As soon as his feet came together and the green blackness cleared, Ian felt like he had stepped through Alice’s looking glass. He found himself standing on the back patio of what he’d always dreamed a TV star’s mansion would be. It had the staccato bricks, expensive furniture, and a glass table by a huge kidney shaped pool, set with candles and dinner for three. And there in front of the pool stood Miss America—literally.
Mamie Rae Tipton had been crowned Miss America when he was tiny. At that time, she had been the youngest winner ever, barely nineteen, but she had stunning looks, and a vibrant charisma exceeded only by a stunning singing voice, becoming one of the most popular choices ever.
Her career had encompassed it all, from Broadway to films and recordings, even making a name for herself as a popular talk and game show guest. There was even a variety show, “Tippy Time”, for a couple of years, when variety shows were fashionable.
Ian had found a picture of her wearing a red one-piece bathing suit lounging on a beach. He had ripped it out of a magazine he read while waiting to get his hair cut at the barbershop. She was a girl from East Tennessee, not far from his own Southwestern Virginia home, so even at nine and culturally ignorant, he knew who she was. Ian saved that picture for years; he wondered momentarily whatever had happened to it.
And there his first wet dream stood before him, hands on hips and dazzling smile beckoning him into her, just like that never quite forgotten picture.
“Aw, ain’t you just the cutest thing!’ She turned to Colton standing beaming behind her. “No wonder you took to him so!” She took a step over and scooped Ian up into a big hug. “Oh, honey it is so good to meet you! Miss Elizabeth was right!”
Ian couldn’t speak. Miss America’s still firm and very full round breasts were pressed against his chest. “I’m happy to meet you, Miss Amer…uh…Tip…uh Mrs. Shores.” He managed to sort of get out.
“Call me Tippy, Baby Doll, everybody does. And what have you got here?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just popped open the top and looked in. “Is this sweet iced tea?”
Her beaming eyes grew impossibly wider, and her smile out phased the moon “How did you know? I die for this. I just can’t make it good.” She grabbed him by the arm and led him to a chair. “I’m a Southern girl, but just can’t quite make it like my mama. Never tastes the same….”
She picked up a glass from the table she had obviously already poured and been sipping from. “I made this.” She tossed the contents on the ground. “I can’t wait to try yours…”
“Actually, it’s not fresh. I made it last night…” Ian tried to explain, not wanting her to expect miracles in a plastic container he’d bought for a buck at the Dollar store.
Too late, she had produced a fresh crystal glass, cubes of ice and poured herself a glass faster than a speeding bullet. “Pishaw, Baby Doll.” She took what could only be described as a lady like swig. Her hand immediately went to her chest and she closed her eyes. “Oh my Gawd…” she drawled.
Tippy picked up the expensive pitcher from her table and practically slammed it into her husband’s chest. “Colton, honey, dump this crap out and then we’ll have us some steak.”
Colton didn’t have time to respond before Tippy slipped her free arm, the other guarding her teas glass like a prisoner guards his food, around Ian’s waist and lead him to a seat. “Now you have to tell me, what part of the South you’re from, Baby Doll, and don’t yank my chain. You’ve worked hard to ditch the accent, and there’s just enough left to color, but only a true Southern boy knows how to make tea like that.”
She eased him very quickly into a chair, and filled two empty glasses at the table from his cheap pitcher and placed the remainder right by what he assumed was her plate. She seemed to never take a breath and kept right on. “I’m a Tennessee girl, you know, just a small town…Mountain City.”
She batted her eyes and took another ladylike swig, giving Ian a chance to give her a big smile before finally getting a chance to say something. “Now, who’s yanking whose chain, Miss Tippy? You tell people you’re from Mountain City, but you’re not. You’re from Shouns, the Bloody Third to be exact.”
Tippy practically did a spit take. “How on Earth did you know that? I’ve told people I'm from Mountain City for so long, just because I got tired of hearing they couldn’t find Shouns on a map. Colton, honey, be a dear and get those plates from the warming cart over there.”
“Well, these days it’s actually true.” Ian sipped from his own glass. “They closed the post office in ’76, and all of Johnson County’s practically Mountain City now.” He smiled at his own knowledge of her small town.
“Don’t tell me,” she chattered. “You can’t be from Johnson County!”
“No, ma’am.” Ian said quietly. “But we’re practically neighbors. I’m from just over the state line in Virginia, a little place called Lost Mountain.”
“That tiny bald spot between Bristol and Wytheville? I thought I came from the poor side of the creek!” Colton put plates down in front of them and pulled up his own chair. “Honey, Ian’s from Lost Mountain.”
“Never heard of it.” He said cutting in to a perfectly grilled steak.
“Of course not.” Ian said. “The only thing that ever happened there was someone found a quarter by the road…once.”
Tippy sighed and pointed her fork at Ian. “Eat your food, Baby Doll. I can’t believe I have a real neighbor for a neighbor. We true Southerners have to stick together in this town you know. Colton claims to be a Southerner, but he’s from Texas. That’s not the South. It’s a foreign country all it’s own.”
Ian grinned. “Just like Florida.”
Tippy giggled.
Colton pointed his knife. “Hey, remember the Alamo.”
“I rest my case.” Tippy grinned. “You’re family must be so proud of you. Not many get out of that area, especially all the way out here to California.” She chewed a little baked potato. “Unless of course it’s to turn tricks down on the boulevard.”
“This is Hollywood. I have an option on that for next week.” Ian said as he finally cut into his own plate.
“So you going to bring all your family out here? You know, eventually?” Colton said trying to get in on the conversation.
Tippy batted Colton’s hand playfully. “He’s a Southerner, not a cockroach, honey.” With out a beat she turned right back to Ian. “So are you? You must have a big old family, lots of brothers and sisters?”
Ian felt odd. “No. No family at all.” He dropped his eyes to his plate, hoping that was a polite signal that it was a topic he didn’t care to be conversational.
“Girlfriend?” Tippy smiled. “Boyfriend?”
Colton cleared his throat. “Tippy, let the poor boy finish his food before you start pimping for him. Eat your steak son, you can fill out the application forms later.”
“I am so sorry, Baby Doll. I did not mean to pry.”
And to Ian’s delight she never really shut up the rest of the dinner. She cooed about this. She sighed about that. She called him “Baby Doll” and batted her eyes. She even let Ian and Colt get a few words in now and again.
The only sour note to the evening was when Ian’s cell phone went off, much to his embarrassment, even to his further dismay when the name read “Clare”. He tossed the phone on a yellow padded chaise, but the Shores made it better by getting him to talk about the situation and himself.
And he learned all about them. Their two sons were off on a brother outing that weekend. The youngest had just graduated college and was trying to “find himself”. The oldest had been discharged from the Iraqi conflict after having been injured twice and started a small private plane chartering business.
Tippy regaled him with how Reese, the oldest, hadn’t been himself, seemingly unable to connect since coming home. Jesse, the younger, was hoping to make some in roads while they were off to “God knows where”. They had been typical brothers growing up, fighting tooth and nail but always at each other’s bruised and bloodied sides.
It was finally well after dark. They made him feel so comfortable and so welcome. The dinner had been perfect and Tippy was serving dessert with brandy.
“This looks wonderful” Ian looked up at his hostess with warm appreciation.
“Now don’t get to excited, Baby Doll. I always give Inez Saturday night off and this kinda cookin’ is not exactly my specialty.” She explained.
“You do just fine, Tip.” Colton tossed in, looking eager to grab his fork and dig in.
“It’s just a Marie Calender cheesecake, but the strawberries are fresh and the whip cream is homemade.” She finally seated herself and placed a fresh linen in her lap. “Well, if you call adding whole milk to a box mix homemade. Dig in boys.”
With that the cell phone rang. As always, forgetting what he had done with it, Ian had to look in several directions for the ring.
Colton rose from his place and walked over to the chaise Ian had tossed it on when it rang earlier. He looked down at the phone and back up to Ian. “It’s Clair again.” The man picked it up and handed it to Ian. “Wanna answer it?”
Ian slapped his hands to his forehead. “Oh my God…”
Tippy waved her hands in the air, “Oh Baby Doll, let’s just nip that problem in the bud right now. Shall we?” She put down her fork and coquettishly took the cell phone from her husband’s outstretched hand. Patting her perfectly placed hair back in place she flipped open the phone.
“Hello, darling, Ian can’t come to the phone right now…What...oh honey, he’s very busy…well if must know, he’s husband are playin’ with this new sex toy we bought last week.”
Ian’s jaw dropped and his head snapped to looked at Colton, who was just shoveling the first huge piece of dessert in his mouth.
“Oh my God!” Colton moaned. “That is so good!”
Ian wanted to jump in the pool and drown.
Tippy smiled brightly and signaled with her un-phoned hand for more of the same. “Have you ever used a feeldoe on Ian? It’s so much better than a dildo, more personal for both of ya…”
“More, I’ve got to have more!” Colton moaned loudly as shoveled more cheesecake in his mouth and leaned closer to the cell phone.
Tippy smiled broadly. “That’s it Ian, honey, give him the real thing now.”
“Oh yeah, baby!” Colton panted as he reached for his brandy. “Harder, stud! Harder!”
Ian couldn’t believe his ears as Tippy turned her attention back to the phone. “That’s right, that would make him very busy…now honey, don’t call back. We’ll be busy all night…that’s right…and sweetheart, I don’t think there’s ever a need for you to call again…Tah darling, you have a good night.”
Tippy closed the cell phone, handed it back to Ian and finally picked up her fork. “There, Baby Doll. I’m pretty sure that problem is solved.”
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