Bad Blood by Mary Monroe Page B

care of that if I have to. I’ve already agreed to keep up his car payment and insurance.”
    My two friends gulped at the same time.
    â€œYou can both stop looking so stunned. It’s no big deal. Seth doesn’t have a problem with me doing that. It’s all coming out of my savings. Besides, I know my uncle would do the same for me.”
    â€œSeth must be a saint,” Patrice continued. “Speaking of the saint, I noticed he’s not with you as much lately. You must be slacking up on your job. . . .”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
    Patrice often made remarks that made me bristle. She was the least attractive of the four of us, and she had the hardest time attracting and keeping men. She blamed it on the fact that she was almost six feet tall. She also had plain features and a head full of coarse black hair, which she usually wore in braids. But when the four of us got together, her bitterness always seemed to be aimed at me.
    â€œWhat it means is you’re probably not as hot as you think, after all. The last three times I called over here and the last five times I visited, Seth was nowhere around. Is everything all right? I can never tell when you’re stressed, because you always look so calm. Giving up your privacy and your quality time alone with Seth must be taking a toll on you.”
    Paulette always came to my rescue in a tense situation. “Honey, Rachel is so on top of her game, she could teach classes on it. If anything is wrong, it’s with Seth,” she said, giving me a conspiratorial nod.
    â€œEverything is fine. Seth’s just spending more time at his parents’ house these days. His mother has had some minor health issues, so he needs to help look after her. And he’s using his old bedroom as an off-site office,” I reported.
    I didn’t like the fact that I saw less of Seth now. As a matter of fact, he had spent the last two nights at his parents’ house, to get some extra work done, he had claimed. I had noticed the exasperated looks on his face when he saw my uncle stretched out on our couch, with a drink in his hand, for hours at a time. In a way I was glad Seth spent a lot of time away so he wouldn’t have to look at Uncle Albert and I wouldn’t have to look at him. I kept telling myself that since he and I would be spending the next forty or fifty years together, a little time apart wouldn’t hurt us.
    I found out the following week that Seth felt the same way.
    We always had our discussions about my uncle in our bedroom if he was somewhere close enough to overhear us. We had left him in the living room, with a drink in his hand, his feet propped up on the hassock, watching a Cheers rerun.
    â€œI think I’m going to move back home for a while,” Seth told me less than a minute after we’d entered the bedroom.
    I whirled around to face him with my mouth hanging open. “What? For how long?”
    â€œUh, maybe just until Albert leaves. I think it would be easier on everybody involved.” This was the second time in two days that Seth had come home and discovered that Uncle Albert had drunk up the last of his scotch. A few days ago, he had come home and found Uncle Albert in his favorite bathrobe.
    â€œMy uncle will be back on his own soon,” I defended with a whisper. Having to whisper in our own bedroom was another thing that bothered Seth.
    This time he didn’t care, I guessed, because he spoke in a very loud voice. “I can’t spend another week living with that man!” he roared.
    My jaw dropped. I ran to the door and cracked it open. I waited for a few seconds, and when I heard my uncle snoring in the living room, I knew he had not heard Seth’s outburst.
    â€œAre you trying to tell me something?” I demanded.
    â€œBaby, all I’m trying to tell you is that I can’t spend much more time with your uncle in this apartment.” Seth