From War Wives Poker Club, here's the prologue:
It was Wednesday evening and the weekly meeting of the War Wives Poker Club had been called to order: “Ladies, the game is five-card draw, jacks wild. Place your bets.”
“Anybody got a light?” Olive asked, a Lucky Strike dangling from her long fingers. “I lost my matches somewhere.”
“Did you look under the table?”
Olive got down on her hands and knees to search. “Nope, no matches, but there's an ace of spades sitting right below Maxie's chair. How do you suppose that got there?”
“It's not mine!” Maxie protested. “Somebody else must have dropped it.”
“
Yeah, and the moon is made of green cheese.”
“Maybe it's still there from last week.” Maxie did her best to look innocent.
“Are you implying I haven't done any housework lately?” Phoebe gave a hearty laugh. “Actually, you could be right about that.”
“See, I told you so,” Maxie said. She stuck her tongue out at Olive.
“Any chance we can get this game underway, or are we just going to sit around and argue about who lost what?” Darlene impatiently shuffled the cards for a fourth time.
“Oh geeze. I forgot all about my hostess duties,” Phoebe said, jumping up. “Who wants wine or a beer before we get started?”
“Anybody got a lighter?”
Darlene laid down the deck with a long sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ladies, let me know when you're finally ready to play poker.”
The women around the round table ranged in age from twenty-six to forty-three. They had one particular thing in common: their husbands were in the military and stationed overseas. Some had kids to raise alone and others had both children and elderly parents to care for. The Second World War had been dragging on for nearly two-and-a-half years. They came to the War Wives Poker Club to let off steam, commiserate, and maybe win a hand or two.
Oh, and it was also a good place to catch up on gossip.
“Where's Harriet?” one player asked “She's always shows up.”
“It got to the point she couldn't deal with those four boys of hers by herself. So she left last week to stay with family in Ohio.”
“And what about Kitty?”
“Well, she never liked Nebraska very much. Only reason she came was because of her husband. My impression is he loved his mother more than he loved her. Once the war started and he shipped out, Kitty was stuck with the old lady. On Sunday they had their final battle, and Kitty said good-by to Creston. Can't say as I blame her under the circumstances.”
“Anyone want to play poker?” Darlene asked hopefully. She shuffled the cards for a fifth time.
“Maybe it’s time we recruited some new members,” Phoebe suggested, plopping a large glass bowl of pretzels on the table.
“Got any ideas?”
“New blood would be good...somebody who doesn't play poker all that well. I'd like to win a hand once in a while.”
“How about Kathleen Hadley?” Maxie suggested. “She and her sister Polly are really nice.”
“Kathleen has her hands full running that hardware store. And her crazy father-in-law doesn't make it any easier. I bet she'd enjoy a night out with the girls.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“It’s hard to think of Polly Flanigan playing poker. She's always been the shy one of the two. Teaching third grade seems to suit her best. But you never know. There could be a card shark lurking inside there someplace.”
“One thing we don't need is a card shark.”
“Then Polly would be perfect.”“Is she even a war wife? Polly's not married.”
“Why don't we call her a semi-war wife? After all, she's going to be married soon. And we could use the beans.”
Maxine reached for the pretzels. “I move we invite Kathleen and Polly to join the War Wives.”
“I move you stop hogging the pretzels and give the rest of us a chance.”
“I second that,” Edna said, grabbing for the bowl.
“Found my matches!” Olive cried triumphantly. She lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke into the air.
“Is that it? Are we finally ready to play cards?” Darlene gave the players another suspicious look.
After a moment she pushed up her sleeves. “Okay then. As I was saying, the game is five card draw, jacks wild.”
****
Hi, here's how Ladies Night Out begins. I hope you enjoy reading it and that you'll want to know more:
Chapter One
Rita Lee Taylor felt like she had a wad of sandpaper stuck in her throat. There was a gritty scratch when she swallowed, and an alarming catch made breathing difficult. She tried to take a deep breath, but stale air in the overheated meeting room only made things worse.
Stop it! Rita sternly ordered herself. There is no reason to get this stressed. You’ve known everybody up there for years. You’re not going to die. You will not even faint.
Speaking before a crowd, even a small one, wasn’t easy. One at a time in the Beauty Mark Rita Lee did just fine. But she totally understood why public speaking was the number one fear people reported, way ahead of death and injury.
You’re on a mission, Rita reminded herself. It’s okay to sound stupid, as long as the community center board gives its approval. Just think of them as heads of hair.
She visualized chairman Ray Caru’s unmanageable cowlick, and the bald spot hidden under Gene Closser’s baseball cap. Gracie Melmont always complained about the shampoo so she didn’t have to leave a tip. Louise Peterson secretly permed the curls she claimed were natural.
Thinking of them in that way helped Rita relax a little, but the palms of her hands remained clammy.
“That’s it for old business, is there any new business?” chairman Ray Caru asked, gazing around the almost empty room at the Hobart Junction Community Center.
Just four of seven board members were on hand for the monthly meeting, and Gene Closser, sitting down at the end of the table, looked like he might be asleep. The only other person in attendance, Irene Slump, was sitting in her usual seat in the last row, furiously taking notes and muttering to herself.
“Ray, I have some new business.” Rita Lee croaked, slowly rising from a metal folding chair that made an embarrassing thunk as she got to her feet. Despite the gravel in her throat, Rita Lee did her best to sound confident and in control.
“I’m here representing the volunteer fire department.” She took a second to clear her throat.
“We’ve been trying for years to get enough money together to buy a decent camcorder and a DVD player, so we can watch training films and video ourselves during practice drills. But every time we think we’ve got it covered, something else breaks down.
“Tax funds barely cover the cost of maintaining the vehicles. There’s never enough money to buy anything extra. We’ve tried bake sales and raffles. What the department really needs is a blockbuster fundraiser. And I think we’ve found it.”
Rita Lee paused to be sure she had the board’s full attention.
Louise Peterson, sitting next to Gene Closser, gave him a poke with her elbow.
“I’m listening,” Gene protested, eyes snapping open. “The fire department is tired of holding bake sales. Rita Lee wants to do something different. Tell us about it, honey.”
Bald spot, Rita Lee reminded herself as she tried again to clear her throat. “We want to put on a show, and I’m here to ask the board for your okay to use the community center stage.”
“Sounds fine to me,” said Ray Caru. “What are you planning to do? Put on a talent contest or something?
“Not exactly,” Rita Lee replied. “We’ve contacted a group in Chicago that puts on a male dance review. These guys have played Las Vegas and are really well known. They’re called the Top Cats. There’s a master of ceremonies and six dancers. They’re like the Chippendales, if you’ve ever heard of them.”
“Did I hear right?” gasped Gracie Melmont. “You want to have men taking off their clothes in our community center?”
“I’m not sure I’d put it exactly that way, but, yes, that’s what we want to do. I’ve been talking this over with my customers at the Beauty Mark, and every woman I’ve spoken to says she’ll buy a ticket. If we charge ten dollars apiece and three hundred people show up, that’s three thousand dollars. Subtract the Top Cats’ fee, and the volunteer fire department makes at least twenty-one hundred dollars just on ticket sales.”
“That certainly sounds good to me, dear,” Louise Peterson said. “I move we let the volunteer fire department use the community center for the show. Where do I buy a ticket, Rita Lee?”
“Over my dead body,” roared Gracie Melmont. A flush moved up her neck and throbbed in her plump jowls. “What are you people thinking? Kids roller skate in the gym on Friday nights. Do you want children roller skating in the same room where men take off their clothes in front of nasty-minded women?”
“Now wait a minute,” Rita Lee objected, all her fear of public speaking buried by indignation. “I resent you calling us nasty-minded. This is a legitimate fundraiser. It’s a show for adults who can make up their own minds whether they want to come. All the kids have to do is turn on their TV sets to see worst shows than this.”
At the back of the room Irene Slump flipped a page in her spiral notebook and shook out her cramped writing hand. “Lord help us,” she snorted.
“We have family values in Hobart Junction,” Gracie declared. “The reputation of the town and the community center is at stake. Think what people will say. They’ll cancel their memberships. They’ll stop supporting us with donations. The community center can’t be part of anything like this.”
Rita Lee watched Ray Caru eyes wander first toward her and then to Gracie. She could almost see the wheels turning in his brain.
Both women had valid points. He was sure the ladies would enjoy the show, and the fire department certainly needed the money. On the other hand, he didn’t want to jeopardize the center’s reputation, and he definitely didn’t want to cross Gracie Melmont. That woman could be hell on wheels when she got her back up.
Rita Lee took a step forward. “May I say one more thing? When I came up with the idea, I didn’t think anyone would object to a group of grown women having a little innocent fun. The last thing I want to do is hurt the reputation of the fire department or the community center. If you think this is not a good idea, I’ll call the Top Cats and cancel the show.”
“The sooner, the better!” Gracie shot back.
Ray glared darkly in Gracie’s direction. “One point, which I was going to make before Gracie interrupted, is that three board members aren’t here tonight. This is a complicated issue, and everybody on the board should be part of the decision.”
“Exactly!” Gracie’s voice rolled out over the meeting room like Reverend Goss on Sunday morning. “We’ll just see how people feel about nudity and perversion in our community center.”
“Let’s put off the vote until next month’s meeting,” Gene suggested. “At that time all board members have got to show up, no excuses accepted.”
After a unanimous vote to delay the decision, Rita Lee thanked the board members for their time and turned to leave. As she passed Irene Slump, she heard a low, nasty hiss.
Oh my, what have I gotten myself into now? Rita Lee wondered with growing dismay as the meeting room door banged closed behind her.
When Ray Caru arrived at his home on Lincoln Street not long afterwards, his wife Betty was waiting at the door, a cocktail in hand. “Here,” she said, taking his jacket and handing him the drink. “I think you’re going to need this.”
“Not a good sign,” Ray groaned. “Did the dog dig up Mrs. Ostell’s daffodils again?”
“Worse than that. I just got a phone call from Marge Overstreet. She said she heard you voted to allow perversion at the community center.”
“Where did she hear that? We just got out of the meeting five minutes ago.”
“Marge heard it from Estelle Conroy. Estelle heard it from Gloria Spilling. Gloria heard it from Joe Junior. Marge’s story is that Joe Junior was walking by the meeting room after his violin lesson and heard Gracie Melmont shout something about a pervert vote.”
Betty hung Ray’s jacket in the closet and turned back to her husband with a questioning look. “What kind of perversion did you vote for, dear?”
Chapter One
Rita Lee Taylor felt like she had a wad of sandpaper stuck in her throat. There was a gritty scratch when she swallowed, and an alarming catch made breathing difficult. She tried to take a deep breath, but stale air in the overheated meeting room only made things worse.
Stop it! Rita sternly ordered herself. There is no reason to get this stressed. You’ve known everybody up there for years. You’re not going to die. You will not even faint.
Speaking before a crowd, even a small one, wasn’t easy. One at a time in the Beauty Mark Rita Lee did just fine. But she totally understood why public speaking was the number one fear people reported, way ahead of death and injury.
You’re on a mission, Rita reminded herself. It’s okay to sound stupid, as long as the community center board gives its approval. Just think of them as heads of hair.
She visualized chairman Ray Caru’s unmanageable cowlick, and the bald spot hidden under Gene Closser’s baseball cap. Gracie Melmont always complained about the shampoo so she didn’t have to leave a tip. Louise Peterson secretly permed the curls she claimed were natural.
Thinking of them in that way helped Rita relax a little, but the palms of her hands remained clammy.
“That’s it for old business, is there any new business?” chairman Ray Caru asked, gazing around the almost empty room at the Hobart Junction Community Center.
Just four of seven board members were on hand for the monthly meeting, and Gene Closser, sitting down at the end of the table, looked like he might be asleep. The only other person in attendance, Irene Slump, was sitting in her usual seat in the last row, furiously taking notes and muttering to herself.
“Ray, I have some new business.” Rita Lee croaked, slowly rising from a metal folding chair that made an embarrassing thunk as she got to her feet. Despite the gravel in her throat, Rita Lee did her best to sound confident and in control.
“I’m here representing the volunteer fire department.” She took a second to clear her throat.
“We’ve been trying for years to get enough money together to buy a decent camcorder and a DVD player, so we can watch training films and video ourselves during practice drills. But every time we think we’ve got it covered, something else breaks down.
“Tax funds barely cover the cost of maintaining the vehicles. There’s never enough money to buy anything extra. We’ve tried bake sales and raffles. What the department really needs is a blockbuster fundraiser. And I think we’ve found it.”
Rita Lee paused to be sure she had the board’s full attention.
Louise Peterson, sitting next to Gene Closser, gave him a poke with her elbow.
“I’m listening,” Gene protested, eyes snapping open. “The fire department is tired of holding bake sales. Rita Lee wants to do something different. Tell us about it, honey.”
Bald spot, Rita Lee reminded herself as she tried again to clear her throat. “We want to put on a show, and I’m here to ask the board for your okay to use the community center stage.”
“Sounds fine to me,” said Ray Caru. “What are you planning to do? Put on a talent contest or something?
“Not exactly,” Rita Lee replied. “We’ve contacted a group in Chicago that puts on a male dance review. These guys have played Las Vegas and are really well known. They’re called the Top Cats. There’s a master of ceremonies and six dancers. They’re like the Chippendales, if you’ve ever heard of them.”
“Did I hear right?” gasped Gracie Melmont. “You want to have men taking off their clothes in our community center?”
“I’m not sure I’d put it exactly that way, but, yes, that’s what we want to do. I’ve been talking this over with my customers at the Beauty Mark, and every woman I’ve spoken to says she’ll buy a ticket. If we charge ten dollars apiece and three hundred people show up, that’s three thousand dollars. Subtract the Top Cats’ fee, and the volunteer fire department makes at least twenty-one hundred dollars just on ticket sales.”
“That certainly sounds good to me, dear,” Louise Peterson said. “I move we let the volunteer fire department use the community center for the show. Where do I buy a ticket, Rita Lee?”
“Over my dead body,” roared Gracie Melmont. A flush moved up her neck and throbbed in her plump jowls. “What are you people thinking? Kids roller skate in the gym on Friday nights. Do you want children roller skating in the same room where men take off their clothes in front of nasty-minded women?”
“Now wait a minute,” Rita Lee objected, all her fear of public speaking buried by indignation. “I resent you calling us nasty-minded. This is a legitimate fundraiser. It’s a show for adults who can make up their own minds whether they want to come. All the kids have to do is turn on their TV sets to see worst shows than this.”
At the back of the room Irene Slump flipped a page in her spiral notebook and shook out her cramped writing hand. “Lord help us,” she snorted.
“We have family values in Hobart Junction,” Gracie declared. “The reputation of the town and the community center is at stake. Think what people will say. They’ll cancel their memberships. They’ll stop supporting us with donations. The community center can’t be part of anything like this.”
Rita Lee watched Ray Caru eyes wander first toward her and then to Gracie. She could almost see the wheels turning in his brain.
Both women had valid points. He was sure the ladies would enjoy the show, and the fire department certainly needed the money. On the other hand, he didn’t want to jeopardize the center’s reputation, and he definitely didn’t want to cross Gracie Melmont. That woman could be hell on wheels when she got her back up.
Rita Lee took a step forward. “May I say one more thing? When I came up with the idea, I didn’t think anyone would object to a group of grown women having a little innocent fun. The last thing I want to do is hurt the reputation of the fire department or the community center. If you think this is not a good idea, I’ll call the Top Cats and cancel the show.”
“The sooner, the better!” Gracie shot back.
Ray glared darkly in Gracie’s direction. “One point, which I was going to make before Gracie interrupted, is that three board members aren’t here tonight. This is a complicated issue, and everybody on the board should be part of the decision.”
“Exactly!” Gracie’s voice rolled out over the meeting room like Reverend Goss on Sunday morning. “We’ll just see how people feel about nudity and perversion in our community center.”
“Let’s put off the vote until next month’s meeting,” Gene suggested. “At that time all board members have got to show up, no excuses accepted.”
After a unanimous vote to delay the decision, Rita Lee thanked the board members for their time and turned to leave. As she passed Irene Slump, she heard a low, nasty hiss.
Oh my, what have I gotten myself into now? Rita Lee wondered with growing dismay as the meeting room door banged closed behind her.
When Ray Caru arrived at his home on Lincoln Street not long afterwards, his wife Betty was waiting at the door, a cocktail in hand. “Here,” she said, taking his jacket and handing him the drink. “I think you’re going to need this.”
“Not a good sign,” Ray groaned. “Did the dog dig up Mrs. Ostell’s daffodils again?”
“Worse than that. I just got a phone call from Marge Overstreet. She said she heard you voted to allow perversion at the community center.”
“Where did she hear that? We just got out of the meeting five minutes ago.”
“Marge heard it from Estelle Conroy. Estelle heard it from Gloria Spilling. Gloria heard it from Joe Junior. Marge’s story is that Joe Junior was walking by the meeting room after his violin lesson and heard Gracie Melmont shout something about a pervert vote.”
Betty hung Ray’s jacket in the closet and turned back to her husband with a questioning look. “What kind of perversion did you vote for, dear?”