Secret Lives of the Kudzu Debutantes by Cathy Holton Read Free Book Online Page B

shit.” She threw Lavonne's glass of Chablis over her shoulder and handed her a margarita.
    Lavonne knew immediately that they would be friends.
    Leonard tolerated the friendship for as long as he could, which turned out to be about three weeks. Lavonne had been a quiet, steady girl in high school and college who concentrated on keeping her grade point average as close to 4.0 as possible. But Eadie Boone changed all that. Under Eadie's tutelage Lavonne became the crazy, irresponsible girl she'd never dared to be before. They were like Catholic schoolgirls on a weekend binge. Theywent to endless parties, took Trevor's credit card and stayed at the Ritz Carlton in Atlanta, went on wild beach trips, and out to Bad Bob's to drink tequila and dance with peanut farmers and cowboys. It didn't take long for news of their exploits to reach Leonard.
    “Y'all are going to ruin your reputations,” Leonard said one night at dinner. He'd only been in Ithaca a few weeks but already he used “y'all” like he'd used it all his life. Leonard had lost no time going native, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and practicing his Southern accent, wearing loafers without socks and madras plaid shorts to numerous parties.
    “This isn't high school, Leonard.”
    “But it is a small town. A small town I have to make a living in. What you and Eadie do reflects poorly on the firm.”
    “You have to be kidding me.”
    “No, Lavonne, I am not kidding you.” He was chubby and balding and when he got angry the bald spot on the back of his head glowed under the overhead lights. “You and Eadie seem to think you can run wild with no repercussions. You don't see Nita Broadwell acting that way. She doesn't jump naked into swimming pools or streak across the Wal-Mart parking lot.”
    “That was Eadie. I never take my clothes off.”
    “Nita Broadwell does everything Charles tells her to do.”
    “Yeah, well, Nita needs to get a life. Charles is an asshole.”
    Leonard looked offended. “He's my law partner,” he said, his bald spot pulsing. “And Nita Broadwell is a good Southern wife.”
    She reached out and flicked his nose like she was killing a mosquito.
    “Well, Leonard, if you wanted a good Southern wife, maybe you should have married one.”
    She had been angry then, but Lavonne chuckled now, remembering. Leonard's new trophy wife, Christy, was Southern. She was from Soddy Daisy, Tennessee, and called herself
Creesty
.
    “What are you laughing at?” Eadie said, coming back into the kitchen.
    “Nothing. Can you make up another shaker of those martinis?”
    “Is the pope Catholic?” Eadie said. “Does a fifty-pound sack of flour make a big biscuit?”
    By the time Nita showed up thirty minutes later, they had finished off their second shaker and were giggling about the time they sent a Stripagram to Worland Pendergrass's husband, Connelly, during the middle of a big dinner party.
    “Nita!” Eadie said, when she saw her standing in the doorway. “Come over here, girl, and give me a hug.”
    “Y'all aren't drinking are you?” Nita said, taking off her coat and laying it over the back of one of the chairs. She hugged Eadie and then Lavonne.
    “Of course we're drinking,” Lavonne said. “Join us.” She patted the stool next to her and Nita sat down at the counter. Eadie stubbed her cigarette out in an ashtray and got up to make some more drinks.
    “Where'd you get the cigarettes?”
    Lavonne blew a couple of smoke rings at the ceiling. “Ashley's room. We found them in the bottom drawer of her dresser next to a box of diet pills that she also told me she didn't use.”
    Nita giggled. “Y'all are terrible,” she said.
    Eadie danced around the kitchen, shaking her hips to the rhythm of the cocktail shaker like a hyperactive Carmen Miranda, like Charo on speed. She opened the freezer and took out three freshly chilled glasses and poured martinis all around.
    “This'll put hair on your chest,” Eadie said.
    “Nectar of