Lala Pettibone's Act Two by Heidi Mastrogiovanni

Author:Heidi Mastrogiovanni [Heidi Mastrogiovanni]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781944995089
Publisher: Amberjack Publishing
Published: 2017-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

A Silver Lining

Before she went anywhere near the fourplex, before she showed up at Geraldine’s door to collect her dogs from their spontaneous slumber party with their great-auntie, Lala pulled Geraldine’s car into the driveway of Monty’s home.

Monty opened the door and when he saw that it was Lala standing there, he moved toward her with welcoming arms outstretched. Lala brushed past him into the house. Her self-righteous forward momentum was immediately halted by Benedict, who sailed through the air and tackled her to the ground with his Great Dane adoration.

“Ufff,” Lala grunted.

“Benedict!” Monty barked. “Bad boy!”

Lala spoke and giggled between the slurpy Benedict kisses that covered her face.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I love it,” she said. “Now, Monty, listen, I came right over here as soon as I got back to town.”

Lala grabbed Benedict around his waist and rolled the massive beast over with her as she turned on her side. Benedict cheerfully complied. It seemed he thought they were now wrestling and wouldn’t that be wonderfully fun? In an instant, he was on his back, and Lala was rubbing his tummy, and she managed to get up on her feet without Benedict tackling her again.

Monty eased into his recliner and Benedict jumped up on the couch.

“Come sit next to us, dear girl,” Monty said. “I can’t stay on my feet too long.”

“Of course not,” Lala said. “How’s your leg?”

“Much better. Not quite there yet, but almost.”

Lala sat on the couch to Benedict’s right so she could also be next to Monty’s chair. Monty took Lala’s hand and kissed it.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Geraldine said you had a rough night. I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking. Please don’t worry about me. Now, Monty, listen, forgive me for being brusque, but you better not be dicking around with my aunt. I swear to God, if you are not taking her seriously, if she is just some kind of sunset-years sex toy for you, if you hurt her feelings in any way, and let me repeat that, in any way at all, I will break your other leg. I won’t do it myself. But I bet I could find someone who would do it for me. If I pay them. Which I will. Happily.”

Monty nodded his head as he listened to Lala. When she stopped speaking, he gave it a few seconds to make sure she was done before he said anything.

“My daughter has many good qualities. But sometimes she can be self-absorbed. And sometimes that leads her to lack grace.”

Great, Lala thought. Like I can continue to harbor a grudge against her for that. Pot? I’m kettle, and I guess I’ll have to stop calling you black right about now.

“What did she say last night?” Monty asked.

“It was her friend. An author. An unctuous author. He apparently had heard about Salman Rushdie. He spoke very derisively about my aunt. I wanted to clean his clock.”

“I wish you had,” Monty said.

“Yes, in retrospect I’m sorry I didn’t.

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