God Save Rehoboth
Chapter One excerpt:
“Oh my gawd, Lora, you won’t believe what I saw today in the supermarket!”
Clearly, my mother had been reading the tabloids at the register again. She had that conspiratorial, indignant tone. She loved nothing more than to badmouth Hollywood’s latest starlet-harlots.
“What, Ma?” I continued picking at my salad as I watched the other lunch patrons. Of all the people in Rehoboth to run into at a restaurant. I was grossly unprepared for Ma today.
“They’re waxing their hoohoos now! They’re paying strangers to cover their hoohoos with hot wax!” She had her napkin up to the side of her mouth, whispering the dirty parts.
“It’s called a bikini wax, Ma. It’s for hair removal. Pubic hair.”
“Oh Jesus, God, Lora, don’t say pubic in public!”
Here we go.
Her eyes narrowed to slits as she sized me up and I mentally braced for impact. Narrow slits turned to saucers, “For the love of God, Lora, tell me you’re not in on this self-mutilation business! A woman’s body is God’s greenest pasture!”
I had no idea what this meant. What the hell could that mean?
The man at the next table stole a glance in our direction. He was alone and disarmingly handsome, dark hair framed at the temples with just a tiny touch of gray. From his expression it was clear he was enjoying eavesdropping on this conversation of crazy.
“God’s pasture could use a little mowin’ sometimes, Ma, that’s all I’m saying.”
Why not enjoy this? It’s not like I could get this hour back.
The mole on her upper lip was crimson-purple now. That’s how I knew I had her. It was a mood mole. A gargantuan orb of fiery emotion. I remember taking turns with my sister, seeing who could get the rarest color when we were kids. Crimson-purple was right up there on the scale of rare colors.
Copyright © 2013 Kate Raynes