“Uh, hi. I was wondering if Barbie’s here. I was in the area and wanted to stop by and give my condolences. I’m an old acquaintance of Gene’s. I’m so sorry for your family’s, er, your, loss.”
“Thank you. Of course, of course. Come in.” He stood aside while holding the dog, and I caught such a strong whiff of men’s cologne that it nearly made my eyes water. “Barbie’s outside. One second, let me put the dog in the other room.”
I stood in the foyer, studying a large painting. It was of Gene and a blonde woman. I assumed it was Barbie. In the portrait, he was sitting on what looked like a gilded throne, wearing a khaki shirt and pants. There was an alligator at his feet, with its mouth fused shut with duct tape. The woman stood behind him in a low-cut white dress and big hair. Both had slightly bunched-up looks on their faces, as if the artist had told them to look serious. The result was that they both looked constipated.
It had all the class of a Velvet Elvis and I wondered why anyone would pose for a painting looking like tacky royalty. Was that a tiara? I leaned in for a better look. There was no accounting for taste.
“Hey, follow me. She’s in the pool.”
I flinched at the guy’s voice. “Thanks.”
We walked through the large house, which was decorated in what I could only describe as a poor man’s version of a rich person’s home. Everything was done up in gold and baroque, with lots of scrolls and ornaments and rich colors. I spotted the throne-like chair that I’d seen in the portrait.
The decor didn’t mesh with the views of palm trees and tropical foliage out every large window, and the effect was harsh on the eyes. Plus, it smelled overwhelmingly like coconut—not a crisp tropical smell, but something chemical and rancid, like an air freshener gone bad. I coughed.
The guy opened the back door and pointed. “Barbie! There’s a visitor.” He turned to me. “Just go on out. And help yourself to a Bloody Mary on the table. They’re pretty strong, so watch out.”
I let myself into a screened-in pool enclosure. The space was far prettier than what I’d seen inside. At one end was a tasteful sitting area with a rattan sofa, matching loveseat, and coffee table. A rattan bar stood nearby. On the other side, there was a glass table and cast-iron chairs with tropical-print pillows. A pitcher of red liquid sat nestled in a bowl of ice, and a half dozen blue glasses sat empty. An appropriate neon sign readIt’s Five O’Clock Somewhere.
My gaze landed on the pool. Barbie was in the middle, perched on a pink donut-shaped float. She wore a white bikini, and her platinum-blonde hair was piled atop her head. Oversized black sunglasses completed the look. She was quite pretty and buxom, giving off a retro Hollywood starlet vibe.
“Well, hi there,” she said in a throaty southern accent. She held a blue plastic cup with a straw in one hand, and dragged her other through the water, propelling herself toward me. “You don’t look familiar. Do I know you? Or were you one of Gene’s customers?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not that gator groupie from Tallahassee, are you?”
I stood at the edge of the pool and cleared my throat. Were women vying to sleep with wildlife trappers? The concept of a “gator groupie” made me want to puke in my mouth.
“You don’t know me. I’m Maggie Andrews. My family and I have known Gene for years, and I wanted to come by and offer my condolences. I’m so sorry for what happened. I don’t know if you realize, but I was the one who, ah, found him. It was just terrible, and I hope you’ve found a measure of peace in his absence. My dad died not long ago, so I know what it’s like to lose a loved one. You need to be tender with yourself.” I mightily fought back a nervous giggle. Sometimes if I rambled, I wouldn’t laugh. Thankfully, this was one of those times.
The rubber float bumped up against the side of the pool, and I expected her to hop out. Or start crying. Instead, she extended her arm with the glass.
“Would you be a sweetheart and pour me a refill? Grab one for yourself, too. You must try these Bloody Marys. Chad’s recipe is simply incredible.”
“Chad?” I said weakly, trying to recover from the shock of both gator groupies and Barbie not acknowledging my babbling monologue.
“The guy inside. Isn’t he a looker?” She waved the cup at me, and I bent down to grab it.
This was way weirder than I’d anticipated. Drinking with her probably would set her at ease, but it was also not even ten in the morning. I poured her drink, then gave myself a splash in a matching plastic cup. Screw it.
In Wahoo, it was always five o’clock.
I handed her the full cup. She was holding on to the edge of the pool, but as soon as she took the cup from me, she allowed herself to float away.
“Cheers.” She held up her drink and took a long sip.
I did the same, but coughed when the liquid hit my mouth. It was the spiciest Bloody Mary I’d ever tasted. It felt like I’d opened my mouth to swallow a flamethrower. “Wow, that sure has a kick to it.”
She laughed, a raspy, genuine sound. “That’s how we celebrate around here.”
“Celebrate?” I sputtered, a little of my drink leaking into my sinus cavity.
She tilted her head back, allowing the screen-filtered sun to beat on her face. That’s when I noticed she was wearing glossy red lipstick. This certainly didn’t seem like a grieving widow to me, but what did I know? I’d laughed from nerves when I helped pick out my father’s casket. Grief affected people in different ways.
“My husband’s gone, and I couldn’t be happier. He was a son of a bitch. I’m sorry if that opinion makes you uncomfortable, but it’s time I own my truth.”
My eyes widened. I’d be lying if I disagreed, but I also didn’t want to speak ill of the dead. “Oh.”
She snorted aloud. “Come on. I’ve heard of your family. I know you found him. Gene always talked about you and your sister and your dad, and how much he hated all of you. Gene was a prick, you know it and I know it. The world’s better now that he’s gone.”
“Well, he did seem rather difficult at times.” That was the best I could do without lying. I might have grown up in a trailer, but I was raised to be polite during funerals and weddings.