Page 10 of Driftwood Daffodil

A text vibration drew my attention back to my phone.

Darth: Have you left yet?

Geeze give a girl some time to find pants.

Then again, if I showed up in a dirty tank top and underwear she probably wouldn’t ask me to pick her up again?

Ugh, but then I’d have to hear Maw Maw’s modesty lecture. I took one naked run down the street and I never heard the end of it. I still owed Memphis for that dare.

Grumbling a curse under my breath, I swung my legs off the bed.

Standing up wasn’t so bad. At least the room wasn’t spinning, which considering I had to operate a motor vehicle was probably a good thing. My stomach however did not agree. For a secondI thought I was gonna blow chunks. Thankfully, I managed to hold it back.

My sister was the one insisting that I come and pick her up, so if anyone was going to witness my entry into the toilet bowl Olympics, it would be her. I would, however, grace Veda with the honor of splashing some water on my face. Mostly because I needed something to help wake me up. But life was about the little things.

The sight that greeted me in the mirror was not one anyone wanted to see. All the makeup on the left side of my face was smeared. Mascara had run under my eyes, causing this punched in the face effect that movie make-up artists would be jealous of, and a bright line of red swept from the corner of my mouth and curved over my left cheek.

My clothes weren’t any better. My tank top looked like I drug myself through a pile of dirt, while Elmo smiled at me from the pajama shorts I found on the floor. My homeless look was topped off with a nice sweaty arch on the right side of my hazelnut hair.

I looked fabulous.

At least that’s what I’d tell the cops when they pulled me over assuming I jacked the truck I was driving.

“Hold on to your zippers men,” I snatched a pair of sunglasses off the hook by the door and grabbed my keys. “the next swimsuit supermodel is about to grace the general public with her presence.”

I was almost disappointed when I stepped outside and saw the afternoon sun glinting off the blue hood of my otherwise brown Ford.

I might be a little upset if it was gone – the truck was Kato’s work in progress before he got locked up – but if it wasn’t there, then I’d have a reason to crawl back in bed. Couldn’t pick my sister up if I didn’t have a vehicle to do it in.

On the upside I found my pants.

One of Maw Maw’s garden gnomes was wearing my jeans like a hat. I preferred to call them yard gnomes because that’s where they were. All over the yard. In the grass, in the garden, under the tree, and behind our cheesy plastic white picket fence. Why a plastic fence I had no idea? Maw Maw was classy like that.

She also had a thing for those creepy little statues. Personally I could do without them. They were always watching me with their beady little eyes and colorful hats. I suppose it was better than the rusted out car frame our neighbor Mr. Garibaldi had on his lawn.

He was currently in the midst of an ongoing war with the local racoon population. By my count the racoons were winning. Last week they stole his broom.

Welcome to Sault Saint Marie Estates. Where the people are almost as run down as the road.

The fact that they put estate in the title was laughable. It was a trailer park, or mobile home court as Maw Maw called it. I called it tornado magnet.

Who in their right mind would put something like this on a hill? Didn’t they ever watch the news? We even had someone that was constantly baking people casseroles, who could complain that she never got her dish back.

I quickly threw the sunglasses over my eyes and dragged my feet forward.

My plan was to escape the heat but then I remembered my truck was too old to have air conditioning. So I settled for driving with the windows down, which did wonders for my current ‘just pulled my ass out of bed’ hairstyle.

By the time I pulled up to the address my sister texted, I looked like one of those glass balls filled with electricity that followed your hand around. A look that I was pretty sure would not be appreciated in a place like this.

I peeked over my sunglasses at the house I was parked in front of. This place looked like one of those picturesque estates in magazines. Complete with a wrap-around porch and fountain to the left, who’s trickling sounds were aggravating my headache.

The only reason I got out of my truck and walked up to the door was because I wanted to get out of here as quick as possible. My bed was calling my name.

I opted for the doorbell, rather than exert the effort it would take to lift the heavy looking handle on the large golden lion door knocker.

A classical song dinged through the air, making my lip curl. Was that Mozart? What kind of pompous ass designated that for their doorbell?

That question was answered when one of the large black double doors swung open.

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