Page 70 of Beautiful Life

I look up at her, trying to suppress my grin as I hear Paige chuckle across from us. “Yes, Rosa, I’m texting.”

“I do that, too,” she quips and then looks to Paige. “Paige, roll your naughty shorts over there to my bag and get my cellular phone.” She enunciates the word cellular, as if Paige would get it mixed up with her home phone.

“Okay, Miss Rosa,” Paige says giggling.

“My son,” Rosa starts as she looks over at me while taking a slurp of her margarita, “he set me up with a new cellular phone. Now I can do the texting with my grandkids. But I can’t type with my fingers, those little buttons are too small for me. They taught me to talk into it, so I text my grandkids all the time because they never answer their darn cellular phones.”

“I bet they love hearing from you,” I say.

“They love me but I have a feeling they’re humoring me with the texting,” she explains. Paige rolls back to us with Rosa’s phone and she goes on, “Here, I don’t know how. Put your number in. You, too, Paige. Now I can do the texting with the both of yous.”

“Rosa, should I walk you home?” Joe asks, interrupting our conversation.

She glares up at him as I finish entering my information into her phone and pass it to Paige. “I guess, since you’ve cut off my margaritas.”

He takes her hand and pulls her up. Holding on to the crook of his elbow, she walks around us slowly. “Keep in touch, you two. I especially want to know what’s goin’ on with that boyfriend of yours.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer.

“I’ll even call you so you won’t have to do ‘the texting,’” Paige adds with a big smile as she hands Rosa her bag and cellular phone.

“Take me home, Joe,” she bosses.

Joe smiles. “Let’s go, Rosa.”

“Well, that should be fun, I love her,” Paige exclaims. “Come on, they were starting to play games in the kitchen and I need another drink.”

Thinking I too love Rosa, I heft my tutu off the sofa to play games in the kitchen with the Carpinos and Joe’s friends.

*****

Tony

As I walk up the steps to my cousin’s house, I hear the party before I see it. I’m no product of the eighties, but I’m pretty sure I hear the drums and clapping sequence from Jack and Diane ringing loud from the house. It’s easy to hear since the front windows are open, meaning the house is packed and the party is going strong. Joe’s birthday parties are always crazy. I can’t remember how old he is, but Joe is unquestionably a product of the eighties. As I open the door, it’s not just the music that assaults me but also voices singing along with the music—badly.

“Finally, time you made it,” I look over to see Vic standing with my sister. Charlotte is wearing overalls with a striped turtleneck, her hair in pigtails and she’s holding a flowerpot with a daisy in one arm and a solo cup in the other hand. Vic is in jeans with a red zip up hoodie and they’re talking to Joe and Micah’s neighbors.

“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask Charlotte.

“Gertie.” Then she turns to glare at her husband and goes on. “Vic is Elliott and our costumes would kick ass if he would stop tossing our ET stuffed animal in the corner.”

“Char, I could care less if you want to carry around that flower pot all night, I’m sick of holding the fake handle bars and basket with a stuffed extraterrestrial in it.” Vic sighs and looks at me. “Why can’t Joe have a normal party?”

I ignore his question to ask my own, “You dressed up as characters that are a brother and sister?”

“Shut up,” Charlotte spits at me. “Nothing says the eighties like ET. These are great costumes.”

Vic turns to his wife. “I told you people would say that.”

“Where’s Leigh?” I not only want to find her but to move on from this conversation.

Vic ignores my question. “Why are you in a suit?”

Frustrated with my client, my case, my night, this party, and wanting to find Leigh, I run my hand through my hair. “I’m Ronald Reagan. Now, where’s Leigh?”

Vic’s face screws up. “Ronald Reagan?”

“You should carry a jar of jelly beans. Without the jelly beans you’re just a guy in a suit,” Charlotte chides.

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