the crush of motorcycles would add an hour to her usual fifteen-minute commute to work.
King Kong Golfland – Live turtles – Every item $1.00 – Papa Primera’s Pizza – Large 4 toppings $10.95 – T-shirts R Us – Free Sand Dollar (with purchase) – Myrtle Beach mugs 3 for $5 – Swimwear – Fantasia Lingerie and Novelty Shop – Where Lace and Heaven Meet – Welcome Canadians.
As if on cue, the sun broke through the clouds as Dolly turned into the parking lot next to Fantasia. She drove behind the store to the staff parking area. When she arrived, her heart nearly burst with joy. There, at the back door, stood Melissa, Shaniqua, and Harriet, each with a big grin on her face. They posed on both sides of a shiny new metal sign. It read, “Reserved For Manager.” Hand-lettered below, in flaming-red glitter nail polish, was the name, “Dolly.”
Dolly yanked the keys out of the ignition and ran to the girls. “Congratulations, Dolly,” said Melissa, giving her a big hug.
“Way to go, girl!” said Shaniqua, who kissed her on the cheek. “You deserved it.”
“You’re the best,” said Harriet, smiling, though her heart was breaking at having lost the promotion.
The foursome walked happily into the store, talking about the sudden change in management with their hands and eyes as much as with their lips.
“It’s gonna be soooo cool!” said Melissa. “Wanda was a real witch.”
“Now we’re gonna run this place right,” said Shaniqua. Dolly was in heaven. She truly liked her co-workers and had been praying that they wouldn’t be jealous.
“Ok, ladies, let’s get this show on the road,” Dolly called to the chattering women. “We’ve got shelves to stock and displays to clean. Melissa, open that case of vibrators and get ‘em priced and on the shelf.”
“Where do the vibrators go?” Melissa asked. Dolly and the other women glanced at each other and spontaneously broke into uncontrolled laughter.
With a wicked grin, Dolly asked, “You’re twenty years old and you don’t know where the vibrators go? You grow up in a convent or WHAT? Don’t they sell AA batteries in your part of town?” Melissa turned red. The other women convulsed with laughter. Dolly knew it was going to be a good day.
2. Doc Something-or-others
Fantasia Lingerie Store
The same day
By noon, the shop was clean and looking sharp. The glass door, windows, and shelves sparkled. The sex lubricants were all carefully restocked and arranged, one flavor per row. All of the X-rated dvd’s were dusted and arranged by sexual performance, specialty, or fetish. The racks were full of new fantasy lingerie, ready for all of the local clients and tourists. The peel-away dance outfits and six-inch, strobe-light heels were arranged by color and size for the local strippers, who were among the store’s biggest spenders.
Just after lunch, Shaniqua answered the phone. “Fantasia Lingerie, where lace and heaven meet. Can I help you?” Within moments, her smile evaporated and the tone of her voice dropped. “It’s her,” she called to Dolly.
Dolly didn’t have to ask who “her” was. “Hello, Mamma,” Dolly said in a sinking voice. “I just got a promotion. I run the shop now. I’m pretty busy. Can we talk after work?”
“Dolly, this is your mother talking to you,” said Anne Doolittle. “You’ll just have to take a few minutes out of your busy life and talk to me. It’s important.”
Dolly knew the tone of her mother’s voice. There was no use arguing. “OK, Mamma, what’s the subject today?” It was a perfunctory question, as both women knew from long experience.
“It’s April, Dolly. What on earth are you letting your daughter wear those crazy clothes for? Those big, black, steel-toed shoes she’s wearing belong on a construction worker, not my granddaughter. And the red shoelaces don’t make them a bit prettier. She’s seventeen years old, almost eighteen now. Why can’t you get her to wear some decent shoes?”
“The girls don’t dress like you did to go to the prom forty years ago, Mamma. A lot of women wear big, black, ugly shoes these days. Those are Doc Something-or-others. I think they look awful, but she used her own money to buy them. She told me a lot of the girls wear them.”
“And what about the long-sleeved shirts and sweater vests? Don’t girls wear blouses anymore?”
“Those are Fred Perry shirts, Mamma. April’s friends all wear them. They’re considered very stylish among her friends.”
“And the haircut? How can any girl cut half her hair down to the skin and let the rest grow? She’s always wearing some kind of cap to cover the bald top. It doesn’t make any sense. She looks like some weirdo from the wrong side of another planet.”
“It’s just fashion, Mamma. Give her a break. She’s going to be a senior in high school this fall. Remember my tie-dye days in high school? Remember the 70s, when Bobby had hair longer than mine? You didn’t seem to mind strange hairstyles on my brother. What’s the problem now with April’s?”
Anne Doolittle wasn’t done with her grilling. “She looks so sad and pale. Did you stop feeding her? Is she spending too much time at Kenny’s? I don’t like that new girlfriend of his a bit. I don’t think either one of them can cook past opening a can.”
“I feed her, and I love her. I keep a close an eye on her, Mamma, but I can’t run a prison. I don’t like Kenny’s lifestyle or choice of friends any more than you do, but April wants to see her father, and he has joint custody.”
“I don’t see why you let her go over there at all,” Anne said. “Kenny hasn’t improved a bit since they arrested him for the marijuana thing ten years ago.”
“April lives mostly with me now, Mamma. I don’t let her go over there without permission, but I have to stay legal with the joint custody order. Yes, Mamma, he’s a jerk, but Kenny is April’s father, and she wants him to love her.”
“What about food? She’s thin as a rail. Don’t you ever feed her?”
“You know darn well I feed her, but she just doesn’t want to eat much, and I can’t put a funnel down her throat. And anyway, I was a little scrawny when I was her age, remember? I wanted to look like Barbie.”
“What about her skin? Doesn’t she ever go out in the sun?”
Dolly was losing her patience. “Yes, she goes out sometimes. But the girls don’t wear a lot of makeup like they did when I was growing up, Mamma.”
Dolly was happy to hear the doorbell ring as a middle-aged couple walked into the store. She knew that her mother could hear it, and the sound of business relieved her of the guilt she felt at cutting her mother off. “Look, Mamma, I have customers. I gotta go.”
“You can take care of them, but what about visiting us once in a while?” Dolly gritted her teeth. Mamma, you’re not getting my vote for Mother of the Year, either, she thought. “I gotta go now, Mamma. Say hi to Henry for me.”
“Why don’t you come by on Sunday, Honey?”
