Jaxson's Song Page 16
“In my purse.” Gran’s chewing gum shot out the passenger side window.
“Why?” Ginger dragged the question out, holding onto her fragile sense of control and fervently denying the headache that was beginning to form.
“It was too hot in that store.”
“What store?”
“K-mart; where else? All that money, you’d think they could afford some decent air conditioning. Terrible.”
“We didn’t go to K-mart today.”
“Oh. Well, then it must have been the Petco. Yes, that’s it, I left it in the Petco.”
“You left it BEHIND?!” The screech earned a glare from the old woman.
“So what if I did?”
“But you just said it was in your purse. Now you’re telling me you left it in the Petco store.” Dear Lord...
“That’s right. Don’t you judge me, missy. I was wearing a bra before you were born, unlike that no-account mama of yours. I’m eighty years old. If I want to take the damn thing off, I should be able to do so without having to endure lip from a little Miss Sassy Pants.”
“Mama’s not so bad...” Ginger uttered wearily. Dear God, she left it in the Petco...
“Not so bad, HA!”
“Let’s not do this. The pharmacy is about to close. If you want to finish your shopping, we have to do it now.” Again, she cursed her too candid observation. If Gran was worked up and on a rant, she would likely forget about the last of her shopping, providing for a tiresome but less dramatic afternoon. Too late now...
“Your mother was the bane of my existence.”
Then again, maybe not. “You talk about her as if she were dead.”
“She is dead—to me. I have nothing to say to her. And I never will.” The old woman stuck her chin out and did her best to look mutinous.
“Fine.”
“Now take me to Walgreens. I don’t care what that weeny with the tie said. I’ll shop there whenever I feel like it. They probably forgot all about that incident by now anyway.”
“The weeny in a tie is a civil court judge and they still have your picture up. You go to the CVS or you go home. Your pick.”
“You’re a terrible girl, Ginger. Terrible.”
“What’s it going to be?” She glared right back, waiting.
“Let’s go. I need a couple of things.”
“Did you make a list?”
“Don’t need to. I’ll remember.”
“Right. Let’s get at it then.” Last stop, hallelujah. Ginger breezed through the automatic doors ahead of Gran, feeling strong. I can do this. Thirty minutes, tops. I’m in the final stretch and soon I’ll be home, where at least the lunatics make some sense.
Twenty minutes later, her resolve was fading fast. Might have had something to do with dear old Gran asking an unsuspecting sales clerk where they kept the tampons.
“What are you doing?” Ginger all but hissed. “What on Earth do you want with Tampax? You don’t need those.”
“I most certainly DO need them.” She drew herself up to her full five feet, four inches.
Tampons... As sure as she was that she didn’t want to have this conversation, she grudgingly admitted that unfortunately it was necessary to discover just what in the hell Gran wanted with the extra-large box of Kotex clutched in her gnarled hand.
“Please put that down.” Ginger felt her face burn with a heat she hoped wasn’t painfully obvious. Did the old woman have to be so embarrassing? Ginger suppressed a groan as a list of possible uses for the sanitary product came to mind.
“What could you possibly want with a box of tampons?” Ginger cried, ignoring the whispering and snickers from passers-by.
“My period is coming, if you must know.”
“Your period… Oh for the love of God. Fine, take your tampons and let’s go.”
Face still aflame, she turned toward the checkout counter, giving serious thought to making a run for it. Gran could no longer outrun her, could she...? Best not to chance it though, Ginger decided before she could attempt to make good on the panicky impulse. As much as the whole family would have sympathized—because surely they had all longed to do the same thing at one time or another—Ginger was sure she would never hear the end of it if she actually abandoned the old woman.
She could see it now. ’Lost Grandma found roaming the streets of greater Atlanta with a box of Kotex and a vacant smile. If you have any information regarding this woman…’ Jesus. It would probably be on the evening news.
The middle-aged woman in the too-tight jeans and rhinestone cowboy boots came seemingly out of nowhere, bumping into Gran with stunning force, effectively knocking her off balance. She collided with Ginger, who in turn crashed into the display shelf to her left. Tampax and Maxi-Pads flew six feet in every direction. Ginger couldn’t decide which hurt worse—the tattered remains of her pride or the maxi-pad box embedded into her left arm.
“Gran...?”
“I’m okay,” she replied, with just a hint of a tremor in her voice.
“God...!”
“God didn’t have anything to do with it, child. It was the cheap floozy over there.”
“Over where?” Ginger asked, pulling her protesting body from the bed of sanitary napkins and turning to stare where Gran was pointing one sharp-tipped hot pink fingernail. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The floozy in question had stepped over the whole mess and was now at the checkout, one heavily ringed claw tapping impatiently at her slim hip.
“I would hate to see that one’s mother. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree you know. I never did see anything so rude... Ginger? Ginger where do you think you’re going?”
But Ginger was already half way to register number three with a spring in her step and a spark in her eye that clearly said she meant business.
“Hey.”
“What?” The overblown brunette spared the flame haired sprite a single bored-looking backward glance before returning her attention to the cashier.
“What? That’s what you have to say for yourself? You almost knock an old lady to the ground—you do knock me to the ground—in a pile of tampons—and all you have to say is ‘what’?”
“You were in my way.”
“Oh yeah?” Ginger lips curled into something that barely resembled a smile.
“Ginger, don’t,” Gran ordered as she caught up to the pair.
“Well right now you’re in my way,” Ginger announced a split second before giving the brunette a well-placed two-handed shove.
Loose change tinkered as it spewed across faded linoleum. A man’s voice boomed a protest in the background.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Adam?” Ginger turned to face her newest ex-boyfriend, barely taking note of the livid anger in his tone and stance.
“What was that for? Leave her alone. Now,” he commanded in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Adam...” Her eyes skimmed over his denim and black clad form with contempt, “...the very person I didn’t want to see. Why don’t you mind your own business? That woman—“
“You will apologize to that woman. God, have you gone completely around the bend?”
“Around the...” she sputtered, seeing red. Suddenly, it all made sense. “So this, this...tramp is the reason you broke it off, then. I figured there was something going on. You stop calling, I catch you lying about where you’ve been, and now you’re out with little Miss Alligator Skin over there not three days after dropping me like yesterday’s news. Well you can go to hell, Adam.”
“Ginger let’s go,” Gran ordered.
“Not yet. I’ve got something else to say to the cheater.”
“You need to shut your mouth before you create a scene and get yourself in trouble. Let’s go.”
“Adam, I’ve got one question for you.”
When he raised one eyebrow, she continued on in a voice that was deadly calm. “Don’t you think she’s a little old for you?”
“I’ll show you OLD!”
Ginger heard the woman’s angry words an instant before she felt the surprisingly heavy weight of the floozy slam into her from behind.
The woman was fast, but Ginger was indignant and very, very determined. Of course, that didn’t work in her favor when she was pulled off the broad by two armed guards less than three minutes later. Both women were separated until the police came to deal with the situation.
Gran was surprisingly calm throughout the rest of the ordeal. Adam, if anything, became even angrier than before.
Ginger felt the blood drain from her face when she heard him tell the officer behind her that his ‘crazy ex-girlfriend’ had flown into a jealous rage, attacking his Aunt Claudia for no apparent reason.
“I had a very good reason!”
“I’m not going to tell you again—be quiet.” the uniform beside her scowled.
“Wait.” She twisted around to gape at Adam. “Your aunt?”
“Give it up Ginger.” he shot back.
“But...”
“Book her.” The order came from the second uniform.
“Ginger Malhaven, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”
* * *
“To the charge of third degree assault and battery, how do you plead?”
“Guilty.” Ginger mumbled, facing the judge and humiliated to the depths of her soul. Humiliated and very, very scared... Although she had made a half-hearted show of being brave through most of the court proceedings, she dropped all pretenses now and sought her brother in the crowd.
Their eyes met and he gave her a little nod. Swallowing past the metallic feeling that flooded her mouth, she nodded back and gripped the metal edge of the table, unconsciously leaning toward her lawyer and wishing like hell she could just sit down before she collapsed.
“Since this is your first offense, and you’re a minor, I’m allowing a reduced sentence.”
“Sentence?” Ginger croaked, stricken. She was going to prison. She was in high school and she was going to prison.
“It is the order of this court that custody of Ginger Malhaven be revoked from her brother, Christopher Malhaven. Custody is hereby granted to Ms. Malhaven’s maternal aunt, Candace Avila and her husband Ramon Avila, effective immediately. It is also the order of this court that Ms. Malhaven be placed in an appropriate court-appointed therapy program for no less than one year. She will also receive four years of probation and credit for time served.”
“I’m not going to prison?” Ginger whispered to the defense attorney at her side.
“Prison? No. You’re going to Montana.”
Gingers eyes settled first on her brother’s shattered expression, then on the stern faces of her aunt and uncle.
“Close enough,” she sighed.
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