The Hell Yo - lanyon Josh (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗
“It was in the papers. Your friend, that cop. He was the one who found the body, right?
Someone called and tipped him off. We thought it must be you.” He turned back to my
computer, began clicking away again, fingers flying over the keyboard.
“Oh, man, I bet you laid an egg when you saw your screen go black!”
What was with the bird references today?
Grinning in geek delight, Ted added, “Of course, we always knew there was something
wrong with that kid.”
I said dryly, “Did you?”
“The Barbies are back,” Velvet announced, poking her head in the office.
I glanced up. “Who?”
“Your friends from yesterday. The fluffragettes.”
I muttered something un-familial under my breath and went out.
Lauren, carrying a Gap Kids shopping bag, greeted me. “Natalie and I were in the area,
so we thought we’d nail down the details on the party – if you’ve got a free minute.”
Natalie? I thought the middle sib was named Natasha. I tried to remember if I had
addressed her as Natasha. I glanced at her, and she was beaming at me in that eerily
affectionate way.
Didn’t these women have jobs? Didn’t they have other interests besides this bloody
wedding?
Velvet approached, phone in hand. “Did you want to make a holiday donation to the
American Family Association?”
The AFA? The people who define a family as one man, one woman, and two-point-
three properly baptized biological offspring – no exceptions?
“I think not,” I said.
Velvet moved off to convey my regrets. I watched the Dautens sizing her up with what
seemed to be professional interest and felt unexpectedly protective of her brown ordinariness
in the face of their air-brushed perfection.
The blue eyes swiveled back my way.
“Maybe we could run out and grab a cup of coffee?” Natalie suggested.
“Great idea!” Lauren chimed in – as though they hadn’t run through their lines on the
way over. “There’s a Starbucks a few doors down.”
“I really can’t…” My voice trailed in the face of their dismay.
“No prob,” said Velvet, from behind the counter. “I’ve got it.”
I gave her an ungrateful look.
“Great!” said Lauren.
The three of us marched out, passing Ted’s red Corolla parked on the street. Memory of
the red Corolla from the day before niggled at me. The next instant the feeling was gone,
Lauren and Natalie nattering happily – about what, I have no idea.
We reached Starbucks, I took their orders for coffee-laced whipped cream, and got into
line while Lauren sat and pulled out her Palm Pilot.
“Christmas Night in Harlem” was playing on the loudspeaker as I carried our drinks
back to the circle of chairs, picking my way through their scattered shopping bags.
“This is so perfect!” Natalie announced, taking her nonfat mocha Frappaccino with a
shot of sugar-free mint and extra whipped cream. “Thank you!”
Coffee-by-the-numbers. Myself, I prefer to patronize the independents, but with one
on every corner, Starbucks lays a mean caffeine ambush.
“So…what are Lisa’s favorite songs from the ’40s?” asked Lauren, fixing me with those
china doll-blue eyes, one finger poised to type.
Did she have favorite songs from the ’40s? She was born in the ’40s. Did toddlers have
favorite tunes?
“I don’t know.”
They looked nonplussed. “Well, what songs were special to her parents?” Lauren
prodded helpfully.
This was awkward. Lisa never spoke of her family. I had no idea if she even had family
living. I knew my maternal grandparents were dead, but that was all I knew. The few times I
had pushed for information, Lisa had been deliberately vague – even for her. I had grown up
accepting that this was simply the way it was, but I could see it would seem a little weird to
outsiders.
“I think she’ll be happy with…uh…the classics.”
“English classics or American classics?”
For Chrissake.
“Both.”
Incredibly, they looked satisfied with that. Lauren keyed into the Palm Pilot.
“I can’t see how you’re going to put all this together in…”
“Ten days,” said Brigadier General Lauren crisply.
“Right.”
“It’s not easy,” Natalie confided, adding reassuringly, “But the hard part’s done.”
I’d take her word for it. Lauren watched me keenly. “So you’re okay with this?”
I opened my mouth, but uncharacteristically, I failed to think of what to say. They
waited politely.
“Er…yeah, why not?”
Good question. Why not? I mean, I had spent most of my life trying to evade Lisa’s
overprotective clutches. This marriage was bound to give me breathing space.
“It’ll mean a lot to Lisa,” I said, trying not to sound as stiff as one of my unknown
British relatives.
They uttered cooing sounds and made fluttery motions like they were about to enfold
me in a group hug. Since this wasn’t physically possible given the seating arrangements, they
had to settle for smiling at me and reaching over to pat my arm and knee.
“I’m so glad we were able to talk,” Lauren said. She put the Palm Pilot away.
Apparently the emergency board meeting was over.
“Are you and Lisa still quarreling?” Natalie said sympathetically, as I held the glass door
for them on our way out.
“Quarreling?” What had Lisa told these people – these strangers? “Of course not.”
“Lisa didn’t say that,” Lauren said quickly with a quelling glance at her sister. “She only
said you were not very happy with her.”
They gave me twin looks of commiseration that still conveyed that I was so in the
wrong.
“She said you hate to be fussed over,” Natalie said. “But of course she can’t help it, can
she? That’s what mothers do.”
What in God’s name were they talking about?
Lauren looked serious. “It must have been such a shock that boy being arrested. Did
you have any idea he was capable of that?”
That Boy. Well, at least now I knew what they were talking about and where they got
their news bulletins.
“No.”
“It goes to show,” Natalie said.
We hugged on the sidewalk, then they departed for more shopping. I hot-footed it
back to the shop.
