Chapter 26 – Everybody's Famous In A Small Town

Tuesday, July 8, 1969 – 1:15pm.

With the dryer on its highest setting to bake her newly tie-dyed bikini into submission, Lacy pours herself a glass of cold Hawaiian Punch and settles down at the kitchen table to add to her most recent letter to Riley.

PS Whatever – Okay, so I ain't got much to say here, for sure not enough for a whole new letter, and I'm too ornery to go check what PS I left off at, so deal with it.

My usta-be all-white bikini now has pretty red, yellow, an' blue swirlies all over it, and the front porch mostly didn't get too trashed, so I'm actually sorta proud of myself. But get this...Josie an' me hung out all night in Peg's room, all three of us barely dressed, barefooted, an' sober.

Then Ma brought vodka and joined us, an' shit went south in a hurry.

We sorta rewrote 'Three Blind Mice,' which was a trip.

Here's our version, hope you like it:

Three dumb shits, three dumb shits/See how they run, see how they run/They all ran after the principal's wife, she cut off their balls with a carving knife, now they all live a celibate life/Three dumb shits

Three dumb shits, three dumb shits/See how they whine, see how they whine/They sit at the bar and cry in their beers, while everyone else just whispers and jeers, they bawl like a trio of castrated steers/Three dumb shits

Three dumb shits, three dumb shits/See how they act, see how they act/They strut around town like they own the joint, totally clueless but that ain't the point, lookin' for someone, some fool to anoint/Three dumb shits

Three dumb shits and one blind pig/See how they are, see how they are/They swam to Tokyo trolling for sluts, but a Samurai warrior sliced out their guts, now they just lie there minus their nuts/Have you ever seen such a sight in your life, as four dead shits?

So what do you think? Are we on our way to fame an' fortune, or headed for the nearest loony bin?

Probably both, I reckon, what with some newspaper guy stoppin' by the cafe later to do a story, but whatever. I'll tell you how it goes in my next real letter, right now Peg just walked in lookin' all pissy at me like 'Why ain't you in the truck yet?'

Sisters, I swear.

Love 'til later, and take care!

Lacy

As Peggy enters the kitchen to find Lacy diligently writing in her notebook, she is totally unaware of the stormy look on her face – which, truth be told, has nothing to do with her sister and everything to do with the nail she just chipped changing out the oil on her pickup.

"You clean up well," she says, her annoyance fading when she notices the cute little sundress and matching white sandals Lacy has on.

Lacy looks up, her hair half-hiding her narrowed eyes.

"Ma said to look nice in case the reporter wants a picture." She shrugs. "This is the only dress I got that still fits me."

Peg grins. "You mean it's the only one that doesn't even hit mid-thigh on you."

"That too," Lacy says, her own grin radiant. "An' you need to check out my toes."

"How come?" Peg looks down at Lacy's feet and frowns. "What're those black marks on each nail?"

"Letters." Lacy stands up, holding her feet close together, and then Peg sees it, 'Lubbock A-J' spelled out across all ten of her sister's toes.

"Girl, I like the defiance, but how'd you get the polish on those little bitty toenails?"

"Toothpick. Josie showed me how one time."

The phone rigs, and Lacy answers it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, kiddo, it's me."

"Grandpa! How you been, an' why ain't you here? The Gazette is doin' a story on us down at the cafe, I bet they'd love to interview a wise old geezer like you."

Grandpa laughs. "Evvie called me about that, she said the same thing you just did but without the sobriquet."

"You should drive down an' meet us there. I could use the moral support."

"You got it, Hawkeye's already waitin' on me in the car. But what's this moral support crap? You ain't scared of a little fame, are you?"

Now it's Lacy's turn to laugh. "You know me better than that. It's just, I dunno, I keep thinkin' about what Granny usta say all the time, how everybody in a small town is born famous and dies famous, but what we do in between is what God measures us by."

"Yeah, she liked that one, used it on me more times than I care to admit, but what's got your knickers all in a bunch?"

Lacy pauses before answering, wanting him to understand. "Here's the way I see it, Grandpa. God I can deal with 'cause he knows what's in my heart, but the last thing I need is some asshole reporter givin' the folks here in Rebel Creek a different cup to measure me by."

"He can't unless you let him, and besides, them folks down there couldn't measure gold dust with a dinosaur's hind leg."

"Grandpa! I don't even know what that means."

"Me neither, Lacy Ann. But I reckon I just put a smile on your face, didn't I?"

"You sure did."

"Good. Now what say we both get a move on so we can show that newspaper fella what a wise old geezer and his wise young granddaughter can do."

Ten minutes later Lacy joins her sister in the El Camino, toes off the sandals, and puts her bare feet on the dash – a habit Peggy has long since learned to ignore, or at least tolerate.

"That didn't take long," she says, starting the engine.

"My sandals, or my talk with Grandpa?"

"Both, but I was referring to the sandals."

Lacy shrugs. "I promised Ma I'd wear 'em. Never said how long."

Peg laughs. "I like your logic."

Lacy gives her a sideways look. "You didn't used to."

"Not always, but mostly I was just being stubborn."

After tuning the radio to the local country station, Peg backs out of the driveway and they ride in amicable silence until Lacy breaks it.

"Peg, how come we wasted so much time bein' mad at each other?"

"Because one of us, and I don't mean you, was a jealous, angry bitch."

"Like I wasn't?" Lacy shoots back, the raw self-loathing in Peggy's voice making her wish she'd kept her fat mouth shut.

"Not at first. You thought I hung the moon, at least 'til all that stuff came out about Daddy's tryst in Tokyo."

"You took his side, you an' Stuart both, an' I took up for Ma." Her fists clench at the memory. "And Daddy just acted like nothing was his fault."

"He can be clueless," Peg admits, keeping one hand on the wheel as she shakes a cigarette up from her pack, extracts it with her lips, and lights it. "But he's still our father."

"Ain't denyin' that." Lacy rolls down her window and lets the wind whip her hair, then looks over at Peg. "Look, sis, I don't wannna argue, okay? I'm sorry I said anything."

"Don't be. I guess there's still some crap we need to clear the air on."

"No shit," Lacy tells her, glaring at Peg's cigarette. "Those things reek."