“Sheila?”

Sheila stiffened. She turned to see a woman running towards her, bleach-blonde hair stiff with hairspray, circa 1992. She was wearing a faux-fur coat (in Mid-July!) that was flapping with each swift step she took. Her lips were a bright red smear. Sheila could see a few of the store’s patrons watching, eyes wide in amazement. Even here, in hillbilly hell where you see all kinds, Stephanie was something to see.

She stopped right in front of Sheila, and smiled. Lipstick was on her teeth, coloring them a weird shade of dark pink. “Darling, I haven’t seen you since..” she floundered. Not surprising. If Sheila lit a match right now, Steph’s head might explode from all the alcoholic fumes wafting from her mouth. It wasn’t even ten in the morning.

“Yeah. Since you showed up in court. Remember? On his side.”

She then reached out and gave a solid smack across Stephanie’s face. Sheila’s palm sang as Stephanie’s cheek turned a slightly darker shade of red. It hurt, but it was worth it. It didn’t seem to phase Stephanie much – the morning nips probably dulled the pain. Her eyes widened as she held her cheek, her charade dropped for only a moment.

“What the…”

“You know what it was for.”

Sheila turned, walking away, not wasting any more breath. She got two steps before tripping. She looked down, and saw red-tipped nails around her ankle. Then she saw Stephanie’s face. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

Oh, my God. She’s actually thrown herself at my feet.

“I’m so SORRY!” she wailed. Now everyone was looking. Holy Christ. “Pleeeeeeeease!”

Sheila kicked her foot free. She took a moment to look into her shopping cart. Nothing really important there. Before Stephanie could get another lock on her, she was out the door.