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“How much toilet paper do you have stuffed in there?”
Gertie, Ida Belle and Marge had arrived early and were already standing in front of Sinful Photo when Miss Louanne arrived to open for the day. Her eyes were still glued to Gertie’s chest.
“Roll and a half.” Gertie placed her hands underneath her “girls” as if proudly displaying a pair of ripe cantaloupes she’d grown for the parish fair. “I’m happy to say it’s just single ply, so a lot of what you see here is natural.”
Miss Louanne ushered them inside and made a pot of coffee, which she always had on hand for her customers, along with a plate of cookies. Gertie and her friends had started drinking coffee when they’d had to wake extra early for the hour drive to community college over in Lake Charles. She had no idea what the skinny was about coffee, but the more she drank, the more she wanted, which left her wondering how she’d ever learned how to read and write without it.
Gertie had just poured everyone a cup when the door opened and their former home ec teacher, Mellette Blanchard, stepped inside. The three tried to haul their butts behind a row of display racks but were too late.
“Girls,” Mrs. Blanchard said icily, stopping them. Now, there was a woman who could “flip the bird” with her lips and eyes. Mrs. Blanchard was firmly in the camp of Sinful residents against the three of them joining the military.
“Mrs. Blanchard,” they chirped in unison, as they moved back into the middle of the shop.
She sniffed. “I suppose the three of you are preparing for your move to Fort McClellan.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Marge said. “A week to go and I’m already packed.”
Mrs. Blanchard zeroed in on Gertie’s chest. “I see you will be carrying a little extra baggage.”
“What can I do for you today, Mellette?” Miss Louanne asked, trying to engage the old bat in another topic.
“A package of flashbulbs for my Brownie,” she said. “I’m hosting a bridal shower for my niece, Clarice.”
“That’s right, Clarice is getting married next month. The family must be thrilled.”
“Well, of course we are. A big event in every young lady’s life.” She cast a glance at the three girls. “Well, most every young lady’s life. When they’re not tromping off to the military where they don’t belong.”
“I was in the military,” Miss Louanne said. “World War II. Helped in my own way to defeat evil.”
“Yes, but that was a real war. All we have now are advisors in Vietnam. During World War II, everyone was needed. Even women. Today women are needed at home.”
“We want to serve our country,” Marge said, “then come back later and finish college and contribute to society.”
“You want to contribute to society? Get married, have babies, tend to your husbands so they can do all the hard work making this world a better place to live. That, my dear, is serving your country.” She sighed and shook her head. “And you, Gertie, my best student ever. You possess the finest set of homemaking skills I’ve ever seen in a young lady. You’ve mastered French cooking, know how to set a proper table. And family budgeting! My goodness, I still remember your final project on the secret to stretching a family food budget.” She sighed. “Vienna Sausage: The Little Wiener That Could. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”
Gertie mouthed the title along with Mrs. Blanchard and inwardly snickered. Mrs. Blanchard still had no idea Gertie had meant that project as a joke. She did it on a dare from Ida Belle. Gertie had half expected her number-one recipe, Cajun Style Dry Rubbed Weenies, to get her expelled. But no, the project earned her an “A+” and was copied and bound in leather by Mrs. Blanchard to be used in future lessons on food budgeting, which was how Gertie had earned the title, “Wiener Queen,” a name she wasn’t entirely fond of.
Mrs. Blanchard let out a tsk-tsk. “No. I’m sorry, but I can’t be excited for you three. Call me old fashioned but put me down as believing we women were created by our Lord to serve our men.”
Miss Louanne rolled her eyes. “How’s Mr. Blanchard, Mellette? He’s certainly looking well-served these days. Came in here the other morning raving about a strawberry pie he’d had the night before.” Miss Louanne slipped the package of flashbulbs in a small bag and slid it over the glass counter to Mrs. Blanchard, who appeared at a loss for words. Rumor had it that Mr. Blanchard was having an affair with Cassie Long, another home economics teacher at Sinful High. Miss Long’s specialty was pie making. Mrs. Blanchard was more of a cake gal. Miss Louanne held a hand to her mouth. “Oh, that’s right, forgive me. Perhaps I heard him wrong. Perhaps he said strawberry cake. Two dollars, sixty-nine cents. Will that be all?”
Mrs. Blanchard took her coin purse from her bag with shaky hands and counted out the price in change, then took the bag. “Peter and I are doing just fine, thank you.”
“I don’t see what’s so special about staying home and being a homemaker anyway,” Marge said. “If it was so great, why are you teaching at the school and not home cleaning floors all day?”
Miss Louanne’s lip quivered. Good for Marge, Gertie thought.
Mrs. Blanchard sighed. “I went to work after my children were grown, Miss Boudreaux. I get up early every morning to make Peter’s breakfast and bag up his lunch. And I’m home at a decent hour to prepare him a nutritious meal.” She waved her hand. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Honestly, I have never in my day met a young lady so ill equipped to handle the female life she was born into.” She glanced at Ida Belle. “And you, Ida Belle. You’re lucky I gave you a passing grade. It’s been two years and I’m still trying to get those blueberry stains out of my favorite chiffon dress. Didn’t your mother teach you that blueberries were for eating, not shooting across the room and starting a food war?”
Mrs. Blanchard’s face reflected the fact that she went too far mentioning Ida Belle’s dead mother. There was an awkward pause for a moment. A storm brewed in Ida Belle’s eyes. The first word out of her mouth rhymed with ham. The second, with witch. Miss Louanne held out her hand, stopping Ida Belle before she uttered a third, and turned to Mrs. Blanchard. “I am proud of these girls for joining the Army. And if you ask me, using blueberries as projectiles shows some creativity.” She looked at Ida Belle. “Who were you starting a war with?”
“Celia.”
“All the better. Now I’m even more proud.” She returned her focus on Mrs. Blanchard. “And Ida Belle’s right. You are one damn bitch.”
Mrs. Blanchard’s hand flew up to her mouth. After a moment to get over the shock, she huffed, “I’ll have you know I can order these flashbulbs through my Montgomery Ward catalog.”
“Then I suggest you do that,” Miss Louanne answered. “Good day. Don’t let the door hit your royal hiney on the way out. And by the way, it was a strawberry PIE. And Mr. Blanchard’s been gaining a lot of weight lately. Nice to know someone’s keeping him fat and happy.”
Mrs. Blanchard spun on her heels and stomped to the door. As she reached for the doorknob, the door pushed inward. Harvey Chicoron stood in the doorway. Mrs. Blanchard waved the bag of flashbulbs in his face. “If you’re here for flashbulbs, Louanne Boudreaux charges eight cents more than the Montgomery Ward catalog. You might want to tell your parents to think twice about patronizing this establishment.” She lifted her chin in triumph and stormed out the door. Ida Belle, Marge and Gertie raced behind the row of display racks to prepare for Gertie’s grand entrance.
Harvey snickered. “What’s with her?”
Louanne shrugged. “I think she’s having a little visit from her Aunt Flo.”
Harvey wrinkled his nose. “My mom has an annoying Aunt Flo too. I never met her and don’t think I want to.”
Miss Louanne smiled politely. “I’ve got the rent back in the darkroom. Make yourself at home.”
He watched her disappear and muttered to himself, “Nice butt.”
The three girls huddled together. “I’m going in,” Gertie whispered, untucking her buttoned sleeveless shirt from inside her shorts and tying the ends together, making sure to expose her belly button. “A ‘woman of the night’ dressed like this in last night’s episode of The Naked City. How does it look?”
“Trashy,” Ida Belle said.
“Good. Harvey responds well to trashy.” She then unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse. Her breasts, which had been straining against the buttons, billowed out like two escaped convicts breathing free. She reminded herself to go back to the General Store and stock up. Might come in handy in Alabama with the local boys.
Gertie looked down at her cleavage. “Say ‘hi’ to Bridget and Marilyn.”
“You named your boobs?” Ida Belle asked.
Gertie shrugged. “It’s almost like they’ve come alive. Seemed a shame not to.” She licked her lips and emerged from behind the display stands to confront her prey.
“Why, Harvey Chicoron, funny meeting you here,” she said breathily. He stared at her, his eyes drifting down to her magnificent chest. It was well known among the girls that Harvey had never met a boob he didn’t like. Which made sense. It took a big boob to love an even bigger boob. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“Uh-huh.” He continued to stare. Did he even hear her?
“I’d like to talk to you about increasing your landholdings.”
“Okay.” He glanced up at her face, then back at her chest.
“This idea could potentially make us both lots of money.”
His face contorted. Poor Harvey, thought Gertie. When it came down to looking at a great pair of knockers versus discussing money, his mind didn’t know which way to go. She grabbed a photography book from a nearby shelf and held it against her chest. The spell was broken. Harvey pulled his gaze up to Gertie’s face.
“Did you say you wanted to talk about me making money?”
“That’s right, Harvey. Both of us. Now, it’s common knowledge that your daddy would like to buy my family’s land across from Loppinot Island and develop it into something that could make your family some big money. Well, it just so happens my parents would like to buy a vacation home in Florida, but we don’t have the money. Are you following me here?”
“Not really,” Harvey said.
“Then let me spell it out for you,” she said, leaving out the words, “you dunce.” “We both want the same thing. My family needs money, you need our land. I was hoping that I could show you around the property later today. Maybe put together a little picnic for us.”
He glanced down at the photography book blocking his view of her breasts and frowned. She returned the book to its place on the shelf and he smiled. She could feel her stomach acids revolt when she heard herself say, “I could make us some sandwiches and my famous Jell-O salad. My secret ingredient is rhubarb. Makes it tart.” She emphasized the word, “tart,” and licked her lips for added oomph. She added, “I like tart. If you know what I mean,” just in case he actually was dumber than she thought.
“I love tarts,” he said to Marilyn. Or maybe Bridget. She forgot which one was which.
“I thought you might,” she said, licking her lips again and feeling the bile rise in her throat. “I can come by your house at one. Since you’re right on the bayou, we can take your boat to the island.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
“Alrighty then.” She lifted her arm to flip her hair back, a sexy move she’d seen in a recent Elizabeth Taylor flick. Unfortunately, they never show that part in the movie where the lady’s arm knocks against her stuffed bra and disturbs the stuffing. She could feel a hunk of toilet paper sliding down her chest. Bridget was sinking. She glanced in a panic toward the shelf Marge and Ida Belle were hiding behind, trying to signal to them with her eyes that she was having a major TP emergency.
Her plan could have come crashing down with her cleavage if Miss Louanne hadn’t come back into the room and distracted Harvey.
“Here’s the rent.”
While he turned from Gertie to accept the envelope, Gertie slipped behind the display rack.
“My ladies are slipping,” she whispered, sliding a hand inside her blouse and retrieving the escaping wad of toilet paper, which she then shoved back into place.
“It’s lumpy,” Marge whispered. “Looks like you have a thumb growing from your boob.”
Gertie reached inside again and smoothed out the lump.
“How does she look?”
Ida Belle looked from one to the other. “Perfect.”
Gertie emerged from behind the rack as Harvey was handing over a roll of film to Miss Louanne. “My dad would like the pictures by tomorrow afternoon.”
“I have a few orders ahead of you.”
“He said since we own the building, you’d put a rush on it.”
Miss Louanne sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thought so,” Harvey said. He turned back to Gertie, or rather, her ample lady parts and said, “See you at one” before leaving.
Miss Louanne watched him walk past her picture window on his way to collect the rent from the General Store. “Are you sure YOU don’t want to marry him and bump him off in his sleep? No jury around here would convict you.”