When in Doubt, Add Butter Read Free Page B

you not, I have since learned in my extensive research on peacocks.
    Of course, I prefer to think Pepe died happy. I mean, at least he thought he was getting laid. That’s good, right?
    Especially since, as soon as the feathers began to fly, I knew I’d just lost my job.
    *   *   *
    After the thrashing and hysteria ended—Marie Lemurra’s, not Pepe’s; you will be relieved to know that he went quickly and quietly after his few scratchy advances toward my car—I had to go into the house and prepare the meal anyway.
    Fortunately, Marie was very aware of all eyes being on her, so she didn’t allow her anger toward me to continue bursting forth. The tension was unmistakable, however. I would be amazed if anyone there didn’t feel it.
    Then again, there was always an edge to Marie, so anyone around her would have been hard-pressed to determine exactly what her problem was at any given time.
    Mishaps like this were rare, thank goodness, but they did happen. People were usually very happy with my work. I can’t remember the last time I had a complaint. (I mean one that didn’t involve running over exotic pets, anaphylactic shock I had no way of preventing, or on one unfortunate occasion, a drunken spouse making a pass at me … and no, it wasn’t the husband.)
    If the night had not involved a dinner party, I have no doubt that I would have taken a bath on this one. The way I worked was to buy the ingredients myself, then get reimbursement for them, along with my pay, at the end of the night.
    In this case, it was a party for thirty, including Marie and two cast members from The Real Famewhores of D.C. or whatever the show was called. Marie had been fervently hoping the whole event would be filmed and included on the show in order to increase her screen time. Last year, she’d already made several appearances, backstabbing one person or another—at the time, she’d been tagged on-screen only as MARIE L —but then one of the cast members had grown popular enough to get her own show and there was room for one more in the regular cast, and Marie got the gig.
    The camera crew had been to her house several times, including tonight, but filming never guaranteed the scene would actually be aired. This, of course, made Marie the number one most attentive fan, intently watching for any sign of herself, even if it was just her overbleached hair dipping out of the corner of the shot at Columbia Country Club’s banquet hall.
    Once, when I’d arrived at her house for a small dinner party, I noticed she had the DVR strategically on hold for more than an hour until her first guest arrived so she could press PLAY and then pretend it just happened to be on when a close-up of her filled the screen.
    “That was dramatic,” Lynn Bowes, my pal who worked as a waitress at most of these events, whispered to me as I chopped a Vidalia onion.
    We’d become friends after we worked together a few times at the Chase Country Club, where my most lucrative work came in the form of special events several times a month, and we’d hung out a few times over the past couple of years on the rare occasion we both had a weekend night off.
    “I’ll say.” I kept my voice low, but I was frustrated. “I don’t know what her problem is.”
    “You don’t?”
    I looked at Lynn. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean a perfectly catered party for her friends going off without a hitch is about as interesting on-screen as paint drying.” She raised an eyebrow. “But histrionics, a catering catastrophe, and a dead peacock might just be enough to tip her over the edge into a leading role on that stupid show if the rumors of cast changes are true.”
    It made total sense. “ Are there rumors of cast changes?”
    Lynn snorted. “Oh my God yes, this is the most boring bunch since the Bradys!”
    I had always liked The Brady Bunch, but I took her meaning and gave a laugh. “Then Marie must be salivating at the prospect of getting a full-time gig