LOLA, AKA SLIP-SLIDING IN A NEW REALITY

My dad’s sprawling ranch-style home is hidden in the woods. I pull down the quiet trail leading from the main road to the extended driveway. Near the oversized garage are the two trees planted by my parents to celebrate the births of their daughters. Those jacaranda trees are tall and lush now. When I have kids one day, I plan to plant the same kind of trees.

Inside the house, I find Clover shuffling around in the hallway, hair in her face and droopy flannel pants almost hanging off her butt. She won’t be truly awake for a while.

Enjoying her day off, Grandma Erin sits at the back windows with a cup of coffee and a racy romance book. Though she has her own house located across the road, she’s often at Duke’s place.

“Your dad got in late,” she tells me and smirks. “You’re not the only one who got lucky last night.”

Sex was never a big secret growing up. My parents were the most attractive people in town. Women threw themselves at Duke long before he was divorced. Reckless men flirted with my mom right in front of Clover and me. I knew at a very young age how people were in constant heat.

Kerrie never made sex out to be a dangerous mystery. She explained the pros and cons, so I’d make a smart decision for myself when I got old enough. I plan to be as open with my kids.

As I prep breakfast for the family, I imagine a child with Val. He’s so certain about what he wants. His decisiveness is addictive. Now, I’m just as certain about what our future will hold.

Grandma Erin moves her coffee to the kitchen island, where she settles on a stool. Not long afterward, Duke appears from his bedroom, looking startled to find me.

“I didn’t figure you’d come around today,” he explains as I pour him a cup of coffee. “Not after what happened yesterday.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Yesterday was a good day.”

“Sure,” Duke mutters and settles onto a stool near his mother.

I return to prepping breakfast while waiting for Clover to reappear in a more awake state.

Grandma Erin chuckles and says, “Glad to see you worked out your frustrations.”

Figuring she’s teasing me, I turn around to notice how she’s grinning at Duke.

“What?” he mutters.

“You’ve needed to decompress after all your recent stress. I hope you were as giving as you were receiving with the woman.”

A sleepy Duke hides none of his irritation when he asks, “Have I stepped into an alternative reality? Why do I not understand anything you’re saying?”

Spotting what Grandma Erin noticed, I tap his throat and ask, “Did the woman suck your brain out through your dick?”

Duke frowns at me and lifts his phone. Using the camera, he gets a look at the hickey on his throat.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, is the sexual encounter coming back to you now?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Did you hit up the trailer park?” Grandma Erin asks, snickering at the thought of her son paying a woman for sex. “No shame in needing an outlet.”

“It’s just a fling,” he says, sounding overly irritated. “Let’s focus on Lola’s hickeys.”

“We all know who attacked her throat,” Grandma Erin says as I begin frying the bacon. “I’m curious about your situation.”

“It was a quickie. No reason to give details.”

“Where did you meet the gutter slut?” I ask, moving closer to him to observe his hickey. “Was it in a gutter?”

Duke flashes his irritated gaze in my direction before realizing he’s now surrounded by questioning women. Even a half-asleep Clover joins in after she pours herself a cup of coffee.

My father’s shoulders sag. I feel him wishing he had avoided us by sleeping late. He runs his hands through his dark hair and seems worn out. I don’t know why he’s acting so shy. His sexual exploits aren’t secrets.

“She’s a stripper,” Duke fesses up. “I was riding around and stopped at a place to get a drink.”

“You didn’t eat from the buffet, did you?” Clover asks, really hitting him with the important questions.

“No, baby,” he replies, chuckling at her fearful face. “Anyway, one of the dancers and I hooked up. It’s not love. We aren’t a couple. I didn’t realize she marked me. Let’s drop it, okay?”

“Because of your shame?” I taunt, snickering with my grandmother at Duke’s sheepish expression. “You do seem to feel mighty guilty.”

“Strippers aren’t hookups anyone should brag about.”

Patting his back, I return to breakfast. “There’s no harm in having fun.”

Grandma Erin nods and focuses on reading. “What’s the point of looking like you do, Duke, if you can’t woo young women?”

Duke’s tension eases once he realizes his stripper hookup only warranted a few chuckles from us. My dad getting laid isn’t a big deal. I grew up with my Grandma Erin randomly showing up with old dudes she met around the state.

She never had a type of man. It was always about opportunity. Most available men her age were either losers or widowers still in love with their dead wives.

As we finish breakfast, I feel guilty over how I get to be with someone like Val while my family has never enjoyed such romance.

Of course, my father liked my mom. They had fun together. Kerrie made him laugh. He was patient with her eccentric nature. They rarely argued.

But they never shared what I feel for Val. My mom has that goofy, gooey kind of love with her dork Minnesota husband now.

While I certainly don’t hope Duke falls for a stripper, I do want him to be happy. Maybe that’s why I don’t brag about how much fun Val and I had together yesterday.

I keep my joy on the down low during breakfast and only mention how I’m meeting with the homestead women to shop for dresses this week.

“I hoped Mom would fly in early to help me pick the dress,” I mumble when I consider Kerrie’s lack of excitement over my wedding.

“Kerrie doesn’t view this marriage as the real deal,” Duke explains and strokes my back. “You should tell her how Val is the guy you want and not the one you’re stuck with.”

I smile at his wording. “Val’s great. I can’t wait until you warm up to him. He’s going to make you feel much better about the future.”

Duke’s soft gaze goes wary. “Even if he isn’t the club’s savior, he makes you happy. That makes him worthwhile in my book.”

Changing the subject, Grandma Erin asks, “Did you pick a bridesmaid dress color yet?”

“I’m leaning toward a shade of red,” I admit, and Clover’s mouth falls open in horror. “Red is a good color on you.”

“Red doesn’t seem very wedding-like,” Duke says, wearing his “meddling father” expression. “Why not choose something pastel like your mom had at her wedding to Merv?”

“Because I don’t like pastels,” I reply and pull up my phone. “This wild rose color isn’t slutty like you think.”

“I never said slutty.”

“You were judging me with your eyes,” I reply, and he shrugs. “The color’s flattering. It’ll even look nice on Alexis with her red hair.”

“Okay, that’s not bad,” Duke says as he checks the photos on my phone. “I thought you meant fire-engine red.”

“I have good taste.” When my family doesn’t agree immediately, I scowl. “I do.”

“Okay, kid,” Duke taunts and taps the phone. “That’s a good color. Maybe you can find a dress that doesn’t upset your sister.”

We glance at Clover wearing her heartbroken pout. I hug her against me, but she only looks ready to crawl out of her skin.

“I was looking at the designs available at the store. They have jumpsuit styles.”

Clover instantly stops pouting. “I don’t wear dresses.”

“I know.”

“I’ll do it for you, but I don’t want to.”

“I want you to feel comfortable. It’s a party for Val and me, not a punishment.”

With Clover smiling easier now, Grandma Erin makes a big deal out of the jumpsuit style to pump up my sister for the shopping experience. I love how excited they are.

This is what I want. No more doom and gloom talk. I want to celebrate my good fortune.

With Val still in Tumbling Rock, I find myself following my dad around after breakfast.

“Back off,” Duke tells me when I tail him too closely on his way to the garage.

“You’re acting weird.”

Duke studies me. In these moments, when he hides his heart, I can understand why people fear him. Right now, instead of my dad, he’s Duke McGraw, the motorcycle club president and king of Basin Rock.

“What would you give up to be with Val?” he asks.

Stepping back, I’m startled by the question. The answer isn’t clear until I think of a sleepy Val smiling at me this morning. I’d stared at him and imagined an older Val, decades in the future, waking up next to me wearing the same smile. He’s my one chance at true happiness.

“I’d give up everything for Val.”

Duke frowns like I’m a fool. “Just like that?”

Nodding, I feel silly to confess such a thing. I was so sensible only days ago. Now, I can’t shake this all-encompassing need to be with Val. If he walked away from me, I’d lose something fundamental inside me.

“Then, it’s good he’s hung up on you, isn’t it?” Duke says and then juts his jaw toward the house. “Let up on me, Lola. I already plan to take him riding in a day or two That’s what you want, right? For me and your boy-toy to bond.”

“Yes, but be nice.”

“He isn’t a child, Lola, and I’m not your enemy. Calm the hell down,” he says, sounding more tired than angry.

“I’ll try, but I’m in uncharted territory right now. All my armor broke away yesterday. Val owns my heart. If he’s unhappy, I am, too.”

“So, when he and I butt heads like men are prone to do, are you planning to whine to me in his defense?”

“Yes, all the time, endlessly,” I tease and poke his arm. “It’ll be unbearable. I’m sorry, but that’s love.”

Duke shares my smile. “Okay, but you need to get off my ass right now, so I can go.”

Backing off, I let Duke ride out of the garage without making any more emotional pleas. The reality is Val doesn’t need my protection. I learned that yesterday, too.

Val isn’t so different than my dad. Duke was once a young, handsome guy people wrote off as too pretty to be scary. Unlike my dad, Val is the third generation of men in his family to be involved in a motorcycle club. He can hold his own.

Even knowing all this, I remain insecure about my new situation. Sure, Val distracts me with his fine body. We also walk around the neighborhood. One evening, we shoot hoops at the park. The casual way we can spend time together ought to slice right through my growing wall of fears.

Instead, I’m still nervous when I meet the homestead women for dress shopping. They’re already in the Rockwell parking lot when Clover and I arrive.

Tuesday dances around Roxie as they wait near their cars. “Barracuda” plays on her phone, and Oana pretends to play the guitar. Alexis hides under the dress shop’s awning. An uneasy Edith stands between the two groups.

“Our newest best friends are here!” Tuesday announces, really pushing the happy warrior vibe today.

Once inside the shop, I decide to get the difficult part out of the way first. “This is the color I’ve chosen,” I announce and show them the sample dress from a rack. “You can pick any design of dress, but it needs to be this color.”

To my relief, they don’t noticeably rebel. Instead, Tuesday insists, “I’m going to look so hot. You really should have picked an uglier color, so you’d stand out more during the wedding.”

“Don’t make me mention the ‘slut off’ we had,” I warn Tuesday who only shrugs. I turn my gaze to Alexis. Her eyes widen under my attention. Oana inches closer to her cousin-in-law to show support. “Will that color be okay for you?”

“Why are you asking me and not Edith or Oana?”

I refuse to answer since I know she knows the answer. Alexis flashes a big smile.

“I can turn on West even when I’m dressed as a clown for parties. I’m not worried about looking bad in my bridesmaid dress.”

“That’s good to know. I was worried there’d be complaints,” I say, and they all stare at me as if waiting for something. “Um, let’s start shopping.”

Everyone smiles except for Edith. Val’s cousin refuses to perk up through several visits to the dressing rooms. She finally chooses a lovely dress with a one-shoulder neckline and a front slit.

“You’ll be so fuckable,” Tuesday insists while searching for the most revealing bridesmaid’s dress possible.

When Edith doesn’t react to her cousin’s comment, I sense she doesn’t want to be here. Edith’s got a specific vibe that makes me feel small.

Clover distracts me from my worries by being weirded out by the jumpsuit she’s tried on. “It’s very feminine,” she mumbles.

“Well, I guess I could change the color to black.”

“No,” Clover insists and nudges me as we stand in front of the mirror. “I’ll wear whatever you want. This is your wedding. But I feel like a phony standing in this outfit next to the rest of them.”

“You look so pretty,” Roxie reassures her. “I’m going to do the jumpsuit style, too.”

“My girl likes to cover her sexy parts,” Tuesday says from where she tries on a strapless dress. “I’m planning to remind Bullet why he married me.”

“Don’t you do that every moment of the day?” Roxie asks, sounding like the exasperated teen she is. “You were half-naked at breakfast this morning.”

“I was fully naked before breakfast this morning. Wink, wink,” Tuesday says and tugs up the front of her dress. “It’s too big in the boob section. How is that even possible? Are my girls not proportioned right for the rest of my body?”

“We can have the front fixed for you,” the clerk offers immediately and hurries over.

While Tuesday remains still for the measurements, Alexis and Oana walk over to me.

“You need a dress,” Alexis says.

“I picked one out with Val.”

Oana nods. “Shouldn’t you try it on?”

“I thought I might come back later for that.”

“Why?”

“She’s afraid you’ll think her dress is slutty,” Clover says and grins at me. “Because it is.”

Looking around at the women, I admit, “Val and I decided to have a horny wedding.”

“That was also the theme of my wedding!” Tuesday cries from the dressing room.

Roxie rolls her eyes and glances at Clover. “She isn’t wrong, though.”

My sister smiles immediately. Though shopping is one of her least favorite activities, she seems to be having fun today. She remains in her jumpsuit while Roxie tries on a matching one. They laugh in a silly way at their reflections. Clover’s giddiness makes me feel better about dragging her here.

With gentle nudging from Oana and Alexis, I locate the dress picked by Val and me in between sex romps.

“That’s beautiful,” Edith tells me as the clerk holds it up. “It’s not slutty.”

“The off-shoulder sleeves make it seem like the top might fall off and reveal my breasts.”

“Sure, it’s sexier than most people would wear, but it’s not slutty,” Edith insists and takes the dress from the clerk before holding it in front of me as we look in the mirror. “As long as it’s fitted well enough to not fall off and show your breasts, it’ll be fine.”

I take a moment to admire Edith up close. She’s intimidating when she frowns like a high school mean girl. Her mom is known as a tough chick. Edith might be tough, too, but she looks like an Instagram model. Though I’m not a weakling and get plenty of male attention, I find myself intimidated by her.

Suddenly, she smiles brightly and all the bitchiness drains from her face. “Will your hair be up or down?” Edith asks as I admire the dress.

“I think down looks better.”

“Women with great hair should always go with down.”

Smiling at her, I’m curious about Val’s family. His mom and dad seem put out by my existence, but he swears that’s temporary.

“They’ll love you when things are official,” he promised last night. “You’re too great for them not to adore.”

Even if he’s wrong, these women today could be my support system in Tumbling Rock. Though I view myself as an independent woman capable of holding my own, I’ve only ever lived in Basin Rock. That’s where I’m at my strongest.

“We need to find a dress for Betty,” Edith tells Oana. “She couldn’t be here today, but she’s excited about the wedding.”

“Her body is similar to mine!” Tuesday cries and runs out of the dressing room in her regular clothes. “I’ll test out the dresses for her. Let me try on various ones, and we’ll send her pictures.”

Soon, they choose a dress with a bustier bodice and A-line slit skirt. By then, I’ve fallen in love with my dress and made the purchase.

Around me, everyone is goofing around. I overhear Clover and Roxie talking about going somewhere for lunch. Alexis joins the conversation. Tuesday starts bouncing around the shop, hugging everyone.

This festive mood over the wedding is what I’ve craved. My marriage isn’t simply a business deal. Val loves me. We’re starting our life together. This wedding is my big day. Now I have a group of women excited to be a part of it.

As if the universe has decided I’m too happy, a local bitch named Elishia Hill spots us. Her stupid face presses against the glass window as she stares inside and decides whether to ruin our fun.

Elishia quickly enters with her giant cornfed cousins, Shitgibbon One and Shitgibbon Two. The three bitches are known all over the county for starting trouble with other women. While they would lick the piss off a man’s foot, they’d refuse to call for help if a woman was on fire. I’ve always suspected they believed if they were born male, they wouldn’t be losers.

“Keep walking,” Tuesday says when Elishia struts inside.

“Screw you, skank.”

The clerks stand behind the counter and try to disappear. Meanwhile, Tuesday’s hands tighten into fists, but she doesn’t lunge for the bitch.

Elishia looks us over before flipping back her dyed black hair, likely because she thought that gesture looked cool in a movie.

“Which one of you whores tricked a man into marriage?” she sneers and looks back at her cousins who laugh despite her not being funny. “I can’t imagine anyone would marry the ginger.”

Alexis gasps. “But I’m hot, and my hair color is real. Men really appreciate that.”

Tuesday steps in front of Alexis and glares at Elishia. “You know she’s married to West who never once fucked you. He always said you smelled of old cigarettes and a poorly wiped ass.”

“Well, big whoop, because I fucked your other brother.”

Now, I’m the one gasping. “Gross!”

“No,” Tuesday whimpers, immediately rushing toward me. “You have to understand. Val had consumed so much moonshine that night. He was lucky not to fuck a guy or a moose. So, when you consider it that way, you can understand why he let this thin-lipped hag suck him off next to a Chick-fil-A dumpster. Please don’t judge Val. He normally has great taste.”

When Elishia grabs a handful of Tuesday’s wavy hair, the room freezes. I can already hear the impending scream as Tuesday inhales sharply and prepares to unleash her banshee cry.

Edith’s fist sends Elishia toppling ass over tit. The hag ends up flat on her back, staring shocked at the ceiling.

Edith faces the cousins. The two shitgibbons glare at her, likely jealous of her shiny-as-fuck hair and modelesque face. Despite their better judgment, I sense they’ll try to kick her ass simply out of jealousy.

“Have you lost your damn minds?” I holler before they can jump her. “This is a family-friendly business, not a dive off the highway. These people,” I say and wave my hand at the staff who might as well grab popcorn for how excited they seem by the show, “are trying to fucking work! Have some damn class!”

My tirade doesn’t do the trick. Shitgibbon One throws a punch at Edith, and a fight breaks out.

No matter how badly I want to stand back and avoid getting bruised before my big day, Val’s people are my responsibility. I dive for Shitgibbon One and drop her with a kick to her ankle. I fall on the larger woman and start punching.

Shitgibbon Two grabs my hair and yanks me backward off her sister. I hear Tuesday scream “skank beatdown” as I dodge monster-sized feet.

Feeling recharged Elishia rushes after Edith who acts like a prizefighter by throwing a right punch to Elishia’s nose, followed by a left to the belly before ending with an uppercut to the jaw. No longer recharged, the thin-lipped hag drops again.

Roxie and Tuesday drag Shitgibbon Two off me and tag-team their larger opponent. That’s when I jump on Shitgibbon One and start punching her again.

“We have no one to fight,” Alexis says to Clover as a pregnant Oana hides behind a rack of dresses.

My sister helps me to my feet and then asks Shitgibbon One, “Are you going to fight anymore?”

“Bitch, I’m going to hit you until you turn pretty,” Shitgibbon One snarls and rolls to her feet.

Clover looks at Alexis. “See? We can play with this idiot, so my sister will stop messing up her hands before the wedding.”

I back away and watch the two of them circle Shitgibbon One. Poor Alexis can’t fight for shit. However, Clover uses some of the fancy karate moves she learned during high school and drops Shitgibbon One for good. Nearby, Tuesday and Roxie beat the fight out of Shitgibbon Two.

“We won!” Alexis cries and bounces around. “I wasn’t sure we would because we had to worry about our looks and they didn’t. But we did it, team!”

Everyone claps. Well, not Edith. She looks genuinely angry.

“It’s okay,” I tell her while she fiddles with her purse and I get the feeling she might pull a gun. “These losers are always starting trouble.”

“Yeah, baby,” Tuesday says and hugs her cousin. “You don’t need to worry. My hair is still gorgeous.”

Edith rolls her eyes. “I’m sick of people starting shit with us. Every time we go out, someone needs to get into our business. We can’t have a lick of privacy.”

As Elishia and her cousins crawl their defeated asses out of the shop, Tuesday sways with Edith trapped in her embrace. I watch them, uncertain if this behavior is normal.

Though I don’t know Tuesday and Edith well, they aren’t strangers. Back in the day, Tuesday and I dated the same guys. Once we had a “slut off” at a bar, where we danced on opposing tables while guys voted on who’d they rather bang. Duke was horrified when he heard about our hijinks. He was far less irritated when he learned I won.

“Thank you for throwing down today,” I tell them, trying to gauge their moods.

Tuesday smiles effortlessly, bright and sunny like usual. Even when she lost our “slut off,” she simply bounced around the bar while claiming I’d gotten pity votes on account of me being a brunette.

Edith suddenly frowns hard at me like I’m her enemy. Then, just as quickly, her anger fizzles out, leaving her looking sad. I don’t know what the hell I’ve done to make her feel so bad.

She tugs free of Tuesday’s embrace and walks away. I look to her cousin to explain.

“She’s the last homestead kid to be without their dream person,” Tuesday says. “But even though she’s super jealous of your love, she’ll still have your back. That’s the kind of quality family you’re marrying into, Lola.”

“Yes, you were very impressive. Thanks for explaining the Val moonshine situation for me, too.”

“I just want everyone to be happy,” Tuesday says and then loses her smile. “If Edith doesn’t find a man soon, she’ll move away and I’ll be sad. You should prepare for me to whine a lot.”

“And I will be supportive because that’s the kind of quality family Val is marrying into.”

Tuesday finds her smile and begins to bounce. “Let’s go get spicy drinks and wings for lunch.”

As we file outside to a warm day, I study my knuckles for a moment and realize I’ve busted a few of them.

“What’s everyone's schedule tomorrow? I wouldn’t mind getting my nails done before the wedding?”

Tuesday bounces next to Roxie. “Our girl gang is growing! Pussy power!”

Roxie rolls her eyes, even as she grins at Tuesday’s enthusiasm. Our group is in a festive mood, including my sister who rarely wants to go out and do anything.

The only one wearing a pout is Edith. Even after she drinks a giant margarita and scarfs a half dozen chicken wings, she can’t find her smile.

Right then, I decide to go on the hunt for a guy for Edith Mooney. She’s hot-as-fuck and can punch like a dude. I’m sure she has other qualities.

If I can gain anything from my slutty past, it’s my long list of exes to hit up for a date with Edith.