The Mary-Alice Files Books 1-4 by Frankie Bow

Author:Frankie Bow
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781386986485
Publisher: Hawaiian Heritage Press

Chapter 6

Mary-Alice felt her heart pounding as she guided her beloved Oldsmobile 88 along the narrow dirt-and-crushed-shell road. She was nervous about the prospect of walking into one of the roughest bars in the bayous. But Mary-Alice's main worry was her car. Gertie's Cadillac wasn't reliable enough to make a quick getaway, so Mary-Alice had volunteered to drive. But as the road narrowed, the bristling blackberry thickets on either side menaced her metallic paint.

To make matters worse, Mary-Alice felt she could barely breathe, thanks to the black vinyl corset that Gertie had laced her into before they left.

“You can’t walk into the Swamp Bar looking like you just came from a ladies’ prayer breakfast,” Gertie had explained. “You have to blend in.”

In addition to the corset, Mary-Alice sported fingerless lace gloves, leopard-print leggings, and a spiky platinum wig complete with black roots. At least Mary-Alice’s feet were too small for Gertie's shoes. She was able to wear her own comfortable tennis shoes, thank goodness.

Gertie had gone in for Harajuku style. Beneath a frilly pink-and-white mini-dress, white lace thigh-highs gripped Gertie’s bony legs. Tarantula eyelashes and thick liner ringed her eyes. A huge white satin bow teetered atop Gertie’s candy-pink wig.

Mary-Alice, who was unfamiliar with Japanese fashion, assumed Gertie was dressed as Bette Davis in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

Just as Mary-Alice was wondering whether she had gotten them hopelessly lost in the black woods, Gertie cried, “There it is!” Mary-Alice glimpsed light through the trees. The narrow road opened up to a crushed-shell parking lot. Gertie climbed out and led the way into the building, crunching across the cracked white oyster shells in her pink high-heeled boots.

“Gertie,” Mary-Alice asked, “are you okay? Those heels seem awfully high.”

Gertie was taking tiny, mincing steps, her knees bent and her arms held out for balance.

There’s no beauty without pain,” Gertie said.

“Wherever did you hear that, Gertie?”

“At a toddler pageant. One of the mothers said it.”

At least Mary-Alice's feet were comfortable in her sequined tennis shoes. The rest of her, not so much. The platinum wig made her scalp itch, and the hooks of her mobile-sized earrings tugged on her earlobes like a cheese-cutter.

The Swamp Bar was a one-story building on the edge of the bayou. It had a rust-splotched tin roof, tiny windows, and a general air of hopelessness. Mary-Alice had parked close enough that her car was in the light, but not so close that drunks would bump into her car or be tempted to relieve themselves on her tires on their way out.

It was so dark inside the Swamp Bar that Mary-Alice felt like she was stepping into a cave. A cave that reeked of stale booze, drugstore cologne, and a hint of vomit. For a moment, the only light she could see was from Gertie’s glow-in-the-dark heart-shaped earrings.

Mary-Alice gripped Gertie’s shoulder and followed her in.

“I can’t see a thing,” Mary-Alice whispered. “Is the power out?”

“No, it’s like this on purpose. So you can’t get a good look at the cockroaches.

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