, Grandma.”

“No, my pocketbook.” She pointed to her purse.

“That’s a purse. It’s not a book that fits in your pocket. It’s a purse.”

“Oooh,” Grandma said, pursing her lips. “Is someone due on her period, or is she a little nervous about a certain gentleman joining us this evening?”

I glared at her. Thankfully, Mason chose that moment to knock at the door so I didn’t have to justify that stupid question with an answer at all.

All three ladies’ heads turned, and smiles that would look innocent to anyone except me spread across their faces. They greeted him with all the hustle and bustle that only a group full of grandmas could.

“Here, take a seat!” Kathleen guided him over to the chair I’d set up the knitting needle in. You couldn’t see it, but Hannah had taken the needle to the ass earlier when she’d stopped by with something for Grandma, so I knew it worked.

“Thanks.” He sank back into the seat with everyone watching him. He opened his mouth to say something, but a hissed curse escaped his lips instead.

I grinned.

“What the hell did you do?” he asked me, jumping up.

“Who said it was me?” I shot back.

“It’s always you!”

“I take offense at that.”

“Oh, Immy, we all know you stuck a knitting needle there,” Grandma said, cutting in. “Stop bickering like children. We all know it’s because you have a crush on each other.”

“Grandma!” I said at the same time Lil shouted, “Jennifer!”

“What?” Grandma asked, looking around the room. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“Ooh, goodie!” Evelyn clapped her hands. “We’re getting started on the gossip portion of the evening early.”

Kathleen plucked the knitting needle from the chair. “Ah-ha! Got it. Sit down, dear. That’s the only one there was.” She pushed Mason back into the chair so he was sitting there. “Have a wriggle, just in case.”

Mason dutifully wriggled.

“Anything in your ass? Nothing poking up it or anything?”

I bit down hard on my lower lip so I didn’t burst into laughter. Her words had gone right over everyone’s head except mine and apparently Mason’s because he was doing his best not to explode with laughter himself.

“No, ma’am,” he choked out after a minute.

“Lil! He’s choking! Get him a whiskey!” Evelyn called.

Lil snorted. “No. He’s trying not to laugh about something being in his ass.”

Kathleen looked around at all of us before she looked back at Mason. “Is there something in your ass?”

“Oh, Jesus, Kathleen, sit down!” Grandma snapped. “Cut the cake, and we’ll all get to know each other.”

“It’s not Alcoholics Anonymous, Grandma. Just everyone’s names for Mason’s benefit will do.” I cradled my glass of wine against me.

“No, we’re doing full introductions. We’ve been practicing for this very moment. Everyone sit down with a drink!” She waved her hands, and all the old ladies snapped into action.

Evelyn poured Mason a Jack Daniels and forced it into his hands, Kathleen slices the cake into eight pieces, Grandma fussed at everyone because her cushion was missing, and Lil… Well, Lil sat down with her glass of wine and watched them all go insane.

I looked into my own glass. There was not going to be enough wine in this thing.

“Right! I hereby call this meeting of the book club to order.” Grandma banged her mini gavel on the arm of her chair.

I really had no idea where she got that thing from.

“Today, we have a new member. Mason from next door,” she went on. “Oh, wait, what’s the date?”

“Nobody is taking notes, Jennifer, get on with it!” Lil sniped. “I want to talk about Mr. Wesley’s nipple clamps!”

Mason’s eyes widened, and I grinned like the Cheshire cat rolling around on his branch. He’d just learned exactly what these crazy old women liked to read.

Dirty BDSM erotica.

He met my gaze and mouthed, “What the fuck?”

I kept grinning.

“All right, all right,” Evelyn said, stepping in. “My name is Evelyn Elmhurst. I’m eighty-one years old, I like gardening in my greenhouse, I absolutely hate cats, and I’m here because I like to read about kinky things I should have done fifty years ago.”

Well.

There we go, then.

That was how you introduced yourself to the group.

“I’ll go next!” Kathleen sat up straight. “My name is Kathleen Springs, and I’m seventy-nine years old. I like knitting, crochet, and I can roast a mean chicken. I like sending Evelyn photos of cats and watching alien documentaries on the History channel.”

Crochet and aliens? You learned something new every day.

“Right.” Grandma straightened in her seat. “My name is Jennifer, I’m eighty years old, and I let my granddaughter live in my house.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m excellent at baking, watching Netflix, and complaining about absolutely everything.”