Read The Wilder Sisters for Free Online Page B

uniforms, her pantyhose were causing rivers of sweat to run down her thighs. And her crotch—well, didn’t that feel like the loneliest rainforest on the whole spinning planet? She looked at her calves and noticed a run creeping upward. She had frozen her pantyhose, soaked them instead of washing them, dripped them dry all over her damn bathroom, but from costly Anne Klein to supermarket L’eggs there wasn’t a brand that lasted more than twenty-four hours. They really should market the evil things as a single-use, disposable item. She wanted to strip them off and throw them in the creek that ran alongside the bar, but that would be unfair to the little bit of natural water Califor- nia had left to offer.

    At home she sat on the couch hugging Buddy Guy, ignoring the jingling telephone. She had turned the answering machine way down, so whoever kept calling was reduced to a whisper. Probably telemarketers. They were relentless in their pursuit to get her to subscribe to the Orange County Register . Like a silver charm fallen off a bracelet, she fingered the key Blaise had left on the counter. She left her mail unopened; it was all bills, anyway. The sun descen- ded in a blaze of orange and violet she knew was due to smog. Lily’s own private term for California sunsets was the “southern lights.” Maybe food would

    help, she thought, and nuked a Lean Cuisine penne dinner. She took one sniff, gagged, and fed it to Buddy. She poured herself a glass of costly Merlot, which after one sip, tasted sour. “Good” wine versus ordinary wine was like comparing racehorse manure to that of an old nag; call it what you want, it was still the same old caca .
    Summer was definitely not fireplace weather, but had that ever stopped the Wilders from enjoying a meditative blaze? She didn’t have any of those Duralogs, however. Struck by an idea, she ran around the condo gathering up her pantyhose. Buddy, certain this was a new game, ran alongside her. When she had them all in hand, and was sure there were no more hiding in drawers or the hamper, she took them outside and deposited them in the barbecue. She lit a match and threw it in. In a whoosh that singed her eyebrows and caused her to crow-hop backwards, the stockings ignited. The flames leapt up, caught a drooping palm leaf, and raced up it. Lily clapped a hand over her mouth as the fiery frond bent under its own weight and touched the wooden shingle roof of her condo. She couldn’t bear two disasters in one single day, so she punched 911 on her cordless and waited for the firemen.

    Being handsome and growing a mustache seemed like requirements for the firefighting profession. The four men who answered her call extinguished the flames rather quickly, and the cute red-haired one issued Lily a ticket for burning trash without a permit.
    He took her aside. “Miss?”
    “You don’t have to say it again. I know it was a reckless thing to do.” She waved the citation. “I have my ticket here to remind me.” In the background Buddy Guy yipped and scratched behind the garage door.
    The fireman smiled and touched the corners of his mustache. “I’m glad no significant harm was done. I was wondering if you might want to go out sometime, have a drink with me or something.”
    He was ten years too young for her, handsome beyond his poten- tial for intellect, and all she wanted to do was throw him down on her bed and screw her way out of this miserable day. But there was Buddy to think of, and she thought maybe she should allow at least a week to elapse between boyfriends. “Thanks, but maybe in another lifetime. These days I hardly ever get thirsty.”

    “Too bad. See you around?” Lily hoped not.

    Around midnight she got up out of bed, hungry, opened the refri- gerator, and studied its contents. The Tupperware container her sister had given her one Christmas was half full of the posole she’d made for Blaise last week. When Lily popped the lid, a fierce stench met her nose.