The Mystic Market by Ruth Perkinson

Author:Ruth Perkinson [Perkinson, Ruth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Gay & Lesbian, Fiction, Lesbian
ISBN: 9781594932564
Google: QEBEYgEACAAJ
Amazon: 1594932565
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2011-09-20T02:40:49+00:00

Chapter nine

He lay in a coma.

Diana and Fannie and Emma set up a prayer line for Aaron. Emma said that it was the world’s greatest wireless connection—she’d seen it on a T-shirt once at Yale. Whatever, I thought.

The following week, the court proceedings in Martinez vs. Teton County School District began its carnival epic rodeo-esque masquerade ball down the center of town to the courthouse two blocks past Broadway and town square on good ole boy Cottage Avenue. It arrived as a civil case involving wrongful death and bullying. We all agreed that the biggest dumbass on the hotseat was the coach. The case was a no-brainer. Margie had told us all that. Martinez and the coach were having an affair. The coach, as we all had known, had been a closet lesbian since the sixth century B.C. and the husband and two kids had been her defense to the heterosexual world that you could be heterosexual and still look like a big fat dyke. Plus, the resource cop was a closeted dyke who should have known better. Margie said that the Martinez family was in good hands with Emma as their attorney although the big fat defense attorney would rip her a new asshole but that I could assuage her soul by making out with her behind the barn at the Mystic Market.

“Shut up, Margie!” I buttoned my brown sheriff’s shirt.

Margie came into my bedroom as I attached my name tag. “Do you know who you are by attaching your name tag? Do you point to people and say, ‘I’m Deputy Blair Wingfield’? Do you need a bullet for your pocket?”

Mick laughed from Aaron’s desk as she noodled over some stuff online about the court case. I was headed to the courthouse to do security with Oneida.

“I thought you guys would be headed out of town by now and on your way back to California to drive the Pacific Coast Highway, smoke hookahs and listen to garage band rock while you sell real estate and take on the newest hippie chick band full of tattoos, tits and glittered toenails.”

“Yo.” Margie put her hands in the air. “Stop with the alliteration, Deputy. You might think we think you might be smart.”

Mick turned around with her smallness and her shrill voice re-echoed through my bungalow. “The case is all over the Internet. Looks like we’re staying for a bit…perhaps through the end of the trial. There are a few local people we’re going to see and then we’re headed off to L.A. for a CD release gig for one of my up-and-coming female bands—Lost Princess.”

Margie handed me my belt and reminisced. “It’s so cool to see you dress up. Remember when we used to go into the outbuilding behind the Mystic Market and play dress up as kids? You were always the pirate and I was the Queen of England. You were extra cute in the eye patch, Blair.”

I wiped some dust from my bureau mirror. “Margie, you looked like a

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