Melvina Banks was put down by vanity—literally.
She’d flipped her hair down, then up, while blow-drying herself into a heated frenzy. As a result, she lay on the cold tile of her bathroom, moaning in pain. That last toss and swish was her back’s final undoing. Tucked into flesh-colored Spanks, she lay on the teal-and-white-checked floor. Small bullets of sweat beaded on her freshly painted face.
Hell, there goes my makeup.
Patting her hands on the floor around her, she searched for her cell phone. Hoping she’d knocked it from the corner of the sink in her fall from grace, she winced as another spasm shot through her lower back. Then she remembered it was in her bedroom on the bed. Probably lost beneath the mound of clothes she’d plucked from her closet while trying to decide what to wear.
If I die here, they’ll eventually discover my lifeless form gripping my roller brush for all eternity.
She wished she’d accepted Mona’s invitation to set her up on a blind date. At least the poor fellow, whoever he was, would be able to hear her scream from outside and call for help.
Instead, she had shaken her head, saying she didn’t need the additional complication in her life. Besides, sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk while he silently judged if she were worthy enough for him to pay for her dinner, was not Melvina’s idea of a romantic night out.
She’d had enough of those dates in her twenties and thirties to know they never turned out great. She usually ended up paying for her own meal and sometimes her date’s dinner as well. She was embarrassed to admit she was left with the check more than once.
Melvina tried to push herself up from the cool floor and gasped as a lightning bolt of pain shot along her spine and down to her hip. She was due at the Magnolia Ladies dinner in twenty minutes, and it took fifteen minutes to drive to town. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to miss a Magnolia Blossom Ladies League dinner, but she had a role in the actual event. She was meant to introduce Cecilia Lockwood, reigning president, so that Cecilia could then introduce their esteemed guest for the annual fundraiser.
This year’s proceeds were allocated to the construction of another fire station in the growing community of Magnolia, a blossoming suburb of Houston. The guest speaker would be none other than Riley James Nash, renowned chef and area native, recently making his big splash on the Food Network. He was the owner and head chef of Braised, the hottest new restaurant in Houston, and there were rumors two other locations were opening in New York and San Francisco.
Ah, to be a Food Network star….
If that happened, she would be able to open her dream cupcake shop, maybe even expand to other places. On many occasions, she’d imagined building a cupcake mini-empire, including big cities like San Francisco. She’d flown there once for a cupcake convention and had fallen in love with the small town of Half Moon Bay. With a population of only ten thousand residents, Half Moon Bay was more her speed than San Francisco proper. But the folks who visited the small coastal town on the weekends would provide plenty of business for her booming imaginary bakery.
Unfortunately, she would never own her own business if she couldn’t make the right connections and get someone to back her dream. A dream that wouldn’t materialize if she didn’t get off the floor and make it to that dinner. Riley Nash could very well be her lucky lotto ticket to owning her own bakery.
She placed her hand on the white cabinet door and slid herself across the tiles, squeaking again with pain. Putting both of her heels as close to her buttocks as possible, she pushed hard with a heaving grunt and then repeated the motion several times until she’d slid herself into the bedroom to the foot of her bed. Reaching up, she fumbled her hand around on the mattress and tugged. A mound of clothes showered her, and a button on one of the dresses tangled in her freshly brushed, long blonde hair. She tried to swim free of the many layers of fabric, blowing out her breath hard when a scarf floated over her face.
“Ow,” she complained, finding the loop in her hair to release the oversized button. The sultry beat of the old but catchy Junk in the Trunk, by The Black Eyed Peas, blared from above, taunting her rather curvy rump, currently stuck on the bedroom floor. Melvina had chuckled when her friend, Mona Calhoun, had downloaded the tune onto her cellphone the last time they had cocktails at Bubbles.
Melvina imagined her skinny, small-bottomed friend wiggling around on her own front porch, centered in the middle of High Valley Estates Golf Community. Mona was a trust fund baby who was still spoiled rotten at the age of forty-one and was one of the first people who’d bought in the elite new housing community.
Some of the stauncher neighbors had complained about Mona’s lively paint choices for her mini-mansion and the amount of time she sipped margaritas while watching Louis, the lawn guy, trim the hedges. More than likely, the residents were upset about the laughter coming from inside Mona’s house after the lawn work was finished. Louis was a twenty-something attractive Latino and Mona was almost twenty years his senior…but age never stopped Mona.
She often bragged about her cougar status, telling anyone who’d listen, “As long as they’re of legal age, handsome is handsome.” Right along with, “What’s good for the goose….”
Magnolia, Texas, had seen a lot of recent growth. Houston’s high-flying oil tycoons had bought up land and built new housing developments for the increased population. New immigrants and people around the country were flocking to the beautiful area daily. The sudden growth was the reason Melvina wanted to open her own bakery. This was the time, and it was now or never.
“Damn it.” Melvina swiped at the mattress, pulling the quilt and its entire contents down on her head. Her cat yowled as it flew through the air, landing on Melvina’s tummy. Melvina’s answering yowl echoed around the room as Leo dug his claws into her soft flesh, using it as a springboard to skedaddle to safety. Wincing with pain from the scratch marks she knew she would sport for a week, Melvina sifted through the pile of discarded dresses until she found her smart phone. Of course, it was Mona trying to video chat with her. She groaned and slid her finger over the glass screen. They had been friends since the first grade, so fortunately or unfortunately, Mona had seen much worse when it came to Melvina.
“What are you doing?” Mona’s lips made a wide oh, resembling the goldfish in Melvina’s turtle tank. The heavy red lip liner accentuated the minimal flesh, making her lips appear puffier than they were, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Mona had been dubbed Skinny Lips in high school by Martin Holley, the captain of the basketball team, and she had been self-conscious of their minimal contours ever since.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Melvina huffed out, frustrated at her incapacitated state.
Mona’s brows twitched, but her forehead remained smooth thanks to her regular trips to her cosmetic surgeon for Botox injections. “Do you know what time it is? The dinner is in fifteen minutes.”
“I know, I know—” Melvina took a deep breath and tried to sit up. Groaning again, she slumped back to the floor. “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?” Mona fretted.
“My back!” Melvina moaned again.
“Okay, okay, I’m on my way.”
The phone screen danced around, flashing images of jangling car keys, doors opening and closing, Louis’s bronzed, shirtless figure as he trimmed the hedges, Mrs. Parker’s disapproving stance from across the street, the sunset over the golf course, and Mona’s fancy, hot pink pumps.
“Wait!” Melvina called out. “I need you to go to the dinner without me and introduce Celia. I’ll be there eventually, but I won’t be there in time.” Melvina paused while Mona started her tirade of why this wouldn’t do and insisted on coming to help.
“I’m going to call Pop,” Melvina said. “He’ll send Eli over to help me up.
“Are you sure?” Mona asked. “I can be there in five minutes.”
“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” Melvina assured her friend. “My back is a little tweaked, but once I get up and take an ibuprofen, it will all be okay.”
I hope.
“Alright, but if you don’t show up in thirty minutes, I’m sending out the fire department, and you know I will. Most of them will be at the dinner and Manny would just love to help you, I’m sure.”
“Don’t you say anything, Mona or I’ll dig out the yearbook!”
Mona gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“I would!” Melvina declared. The eighth-grade yearbook featured a thirteen-year-old Mona with a mouth full of metal braces and an acne breakout that rivaled Mount Vesuvius. “I swear to God, I will print it in the ‘Ladies Journal’ next month,” she warned.
Manny Owens was Melvina’s secret crush for just about most of her life. He was now the chief of the Magnolia Fire Department and a widower since his wife died two years ago. Melvina knew she didn’t stand a chance with the hottest bachelor in town, and everyone knew Cecilia had dibs on him anyway. They weren’t an item yet, but Celia had earmarked him for her personal use, and every woman in the county who wanted to keep her hair knew it.
“You don’t fight fair,” was all Melvina heard before Mona hung up. She sighed with relief and blew at a stray lock of hair that lapped across her forehead.
Thank God I can at least stand up to Mona.
