The Walnuts

  “Wait, wait, cutie pie wants my number,” she said, trying to get loose from Ricky, but he hustled her out of the store.

  “You going to be okay?” Danielle asked the shaken clerk, laughing.

  “God that was scary,” he said. “Some of the rich, old women can be a pain in the ass, but that’s something that’s never happened before.”

  “That’s what you get for leading them on,” Danielle said, shaking her finger at him.

  “I did not do anything to deserve that!”

  Danielle looked at the young clerk, smiling. “So, tell me about the rich, old women.”

  “One time I made the mistake of going along and ended up running out of a house without my pants,” he said calmly. “She just thought we were playing hide-and-seek and came looking for me. I was hiding in the bushes, and she’s out there calling, “lover . . . lover”. I was trying to escape across the golf course and security nailed me. I just about lost my job here.”

  Danielle laughed. “Does she still come in?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not pleasant. She’s a woman scorned, you know.” He gulped again. “But I’ve never had anything like “that” happen before,” he repeated.

  “You shouldn’t lead the old ladies on unless you’re willing to give them the little toss they want,” advised Danielle. “Makes it a lot easier.”

  “Oh, yeah? That’s how I lost my last job,” he said.

  “See, you’re too good-looking. It’s a curse, you know?”

  “You should know,” the clerk said, giving Danielle the eye.

  “Are you flirting with me?” asked Danielle. “You’re just a baby.”

  “But, lady, at least you’d be worth the trouble.”

  “Stick to the old, rich women, kid,” she said. “It’s a lot cheaper, and I’d just break your heart.”

  “But it would still be worth it,” the clerk said with a wishful grin as he watched Danielle leave the store.

  *

  As Ruby rounded the home corner, they saw flashing lights down the block.

  “Oh crap, it’s the cops!” shouted Ricky. “Stop!” he commanded, but Wacko sped up.

  “Something has happened at my house!” she said.

  “Damn it, I said stop!”

  But the big Rolls continued racing down the street. Wacko slammed on the brakes, stopping just behind one of the police cars. All the neighbors were outside watching.

  Three police officers were inspecting the damage in the garage. Wacko parked and everyone got out of the car.

  “Has something happened to my house?” she yelled, running over the garage door.

  One of the officers turned when she headed into the garage. He was startled by the wild-looking woman headed straight at him.

  “What happened here?” she shouted. “Who did this?”

  “Are you the owner?” asked the officer.

  Another officer was looking through the hole into the bedroom.

  “What are you doing in my house?” Wacko demanded.

  “Ma’am, we got a call about a disturbance. What happened here?”

  Ricky stepped in front of her. “The gearshift lever sticks,” he said.

  “This was all done with a car?” the officer asked.

  Ricky shrugged. “It’s a big car.”

  The officer gestured to the large hole. “When did this happen?”

  “Last week,” replied Ricky.

  “One of the neighbors called and said someone had busted the garage door,” the officer said, pointing to the door lying on the driveway.

  “Yes, the gear lever sticks. I already told you that,” said Ricky.

  “And this just happened?”

  The officer was taking notes.

  “Yes, about half an hour ago,” said Ricky.

  “When were you planning to fix the gear lever?”

  Ricky didn’t respond.

  “Who was driving?” continued the officer.

  “I was,” Ricky said quickly.

  “I’m the only one that is allowed to drive Ruby,” Wacko shouted.

  Ricky turned and glared at her.

  “Have you been drinking?” the officer asked Ricky.

  “Certainly not,” he responded.

  “Then how did this happen?”

  “I told you the—”

  “The gearshift stuck,” said the officer. “If she’s the only one allowed to drive the car, why did you say you were?”

  “Oh, she’s drunk. Obviously she’s in no shape to drive.” Ricky’s tone was confident, like he had just sensibly clarified the whole issue.

  “No one drives Ruby!” Wacko shouted, stomping her feet.

  “Oh, Christ, not her!” said another officer, walking up and immediately recognizing the crazy woman.

  “You know her?” asked the officer taking notes.

  “Yeah, she’s the one that’s banned from the jail.”

  “She’s the one that exposes herself on the surveillance cameras?”

  “That’s her.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t know? I guess, write her up. But leave her here because we can’t take her in.”

  “This is nuts.”

  *

  “So she’s out driving drunk, and you aren’t going to arrest her?” asked an irate neighbor as the officers prepared to leave. “What kind of police department are you running? I demand to know!”

  “Sir, it’s kind of a delicate situation,” an officer said.

  “What the hell’s delicate about it?” the neighbor demanded. “Every time you assholes stop “me”, “I” get carted off to jail. Who does this woman think she is? I demand equality.”

  “Have you been drinking, sir?” the officer asked.

  “In the safety of my own home. You got a problem with that?”

  “Sir, I don’t have a problem,” said the officer. “Why don’t you just go home and have another drink?”

  “I demand that you take this, this drunken woman to jail! If you don’t, you’re going to hear from my lawyer!”

  “Please, sir, just go home, or I’m going to take you in.”

  “And let her go?” shouted the neighbor.

  “We can’t take her in. You don’t understand.”

  Chapter 19

  Danielle, John and Heather were on their way to Babad Bob’s so Danielle could get some money to buy a dress for the formal dinner they were attending that night.

  “But doesn’t he get crazy when you bring someone with you?” asked John.

  “Oh, don’t be such a fraidy-cat. If he gets cuckoo, just ignore him,” said Danielle.

  *

  They arrived at the house. Danielle had a key and let herself in.

  Bob was stretched out on the couch, watching a black-and-white movie on TV. An old, shabby dog was lying on his chest. He turned to see Danielle coming through the door.

  “Ah, the love of my life,” he glowed.

  Then Heather came through the door.

  “And the troubled daughter,” he said.

  When John walked through behind Heather, Bob’s face went sour. “How come you can’t ever be by yourself? You’ve always got to have one of your guy friends right behind you.” Bob sneered and turned back to the TV.

  “Oh, come on, Bob, you know John’s a writer and nothing more,” said Danielle.

  “Where’s his notepad?”

  Bob turned his head, looked at John, and then Danielle. He turned back to the TV and pulled the dog up to his face.

  “Oh, Boozer, Boozer, my lover, mu, mu, mu.” Bob kissed the dog on the mouth.

  “Oh, yuck!” said Heather.

  “Bob, what do you think you’re doing? Get that smelly old dog off the couch,” Danielle scolded him. “I sit there.”

  “Boozer is not on the couch. She’s on me, and that’s the way we like it, don’t we, Boozer?”

  Bob started kissing the dog again—every kiss he accentuated verbally. “Smooch, smooch, smooch, Boozer, a
nd we don’t care what she thinks, do we, Boozer? Smooch, smooch, smooch.”

  “I wonder what the puppies are going to look like?” said Heather, looking absolutely traumatized.

  Bob gave John a nasty stare. “I don’t want to see him at the dinner tonight.”

  “Bob,” said Danielle, “it’s none of your business who comes and who doesn’t.”

  “If he shows up, there’s going to be trouble,” he said.

  “Don’t you go ruining another party!” said Danielle. “You are so childish sometimes.”

  “I didn’t ruin last year’s dinner, that was your brother.”

  “Ricky didn’t start anything, that was you!”

  “I don’t ever want to see your brother again, and I’m serious!”

  “Aunt Wanda is in town. She might like to go?” Heather added, aiming to provoke him.

  “That woman will not be welcome there!” shrieked Bob, livid.

  Danielle gave Heather a nasty look for stirring him up.

  *

  “So, what’s loser Steve up to?” Martha asked Wanda. Wanda had just arrived, at the ranch, from her drive down and was on the porch with Martha and Danielle.

  “The same, doing nothing.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s still “looking for a job”, as usual,” said Martha.

  “Oh, no, he’s all depressed. He claims he was going to get a job at the restaurant we got thrown out of, and it’s all our fault that he can’t find work because we’ve tarnished his reputation,” Wanda explained, laughing.

  “He’s such a good-looking fellow. What went wrong?” Martha asked, shaking her head.

  “Well, duuh,” said Wanda, “he was “too” good-looking for his own good. He could get all the women he wanted, and, like, responsibility passed him by and now it’s too late.”

  “Who’s to blame? Steve, because of his looks, or all the dumb women who spoiled him, you included?”

  “That’s also Dad’s problem, Mother. That’s how he got you,” said Wanda.

  “I chose your father because of his potential. You got stuck with Steve because he could scratch the itch between your legs,” said Martha.

  Wanda laughed. “It counts!”

  “Not for me,” said Martha.

  “That’s why you can get so nasty,” said Wanda quickly. “If you have an itch, scratch it. Don’t make everyone else pay.”

  “Oooh, good one,” applauded Danielle.

  *

  “I don’t think this is such a good idea. Bob was quite animated about you two not showing up at this function,” John said, trying to stop Ricky and Wanda. They were all headed down a long hall, right for big open doors that music and loud voices were coming from.

  Two men and a woman were standing at a table to the left of the doors.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” one of the men told Ricky when he tried to walk into the party. “This is a private party.”

  Ricky tried to talk his way in. “I realize that, and I’m an invited guest, as is my sister and our friend.”

  “Sir, this is a formal event.” The man was looking at Wanda’s feet because she was wearing fuzzy, pink bedroom slippers. “You’re not exactly dressed properly.” The guy indicated Ricky’s jeans and sloppy sweat shirt. “And where are your tickets?”

  “The attire is optional, and my other sister, she’s in there,”—Ricky pointed to the ballroom—“she brought the tickets for us. We need to go in and get them.”

  Ricky started into the ballroom.

  “No way. I’m not falling for that!” The man said, stepping in front of him. “No tickets, no getting in.”

  “What’s your name?” Ricky demanded, puffing up his physique.

  “Mike,” said the man, also standing tall. He was big, just like Ricky. “Want that permanently stenciled on your forehead so you won’t ever forget me?”

  Mike was serious and Ricky retreated. Looking farther down the hall, he spotted two waiters coming through another door to the ballroom.

  “Let’s go,” Ricky said, leading them back the way they came.

  *

  They walked out the front door of the hotel, walked all the way around the building, and reentered from the rear.

  “It doesn’t smell very good here,” said John.

  “You don’t know anything, do you? This is where they dump all the garbage,” Ricky said, opening the rear service door. “Follow me,” he said, walking past the time clocks and the break room.

  John and Wanda dutifully trailed Ricky as they walked through the kitchen. The staff looked at them, wondering who they might be. Toward the front of the kitchen, next to the doors that led out to the hallway of the hotel, some serving trays were piled with hors d’oeuvres. Ricky picked up a tray, indicating that Wanda and John should do the same. The three proceeded down the hall until they came to the second, smaller door to the ballroom and walked right into the party. Once inside, Ricky put his tray on the first table he saw and headed for the crowded ballroom floor. John and Wanda followed suit.

  It took a few moments to spot the table with Babad Bob, Danielle, and the rest of their friends. Ricky headed right for them. Babad Bob spotted them coming and jumped up from his seat.

  “I don’t believe this! Who let you in here?” he shouted.

  “This isn’t a closed affair. We have as much right here as you do,” said Ricky, walking up to the table.

  Bob was irate, his face bright red. “You don’t have tickets. I know you don’t. Get out!”

  “Hey, we just came to do a little dancing. Why do you object to that?” Ricky asked, taking Wanda’s hand. “Cool your jets.”

  Ricky pulled Wanda to the dance floor.

  “Danielle, you get them out of here, now,” Bob sputtered, “or there is going to be trouble.”

  “Please, Bob, don’t start a scene,” Danielle begged. “Just leave them alone. I don’t want to be embarrassed.”

  “Then get them out of here,” Bob said as if it were the only thing that made sense.

  “Look at them!” he shouted, pointing. “This is supposed to be a formal occasion, and they’re wearing jeans. And she’s wearing slippers! How did they get in here?”

  “Just stop,” said Danielle. “Leave it alone, please.”

  “I will not.”

  “Oh, great! You’re going to ruin the party, ‘again’,” she said, throwing her arms up.

  “I’m not ruining anything, your brother and sister are . . . and him,” said Bob, pointing at John, who was standing back trying to stay out of the fracas.

  Danielle saw John and rushed over. “You asshole! What’s the meaning of this?” She was right in John’s face. “I thought we were friends?”

  “I did not think we would get in,” he tried to explain, “but your brother is amazingly sneaky.”

  “Well, you’re in now,” she said, shaking her finger at him. “Do something before this thing explodes, because Bob is not going to settle down.”

  “I think that is what Ricky and Wanda are expecting,” he said.

  “Then do something!”

  John shrugged. “What can I do? They are not going to listen to me.”

  “Make them get out!” she ordered.

  “It isn’t going to work.”

  “If someone gets hurt, I’m going to blame you.”

  Danielle poked John’s chest.

  “I did not think we would get in,” he said again, frustrated.

  “Oh no! There goes Bob! He’s going to start something right on the dance floor.”

  She ran to head him off, but it was too late.

  *

  “You get out now! You were not invited here,” Bob hollered, pushing through the last of the other dancers. He was carrying a bottle of champagne.

  “We’re just dancing, and you don’t have any right to interfere,” stated Wanda.

  Everyone around them had taken notice.

  “I want you out of here!” he demanded, grabbing Wanda’s arm and pouring the bot
tle over her head.

  Danielle grabbed Bob’s arm at the same time. He flung his arm back and pushed Danielle backwards hard. She lost her balance and landed on her butt, causing her short, black cocktail dress to ride up around her waist. The momentum was great enough to send her sliding. She came to a stop with her legs up in the air, spread wide.

  John, watching the events unfold, had quickly anticipated the embarrassing situation and grabbed a coat off the chair next to him. He flung it down between Danielle’s legs before anyone had the chance to notice.

  Ricky and Bob were squared off, eyeing each other intensely. Both were crouched in a fighting stance—a major altercation moments away. All the partygoers were watching anxiously.

  John jumped out of the crowd, rushing between the combatants. “Now, guys,” he said, holding his arms out to stop them.

  “Get out of the way, John!” shouted Ricky, closing in. “This asshole is mine!”

  “Oh yeah?” said Bob, narrowing the gap with the bottle still in his hand.

  John was caught in the middle. He looked intently at Ricky. Suddenly there was a horrendous fart. Ricky looked stunned. He shot up quickly from his combative stance and puckered his butt cheeks. Just as the sound seemed to dissipate in the hushed atmosphere, another gaseous explosion reverberated. This time Bob straightened suddenly, his expression and action similar to Ricky’s.

  “Oh, yuck!” someone yelled.

  The rest of the crowd was amazingly quiet.

  “That wasn’t me!” declared Ricky.

  “What the hell?” another bystander yelled.

  “It’s a gas attack!” someone else shouted.

  The entire party, which had anticipated a fight, broke out in raucous laughter.

  “That sounded wet!” someone else added.

  Ricky and Bob just stood there, literally the center of the joke.

  Ricky tried to regain his anger, but Wanda was holding on to his sweatshirt sleeve laughing uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face.

  Bob stood, stunned, as everyone else laughed hysterically.

  *

  The two men from the entrance table, along with two security personnel, rushed into the fray expecting to break up a fight. They stood, confused by all the laughter, not knowing what had happened. The commotion gradually died down enough for them to get some sense of what they needed to do.

  Mike, the tough guy from the entrance table, looked to Ricky. “How the hell did you get in here?”

  “It wasn’t too hard. Obviously they don’t hire the swiftest of people,” Ricky smirked, still looking to start something.

  “Get him out of here!” Mike told the security.