Converted: Bring the Family, part 9

The liquor store was not the most popular establishments in the neighbourhood, and Sharon wondered why. In her experience, being a bible-thumper was the obvious gateway to alcoholism.
She went in and the dark-skinned man behind the counter eyed her appreciatively. She was glad to see a wall of cigarette packets behind him.
“Mind if I browse around?” she asked.
He gestured for her to go on.

She picked a wire basket and started walking along the aisles, trailing smoke. The man was staring at her.
“You do home delivery?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Five dollars extra,” the man said.
“Fine, because back home they need a drink.”

She opened a tall refrigerator and put five six-packs of beer in the basket. From a shelf, she grabbed two bottles of cheap vodka and two of what looked like a cheap knock-off of Jack Daniels, down to the black label.
She placed the lot on the counter. “Add two cartons of Marlboros red,” she said. “And a pack of lighters.”
She took a notebook from the counter and a pen, and scrawled an address. “And have the lot delivered here,” she said, “at the Valardi house.”
The man eyed her. A scruffy kid of maybe fifteen was standing by his side. “Valardi the deacon?” the man said, picking up the note.
She grinned at him. “That’s the place. We are setting up a little party. Family reunion, you know…”
She put the money down while he put her purchase in the bag. He took the money, glanced at her, and then handed the bags to the kid. “Hurry up.”
Sharon watched him go, then turned.
“And now, my own shopping list,” she winked.

Sharon came out of the liquor store carrying a large brown paper bag, and stopped to lit a cigarette. She looked up at the two people that were hurrying towards her, concern and confusion over their soap-clean faces.
Francesca was walking hand in hand with a kid of maybe twenty, short hair and a crisp white short-sleeved shirt over a pair of tan pants.
Sharon’s grin widened as she recognised her cousin David, aunt Sophie’s only child. Meddling Francesca had saved her the bother to go and look for him.
“Sharon!” David said, as soon as he was close enough. “Is that really you?”
She cocked a hip and pulled her dark glasses down on her nose, until the lens clicked against her nose stud, and she pouted with her heavily rouged lips. “You don’t know me anymore, Dave?”
“I knew it!” Francesca exclaimed.
David shook his head. “Sharon…”
Sharon chuckled. “Close your mouth, cousin, or your girlfriend will think you’re getting the hots for me.”
She blew a cloud of smoke. “I didn’t know you were screwing,” she said to Francesca. “I always wondered how Dave’s in bed.”
Francesca blushed to the roots of her hair and let go of the young man’s hand.
“Sharon this is not you!” Dave exclaimed.
Sharon took a long cheek-hollowing drag on her Marlboro. “You are wrong, cousin. This is exactly who I always was, only I hid it underneath those baggy clothes your squeeze seems to like so much.”
David shook his head. “The Deacon will be mad!”
Sharon laughed. “As if I gave a fuck!”
David and Francesca gasped. “Sharon!”
She laughed some more and started in the direction of David’s house. “Is your mother at home?” she asked. “I was thinking about paying her a visit.”
David nodded. “Yes, you need to talk with my mother. She’ll be home in about one hour. She will help you with this… this madness!”
“Who knows, maybe I’ll help her with her madness.”
They walked down the road, the good kids and the bad girl. People stared, and made comments in low voices, and Sharon loved every minute. She wanted the wave of gossip to roll over the whole community, and seep into the souls of these fucking holy rollers.
Finally they reached Sophie’s white cottage. David opened the door, and they walked in.
“Let me put this down,” she said, walking towards the kitchen. She remembered the simple, unadorned house of her aunt. The squalor of it made her shudder.
David and Francesca followed her. She placed the bag on the table, and took out a six-pack. “You guys keep me company?” she asked, popping a can open. She took a drag on her cigarette, and washed it down with a gulp. She took her leather jacket off, and stretched luxuriantly, arching her back, her crop top riding up and giving the two kids a nice display of her pierced nipples.
Francesca just stared at her in horror.
David shook again his head. “Sharon, I can’t believe—what happened to you in that city?”
Sharon grinned. “I’m glad you asked, Dave.”
From her pocket, she took out one of the black vials.