The chime sets off a chain reaction, squealing and shuffling and hollers from members of our crew who don’t feel quite ready yet. It reminds me of my first apartment in Miami, where a flip of the light would send roaches running.
And evidently, I’m answering the door.
I swing it open with a smart aleck-y, “Hello, Arlene Drayton’s residence.”
Then I blink, blink, blink at the grownup version of the little boy from the picture on the wall. “Well,” I say, struggling for a moment to get my tongue to work, “if it isn’t Mr. Unexpected.”
…
“It keeps spilling out,” Bette remarks, as if our entire ragtag group of grannies, one grumpy grandson, and moi, can’t see for ourselves it’s not going well. For the sake of discretion, they’d instructed our designated driver to park in the abandoned lot opposite the comedy club.
“You’re supposed to lick the paper,” Leora says, raising onto her toes to peer over the top of Wanda’s and Gertie’s bent heads.
Ruth nods in agreement. “That’s how they do it on TV.”
They do? What the hell’s she watching?
“The last time I rolled a joint, I ended up having to use a walker for a month,” Bette snarks, the comedienne within warming up to sit the bench.
I kind of hoped finding out the glamma squad expected me to perform standup at the club’s open mic night would be the most stressful part of my evening, but no, they’ve gone and turned the back of the bubbies’ van with the sticky seats into a quickie pot shop.
Seats twelve! With three rows for your grandchildren and extra storage room for your hash and bongs!
“Where’d you get it?” Leora had asked when Wanda unfurled a baggie with glee.
“Gladys P. from bridge club. She’s battled two types of cancer, so she gets the primo medical grade.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” I’d said, covering my ears with my palms, and Noah had given me a sidelong glance rife with amusement.
Designated driver, my ass.
Sure, the bubbies’ giant grandkid van might’ve been a bit intimidating to maneuver around unfamiliar streets, but I could’ve figured it out and said as much back at Arlene’s—as long as Noah remained behind.
It’s one thing to make a fool of myself in front of an audience filled with strangers and my grandmothers; I never signed up for performing in front of a guy who won’t stop crossing my mind.
Naturally, the grandmas had thrown our bargain in my face and promised a surprise once we arrived at our destination that would help me relax. But do you know what I’mnotright now?
Frigging relaxed.
How can I be with Noah in my orbit?
He gives me heart palpitations with his infuriatingly smug smiles, winding me up even tighter than I already am, yet there’s the promise of all the delightsome spinning. No amount of planning or preparation would be enough to figure out what the guy might say or do next, and it leaves me completely discombobulated. In a way I also sorta enjoy?
Still, if I could separate my consciousness from my body for this next task, I’d flee as far and as fast as I could.
“It’s not going to seal if you pack it so full,” Vonetta says, the concerned crinkles between her eyebrows hinting she’s not wholly onboard, either.
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves yet, Mrs. Harris-Wagner.” Gertie tightens the ends of the paper with small, meticulous movements. “I’m gonna tell you the same thing you say to me in the kitchen. Let the expert work.”
“Vaping’s much easier,” Sophia so helpfully provides, swapping her shades for the frames with clear lenses atop her head. “Just a push of a button.”
“Nah, I prefer it straight from the leaf, as close to nature as you can get.” Gertie secures the ends and pops the marijuana cigarette between pursed lips. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“Plus, this is more nostalgic.” Wanda slings her arm around Grandma Helen, and my mouth drops open.
“Grandma!”
“Careful,” Noah says from my side, almost boastful in how jovial he is about having a front row seat to my impending humiliation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re yelling at a grandparent.”
