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Denise - Gran And Gladys, the Dirty Old Ladies Club
“So how do you know Ryder, dear?” Gran is the cutest little old lady. She’s wearing a bright purple, two-piece track suit with white high top Air Jordan sneakers. Oddly enough, even the fact that she’s wearing a trucker hat that proudly reads ‘fuck bitches, get money’ across the front doesn’t detract from her cuteness. She’s brewing a pot of tea and while the kettle boils, she asks me to get the tea cups from her little china cabinet in the living room.
“I manage the band,” I say, while I find the teacups. What the hell? These teacups are not what I was expecting. They look like normal bone china teacups, but in addition to the beautiful flowers and gilding along the edges, each cup has a different curse word printed in gold calligraphy. “Um, Delores? Are these the teacups you want us to use?”
“Call me Gran, dear,” she says before she comes out of the tiny kitchen and looks at the cups in my hands.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Aren’t they hilarious? I found them at a local craft fair. Well, it was more like a kink convention, but they also had all sorts of vendors, not just the usual BDSM fare. One can only buy so many whips and restraints, you know. This place doesn’t have nearly as much storage as I would like.”
“Gran!” Ryder is coming inside, finally. He didn’t come out and say it, but I think he needed a minute to ‘soften the statue’. Heh. “This is Denise’s first time visiting you. Don’t scare her away with your kink convention stories. She’s not ready for that much information yet.”
He looks over at me and mouths ‘sorry’, before going over to his Gran and giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Now, I hate to ask, but do you still have my joggers or something else I can change into? I need to get out of these Jell-O clothes and I need to shower. I can’t believe you would ambush me with Jell-O balloons.”
“Well, it’s not like it was my idea. Gladys came up with it, and she’s the one who posted the sign-up sheet in the bingo hall.”
“I did not, you old bat!” Gladys screeches from the hallway, where she’s just come out of the bathroom. “I still have the sheet if you want to see it, Ryder. It says ‘help me drown my grandson with Jell-O balloons and wipe that smug look off his stupid face’. You’re certainly not my grandson. And thank goodness for that, or the dreams I’ve been having would really be inappropriate.” She fans herself with her hand while she looks Ryder up and down.
Oh my god, Gladys just announced that she has sex dreams about Ryder. She’s 80 years old if she’s a day and she is having sex dreams about her best friend’s grandson. Ryder just runs a palm down his face and shakes his head. I choke on my spit while I try not to laugh. Visiting with Gran might be hazardous to my health. How many times can I choke on nothing before I die, I wonder?
“I’m just going to grab a towel and throw my stuff in the wash, Gran. I won’t be able to do all your cleaning for you today. I don’t do my best work in my underwear.”
“No, I should hope not,” she says with a wink to me. “Tell me he at least gets fully undressed when he’s getting up in them guts. He’s not one of those men who leaves his socks on, is he?”
I choke again, and a huge laugh bursts out of me. What do you say when someone’s grandmother inquires about their grandson’s sex habits? When she clearly enunciates ‘getting up in them guts’? Even if I know for a fact he gets fully undressed, it’s not like I’m going to tell her that. Luckily, Ryder chimes in to save me because my mouth is working, but no sounds are coming out.
“Gran! For fuck’s sake. Can you please just behave for five minutes? I just need to shower before you start being insane, OK?” He comes over to me next and whispers, “I will be so quick. If I weren’t covered in sticky goo, I wouldn’t leave you alone with her. Just don’t let them gang up on you. She and Gladys have a way of making people say things they don’t want to. I swear, they should work for the police doing interrogations.”
I laugh from nervousness, not humour. OK, well it’s partly from humour. I’m starting to feel a morbid curiosity over what this crazy granny will say next. But even though I’m not really keeping any secrets, the idea of discussing my sex life with Ryder, with his own grandmother, against my will, has my palms sweating and my heart beating a little too quickly.
“Please hurry,” I joke, but not really. “I’m a little scared.”
He nods once, his tongue poking out and playing with his lip ring, before turning and running to the bathroom. I think this will be the quickest shower of his life.
“So Denise. Now that we got rid of that pain in the ass, party pooper, grandson of mine,” Gran says to me with a sweet smile. “Can I offer you some whiskey with your tea?”
Shit. I don’t want her to know that I’m pregnant, since she clearly thinks Ryder and I are together.
“No, thank you.” Hopefully that’s good enough for her, but I have a feeling it won’t be.
“Oh come on now, just a little nip won’t hurt ya. I won’t even tell Ryder you’re encouraging his old granny to drink,” she says with a wink.
I laugh at her attempts to blackmail me. “I seriously doubt he’d believe that I could pressure you to do anything. You seem to be the one in charge here.”
“Ha! Good eye, girlie. I like you. Now you need to drink with me. Let’s have a toast. To keeping my dumbass grandson in the dark.” She goes to pour some whiskey into the teacup she’s selected as mine; the one that says ‘Bitch’.
“No, Gran. Really. I can’t.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Hmm. That’s what I thought. So, spit it out. How far along are you?”
“What?” I splutter. “How did you know?” I’m starting to think that maybe Gran is a witch. How else would she be able to tell I’m pregnant just from my declining whiskey? It’s the middle of the afternoon. Plenty of people would say no to whiskey at this time of the day.
“Oh, lots of reasons,” she says. “Gladys and I both knew as soon as Ryder drove up with you. Isn’t that right, Gladys?” She looks around for Gladys and finally finds her down the hall, holding a glass up to the bathroom door, trying to eavesdrop on Ryder in the shower. “Gladys, what the hell are you doing? He’s not talking in there, you’re not going to hear anything.”
Gladys sighs heavily and comes back to where we’re standing in the living room. When she stands next to Gran, you can see that they consulted each other when they got dressed today. They’re tracksuits are the same brand, just different colours, and they have the same white Air Jordans. Gladys doesn’t have a hat though. I guess only Gran is down with fucking bitches and getting money.
