I Heart Beat by Edyth; Bulbring Read Free Book Online Page A

the table and prepare the snacks. I put 475 peanuts in one bowl and 192 pretzels in another. I check the bookshelves. I spent a whole day arranging them into subject matter and then alphabetical order. They look lovely.
    I’m folding the final creases into the napkins when The Neighbours arrive. Candy’s
so excited
to be here. Tom’s ticking. His nose looks like the inside of a pomegranate. He puts a bottle of wine (Chardonnay) on the table.
    â€œI like red myself, but I thought you might like the white,” he says to Grummer.
    Boooiiiiing! News Flash! I can see the headline in the
Village Voice
: “Book Club Meeting Bombs as Mavis Wellbeloved hosts Dry Evening.”
    Grummer looks a little tense. Our house doesn’t do booze. Our house faces a night of shame. I tell Grummer I’ll be right back.
    I shove my principles into my sock drawer and grab one of the bikes from the garage. I haven’t ridden one of these things in five years, but, as they say, it’s like riding a bicycle.
    I see the green robot flashing outside the pubbingrill. It’s happy hour and the place is buzzing.
    There’s a cross lady standing over a table, shouting at a man who’s got seven empty Black Label beer bottles lined up in front of him. “Here you are again! Drinking all the money. Come home before I klap you all the way to Cape Town!” she screams, threatening to hit him. And the men around the bar look and laugh.
    I catch Toffie in the kitchen slicing lemons.
    I don’t have any time for small talk. “Toffie. Give me wine,” I say.
    He gives me a reproachful look. “Ag no, Beat, man. I can’t do that. You’re underage. But hows about a Fanta?”
    I take the knife out of his hand. I do a quick calculation of how long it would take to slice and dice Toffie into a million pieces. Too long. Perhaps another time. I give him the low-down in five clipped sentences: Grummer hosting book club. Don’t have booze. They want booze. Face shame. Need wine fast.
    Toffie gets it. He’s not as slow as he looks. “Ag, Beat, man. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
    He goes around the back of the bar and comes back with a bag containing six bottles of wine. Three red, two white and one rosé.
    â€œWhat you doing tomorrow?” he asks. “I’ve got this place I go to and want you to come.” He holds the bag of wine tightly against his chest and waits for me to answer.
    There are times in one’s life when one has to do unpleasant things, like peeling onions, cleaning up vomit and putting out the garbage. This is one of those times. I say through my teeth that I’ll see him in the morning then — and I grab the wine.
    I get back home as the last guest arrives. Grummer’s serving apple juice and everyone’s eyeing Tom’s Chardonnay with mean eyes. I give Grummer the wine and get some glasses.
    â€œBeatrice, you’re a good girl,” Grummer says and she squeezes my shoulders.
    Whatever.
    Candy’s
puffing
smoke out her nose and
flicking
ash on the carpet. So I get some ashtrays. Everyone else grabs their bags and lights up. Except for the one guy.
    He stands next to Grummer and he’s sipping apple juice. He’s showing her a passage from the Bible and then he points to a page in
The Da Vinci Code
. He brushes a grey curl off his forehead as he makes a point. Grummer nods in agreement and smiles at him.
    Ka-ching!

Chapter 11
    EVERYONE WENT HOME. Finally. When they did, Grummer burnt lemon-scented candles to get the stink of cigarette smoke out of the house and then coughed all night. She’s allergic.
    This morning I’m sitting on the veranda with my laptop, typing up a report on the book club meet. Grummer’s sipping tea and watching the honeybirds play in the Lion’s Ear flowers. She’s ticking off all the birds she sees in her
Roberts Bird Guide
. She likes to keep track.
    My report