Page 60 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

None of

that is even half as good as the blue cell phone and matching charger I pull out next. It’s an iPhone. The same iPhone model I had last May, too. Perfect, no learning curve.

I plug it in next to the bed and wait for the phone to charge. It seems to take forever until the Apple logo fills the screen, followed by a selfie of Edie and Magnus. He’s licking her cheek instead of snapping at the air. I hold it up long enough for it to recognize my face, and all her apps pop up.

It’s eight thirty in Michigan, but it’s six thirty in west Texas. The Do or Dye closes at seven. My heart races as I open the phone icon and touch the ten numbers that I’ve waited over five long months to dial. I can hardly hear the ringing over the pounding in my ears, then… “It’s a fabulous hair day at Do or Dye. What can I do you for?” It’s Lorna, and I never thought I’d be so happy to hear her voice.

“May I speak with Carla Jean?” I take a deep breath and let it out, and I feel like I might die. What am I going to say? I didn’t think of that.

“She’s not here, sugar. Can someone else help you?”

“No.” I didn’t think of that either. Momma always works Tuesdays till close. “When will she be back?”

“She’s on vacation.”

Vacation? I always have to drag Momma kicking and screaming on a vacation. “Where?”

“Of course, that’s private information.”

Lorna picks now to worry about anyone’s privacy? There isn’t a secret north of the Rio Grande that she hasn’t told.

“I can give her a message for you if you want.”

“No, thank you, ma’am.” I hang up and dial Momma’s cell, which I would have done in the first place if she wasn’t notorious for losing it in the depths of her “Love Is in the Hair” tote bag.

“Hello, this is Carla Jean.” It’s been five long months since I last heard my momma’s voice. Tears fill my eyes and clog my throat. I open my mouth to say hello, but nothing comes out.

“Is anyone there?”

“It’s me,” comes out in a whispery sob. “I miss you.”

“Is this a prank call?” She puts her hand over the phone and talks to someone else. Then she says, “I’m goin’ to hang up. Please don’t call again.”

“Wait!” She doesn’t disconnect, but I have to think fast of something that will keep her talking. I clear my throat and say, “I’m with the Publishers Clearin’ House.”

“Lord love a duck!”

“Your entry has been chosen in the final round for our super prize.”

“Pudge! Pudge! I’m in the runnin’ for a super prize. I don’t recall enterin’ but I’m in the final round. Praise Jesus!”

Pudge? Daddy? Sure enough, I hear him in the background. “Well, Carla Jean, if you don’t remember enterin’ it’s likely a scam.”

“Is this a scam?”

“No.”

“Honey, hang up and call the FBI.”

“You don’t have to enter to win!”

“I have to go now.” Click. For the first time in my life, Momma actually listened to Daddy.

“Wait, what are you doin’ on vacation with Pudge?” I say to the black screen. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or just sit here, staring at the phone, stunned and feeling like a mule kicked the wind out of me. Where’s Floozy Face? I hit the message icon, but I can’t exactly ask what in the heck is up with her and Daddy. I should write down what I want to say so I don’t get so flustered next time. While I give it some thought, I notice that Edie’s last text was sent to someone named Wicky. I open it and land on:

Hey, handsome, when is your plane arriving?

I have a feeling this is going to be good, and so I scroll up as far as possible.