kinder-gartner. The pout looked ridiculous on a
fight-scarred, streetworn, forty-something face. ‘You really know how to hurt a
guy. I was just—”
“You wanna come over to
watch football tonight on my big screen?”
“No, geez, you’re—”
“Is there a fight on HBO?
You’ve really got to get your own cable, you know. Your antenna with the sheets
of tinfoil hanging from it is a disgrace. What do you get, two channels?”
“Three, and—”
“Or do you want me to go on
that worthless ATM stroll again with you, wear that stupid old-lady garb
and...”
He coughed and took a quick
sip of coffee. But she had seen it—the gleam of hope in his eyes.
She nodded knowingly. ‘Yep,
that’s it. You want me to do the decoy bit with you again. No way, José. It
ain’t happening. This girl’s got a paying gig.”
“The thing that John set
you up with? That chocolate gal?”
“The very one. I spent the
day at her mansion yesterday, and I’m going back this afternoon. In fact, I’ll
be living there in the lap of luxury, in the land of milk and chocolate,
earning megabucks, while you—”
“The gig sucks, huh?”
“Big time.” She reached
into her robe pocket, pulled out a fresh tissue and dabbed at her nose. “The
so-called ‘Lady’ Eleanor isn’t. She wants to know who’s been sending her hate
mail so that she can blow them away with the shotgun she keeps in her broom
closet.”
“Do you have anybody you
like for it?”
“Oh, I like them all for
it. Everybody around her hates her, and if you spent two minutes with her,
you’d see why. She’s a miserable person, and she’s determined that everyone
around share her misery.”
“Have you seen the
letters?”
She nodded, and sneezed.
“Do you think they’re
serious?”
She shrugged. “Who knows?
But either way, you have to operate on the assumption that they are. Better
safe than sorry and all that.”
“So, you’re gonna stay over
there for a while?”
He actually looked
disappointed. If she hadn’t felt so rotten, she might have been flattered that he
would miss her. But in her present state of mind, she decided it was the free
food and big-screen TV that he was grieving.
“I’m taking a suitcase,”
she said. “She’s already told me she doesn’t want me to stay, but....”
“But you’ve never been one
to worry about whether you’re wanted or not.”
She gave him a searching
look over her tissue. “Gee, thanks... I guess.”
“No problem. Hey, are you
gonna eat the rest of your roll? You didn’t get any sneeze cooties on that
half, right?”
This time when Savannah stepped
out of her car in the Maxwell driveway, she was well prepared. “Hey, you sweet
things,” she mumbled as she pulled a plastic sandwich bag from her purse and
unzipped it. At her feet, the silkies snarled, but with only a fraction of the
ferocity they had displayed the day before. And no one sank his fangs into her
living tissues. Definitely an improvement.
“Look at what Auntie
Savannah brought you.”
She tried to ignore the
added pain in her sinuses when she bent over to feed them the tidbits of fried
chicken livers seasoned with garlic powder. “Don’t think this is because I
particularly like you,” she said as they gobbled down the offering. “But I
figure things will go much more smoothly around here if you and I are friends.”
They ate every smidgen and even
licked her fingers clean. Tails wagging gaily, they sat up and begged for more.
She had to admit that with doggy smiles on their furry faces, they were pretty
darned cute. “All right,” she said, “I like you a little bit.”
“My mother will scream at
you if she catches you feeding her dogs,” a female voice said from the region
of the garage. Savannah turned to see an attractive blonde in a skimpy bikini
watching her, a beach towel dangling from one hand, a pair of sunglasses in the
other. Her suit was wet, as well as the towel. Savannah assumed she had
fight-scarred, streetworn, forty-something face. ‘You really know how to hurt a
guy. I was just—”
“You wanna come over to
watch football tonight on my big screen?”
“No, geez, you’re—”
“Is there a fight on HBO?
You’ve really got to get your own cable, you know. Your antenna with the sheets
of tinfoil hanging from it is a disgrace. What do you get, two channels?”
“Three, and—”
“Or do you want me to go on
that worthless ATM stroll again with you, wear that stupid old-lady garb
and...”
He coughed and took a quick
sip of coffee. But she had seen it—the gleam of hope in his eyes.
She nodded knowingly. ‘Yep,
that’s it. You want me to do the decoy bit with you again. No way, José. It
ain’t happening. This girl’s got a paying gig.”
“The thing that John set
you up with? That chocolate gal?”
“The very one. I spent the
day at her mansion yesterday, and I’m going back this afternoon. In fact, I’ll
be living there in the lap of luxury, in the land of milk and chocolate,
earning megabucks, while you—”
“The gig sucks, huh?”
“Big time.” She reached
into her robe pocket, pulled out a fresh tissue and dabbed at her nose. “The
so-called ‘Lady’ Eleanor isn’t. She wants to know who’s been sending her hate
mail so that she can blow them away with the shotgun she keeps in her broom
closet.”
“Do you have anybody you
like for it?”
“Oh, I like them all for
it. Everybody around her hates her, and if you spent two minutes with her,
you’d see why. She’s a miserable person, and she’s determined that everyone
around share her misery.”
“Have you seen the
letters?”
She nodded, and sneezed.
“Do you think they’re
serious?”
She shrugged. “Who knows?
But either way, you have to operate on the assumption that they are. Better
safe than sorry and all that.”
“So, you’re gonna stay over
there for a while?”
He actually looked
disappointed. If she hadn’t felt so rotten, she might have been flattered that he
would miss her. But in her present state of mind, she decided it was the free
food and big-screen TV that he was grieving.
“I’m taking a suitcase,”
she said. “She’s already told me she doesn’t want me to stay, but....”
“But you’ve never been one
to worry about whether you’re wanted or not.”
She gave him a searching
look over her tissue. “Gee, thanks... I guess.”
“No problem. Hey, are you
gonna eat the rest of your roll? You didn’t get any sneeze cooties on that
half, right?”
This time when Savannah stepped
out of her car in the Maxwell driveway, she was well prepared. “Hey, you sweet
things,” she mumbled as she pulled a plastic sandwich bag from her purse and
unzipped it. At her feet, the silkies snarled, but with only a fraction of the
ferocity they had displayed the day before. And no one sank his fangs into her
living tissues. Definitely an improvement.
“Look at what Auntie
Savannah brought you.”
She tried to ignore the
added pain in her sinuses when she bent over to feed them the tidbits of fried
chicken livers seasoned with garlic powder. “Don’t think this is because I
particularly like you,” she said as they gobbled down the offering. “But I
figure things will go much more smoothly around here if you and I are friends.”
They ate every smidgen and even
licked her fingers clean. Tails wagging gaily, they sat up and begged for more.
She had to admit that with doggy smiles on their furry faces, they were pretty
darned cute. “All right,” she said, “I like you a little bit.”
“My mother will scream at
you if she catches you feeding her dogs,” a female voice said from the region
of the garage. Savannah turned to see an attractive blonde in a skimpy bikini
watching her, a beach towel dangling from one hand, a pair of sunglasses in the
other. Her suit was wet, as well as the towel. Savannah assumed she had
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