Yellow Mama Archives II

Gay Degani

Acuff, Gale
Allen, R. A.
Alleyne, Chris
Andes, Tom
Arnold, Sandra
Baber, Bill
Baird, Meg
Baker, J. D.
Balaz, Joe
Barker, Adelaide
Barker, Tom
Barnett, Brian
Bartlett, Daniel C.
Bayly, Karen
Beckman, Paul
Berriozabal, Luis Cuauhtemoc
Beveridge, Robert
Blakey, James
Burke, Wayne F.
Campbell, J. J.
Cancel, Charlie
Capshaw, Ron
Carr, Steve
Centorbi, David Calogero
Christensen, Jan
Clifton, Gary
Cody, Bethany
Costello, Bruce
Coverly, Harris
Crist, Kenneth James
Cumming, Scott
Davie, Andrew
Davis, Michael D.
Degani, Gay
De Neve, M. A.
Dillon, John J.
Dorman, Roy
Doyle, John
Dunham, T. Fox
Ebel, Pamela
Fillion, Tom
Fortier, M. L.
Garnet, George
Graysol, Jacob
Grech, Amy
Greenberg, KJ Hannah
Grey, John
Hardin, Scott
Held, Shari
Hicks, Darryl
Hivner, Christopher
Hohmann, Kurt
Holtzman, Bernice
Jabaut, Mark
Jermin, Wayne
Jeschonek, Robert
Johns. Roger
Kanner, Mike
Kennedy, Cecilia
Keshigian, Michael
Kitcher, William
Kompany, James
Koperwas, Tom
Larsen, Ted R.
Le Due, Richard
Leotta, Joan
Lubaczewski, Paul
Lucas, Gregory E.
Luer, Ken
Lyon, Hillary
Mannone, John C.
Martinez, Richard
McConnell, Logan
McQuiston, Rick
Middleton, Bradford
Mladinic, Peter
Mobili, Juan
Mullins, Ian
Nielsen, Ayaz Daryl
Nielsen, Judith
Onken, Bernard
Owen, Deidre J.
Park, Jon
Parker, Becky
Pettus, Robert
Prusky, Steve
Reddick, Niles M.
Robson, Merrilee
Rollins, Janna
Rose, Brad
Rosmus, Cindy
Scharhag, Lauren
Schauber, Karen
Schmitt, Di
Short, John
Slota, Richelle Lee
Smith, Elena E.
Snethen, Daniel G.
Steven, Michael
Stoler, Cathi
Stoll, Don
Surkiewicz, Joe
Swartz, Justin
Taylor, J. M.
Temples. Phillip
Traverso Jr., Dionisio "Don"
Turner, Lamont A.
Tustin, John
Tyrer, DJ
Verlaine, Rp
Viola, Saira
Waldman, Dr. Mel
Weibezahl, Robert
Weil, Lester L.
White, Robb
Wilhide, Zachary
Williams, K. A.
Woods, Jonathan
Young, Mark
Zelvin, Elizabeth
Zimmerman, Thomas


Gay Degani

         She knew she had that “IT” factor, long hair, perfect skin, caterpillar eyelashes, flawless makeup, and she was skinny, but also shapely, and she could dress. Her short, short skirts, silky, slinky tops, eyeglasses she didn’t need for seeing, were all “IT,” and her sexy, funny sense of innocence all added to her charisma. For him, the grizzled man who worked the counter at the upscale coffee shop, she was everything he ever wanted. 

He was flirty. He was old, but she flirted back, even though he wasn’t her type, meaning she couldn’t afford to date a forty-something barista, yet she stopped in every day because the shop was right outside her apartment, and she could grab a cappuccino before she walked the three blocks to work.

They exchanged names a week after they met. He was Jack and she was Katherine, and she had to admit he was funny. Some days she held up the line, she was laughing so hard. Sometimes she stopped by the coffee shop on her way home. Then one day she happened to mention she wanted to collect something, not stamps or coins or baseball cards, but something interesting and fun. You know, as an investment. He suggested vinyl.

“Vinyl what?” she asked, and he gave her an enthusiastic beginner’s rundown on the plus points of being a discophile. He invited her to come over. He was almost done with his shift, and he lived close by. He made her a double cap to drink while she waited. 

He helped her up his porch stairs and into his house, she felt so dizzy. She’d never felt that way before.

“You work too hard,” he said. “All you career girls do.” 

He guided her into the kitchen where she reached for a chair, intending to sit, but he tightened his grip on her arm, yanked her over to a grimy door.

“W-w-what?” She tried to pull away, but he had the door open and dragged her down the stairs. She started to scream. He flicked on a light. 

Three women, hair filthy, makeup long since melted, dressed in ragged and smelly business attire, Nordstrom, Kate Spade, Banana Republic, were shackled to the wall on a stained king-sized mattress, calling out in confusion, mewling, begging.  When she saw there was one empty shackle, she twisted, raised her free hand to scratch out his eyes, but he was too strong. He threw her onto the bed, knelt on her stomach, and secured her to the wall.

Afterward, he smiled down at all four women, clapped his hands, then pointed, “Cathy and Catherine and Kitty and now, Katherine. My collection is filling up.” 



Gay Degani has a chapbook, Pomegranate, a full-length collection, Rattle of Want, and a suspense novel, What Came Before. She's been published in Atticus Review, Smokelong Quarterly, The Phare, and Ghost Parachute, among others.


Gay Degani

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