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It s the awful couple in 2C. I don t want them to see me.
They ll invite themselves to sit with us and never leave.
They re so boring they make my socks roll down.
Savannah peeked over the dusty ferns. She the gray-
haired lady wearing the WORLD S BEST GRANDMA T-shirt?
And he s the guy with a gut? His shirt says, SORRY YOUR GOD
IS DEAD MINE S ALIVE AND WELL.
Helen groaned. It s Fred and Ethel, all right.
You re safe, Savannah said. They can t see you behind
the planter.
But Helen could hear them. Their voices were so loud, she
felt like they were sitting in her booth. She wanted to flee, but
she couldn t leave while they were there.
They both ordered tuna-melt specials in booming voices.
We don t like bread pudding, Ethel said. Can we have rice
pudding, instead?
Sorry, ma am, the waitress said. No substitutions.
Can you take fifty cents off the price? Ethel said.
164 Elaine Viets
Nope. Can t do that, either.
Some people are so cheap, Helen whispered. Can you
believe that?
They do throw pennies around like manhole covers. Sa-
vannah took another peek over the booth top. But they ve
got their food already and they re really chowing down. It
won t be long before they re gone. I ll get us more coffee.
Just relax. It will be over soon.
That s what my dentist says.
There was a fearful scream.
Good lord, Savannah said. She looked over the fern bar-
ricade. It s Ethel. Blood is gushing from her mouth.
Helen poked her head up through the ferns. Do you think
her tuna bit her?
Ethel was moaning and holding her jaw. Blood dripped
through her fingers and onto her T-shirt.
The waitress came running over. What s the matter,
ma am? Are you hurt?
This piece of metal was in my tuna melt, Ethel said. I
bit right into it. I m cut bad.
I m taking my wife to the emergency room, Fred said.
What s your manager s name?
Mr. Wilson, the waitress said. He s in back. I ll get
him.
Fred helped Ethel up and put his arm around her. She was
dabbing at her face with a napkin, smearing the blood
around.
The manager came running over. He saw bloody Ethel
and turned the color of yesterday s oatmeal.
My wife hurt herself on a piece of metal in your food,
Fred said. Look how she s bleeding. I m not a suing kind of
man. But she needs to be stitched up and I got a four-hun-
dred-dollar deductible for my emergency room insurance.
I m sorry, sir, the manager said, wringing his hands like
an old dishrag. If you ll bring your receipt from the ER,
we ll be happy to pay the deductible.
In cash? Fred said.
DYING TO CALL YOU 165
Absolutely, the manager said. Here s my card. Just call
and we ll settle up. I hope your wife will be OK. We re so
sorry. Next time, your dinner is on us.
Ethel was still holding the bloody napkin to her mouth
and dripping dramatically. Helen saw she developed a limp
as Fred helped her out to the car. Strange. That metal had
been nowhere near her foot.
There s something funny going on, Helen said. Let s
see if they really go to the emergency room.
Savannah threw down some bills and they ran to the Tank.
Fred and Ethel didn t notice the lurching, smoke-belching
car. They went nowhere near a hospital. Instead, they drove
straight to the Coronado. When Ethel got out of the car, there
was no blood on her face. She was smiling. A blue wind-
breaker hid her bloodstained shirt.
I knew it, Helen said. She faked that injury.
They drove past, so Fred and Ethel wouldn t see they
were being followed. A half an hour later, Savannah dropped
Helen at the Coronado. The sunset had painted the sky a glo-
rious rose-pink. Wild parrots settled into the rustling palms.
The soft evening breeze was scented with chlorine and Cop-
pertone.
This was Helen s favorite time of day. A few months ago,
she would have been sitting by the pool, toasting the sunset
with white wine. Margery and Peggy would have been re-
laxing on chaise longues, Pete patrolling Peggy s shoulder
while she discussed her latest lottery scheme. Margery would
snort and smoke and ignore Pete s squawks. They would all
be laughing.
Now Peggy and Pete sulked inside. Margery was barri-
caded in her home.
Their poolside evenings had been hijacked by Cal, Fred
and Ethel. The couple claimed to be teetotalers. Helen
thought they were drunk with disapproval.
Florida was warm and accepting, more interested in com-
mitting sin than condemning it. Fred and Ethel s moral supe-
166 Elaine Viets
riority had soured too many evenings. Ha. They were noth-
ing but small-time scam artists.
Helen banged on Margery s door until the jalousie glass
rattled. Helen knew her landlady was home. Her car was in
the lot.
Margery, it s me, Helen said.
The door finally opened. Swirls of cigarette smoke poured
out. Helen choked.
Quiet. I m avoiding the pool party, Margery said.
They ve already complained twice. Fred said the chlorine
was too strong in the pool. Ethel saw a palmetto bug.
Only one? Helen said.
Even in the darkened kitchen, Helen could see Margery
was a mess. Her purple shorts were wrinkled. Her red lipstick
had crawled up into the cracks in her lips and her nail polish
was chipped. She was drinking a screwdriver that didn t even
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