Southern Fried (23 page)

sliding out of me.

Then he pulled an inch away and laughed. “What?” I asked,

gasping for breath.

“You are one hot drag mess, Marlene,” he said, another kiss

added, then another.

“Takes one to know one, Portia,” I told him, in between

hungry sucks and slurps on his full lips.

He put his forehead against mine. “Then I’m glad that I’m

taken
by you.” He kissed my nose. “But can we please get you

out of that makeup; a raccoon might see you and think he struck

gold.”

I laughed and jumped up. He led me to the shower and left

me there while he cooked dinner. Still damp and all boyed-up

again, I found him in his bed, two bowls sitting on a tray. “Yum,”

I said, taking a deep whiff. “What’s that?”

He smiled and stuck his finger inside his meal, a quick suck on

146 Rob Rosen

his finger, a wink at me. “Hoppin’ John,” he informed.

“And what in the world is that?” I asked.

He merely sighed. “Hoppin’ John, Trip. Black-eyed peas, rice,

salt, bacon, and onions. Pearl uses fat back, sometimes hamhocks.

Me, I like the bacon.”

“Healthier, huh? Makes John hop all that much higher, I take

it?”

He shrugged. “Lesser of three evils.” He grabbed a spoonful.

“You gonna eat it or continue with this line of questioning?”

I jumped into bed, my towel thrown to the floor, both of us

naked and chowing down. “Delicious,” I said, in between eager

bites. “Smokey, salty, tangy, with just a slight kick.”

“Tabasco,” he informed. “Pearl taught me that, too.”

I frowned. Ten years of missed lessons. Ten years of not

learning how to cook. Of time with what little family I had.

Of being a southerner in the South. With him, Zeb. My heart

throbbed at the thought. “Sad,” I finally said, with another bite

of my dinner. “I missed out on so much.” I paused, sighed. “But

why?” It was the million dollar question. And one I wasn’t any

closer to finding the answer to, it seemed.

“She was protecting you,” he said, mouth full.

“From what?” I asked, my spoon clinking in the bowl.

“Let’s find out.” He hopped out of the bed and flicked on his

computer, which sat on a desk by the window. The printer came

to life next. I joined him and logged in to my email. Minutes

later, the attachments were printing and we’d finished our yummy

dinners.

I read the first half, the notes from when Jeeves had come to

the mansion; Zeb read the second half, the recent stuff. He
huhed

and I
ohed
, both of us shifting in our seats, rifling through it all at

breakneck speed. “Fuck,” I cursed when I’d finished.

“Fuck,” he echoed, a minute later.

“Blackmail,” we both said, eyes wide, shocked that we’d

southeRn FRied
147

reached the same conclusion, seeing as we were reading notes

from many, many years apart.

“You first,” he said, since you were at the beginning.

I propped my pillow up and turned his way. “Well, the notes,

they’re not for Jeeves, I think. He must take them and send

copies or faxes or scans to the Pellinghams. Like weekly briefings.

Granny’s comings and goings. My parents, when they were alive.

He talks about their deaths, the funeral, what was said, who said

it, who was looking after me.”

Zeb nodded. “And the blackmail?”

I nodded and pointed to the page I found it on. “After my

parent’s funeral, he says he doesn’t want to spy anymore, wants

to leave the mansion. Says he’s done enough for them already.

Wants to go back to working at some law firm. Practically begs

for it.” I turned to Zeb again. “Jeeves isn’t a butler; he’s a lawyer.

No wonder he’s always so bitter. What a waste of a life.”

“But what was he being blackmailed for?” Zeb asked. “And

how did the Pellinghams get the information? What a weird

connection.”

I shrugged. “Jeeves doesn’t mention it, just alludes to the fact

that the Pellinghams have something over on him. But it must be

pretty horrible, considering he’s now been a butler for close to

thirty years.” I squelched back a sob. How awful. Even for the

likes of Jeeves. Then I continued. “But the notes, they start off

boring enough, just logs, like I said, but after the funeral, after

then, that’s when Jeeves seems to get antsy, pleading to be able

to leave. But why then?” Suddenly, a cold chill rose up my spine.

Zeb stared at me, sensing what I was thinking. “Your parents,

they died in a car accident, right?”

I nodded, yet again. “Right.”

“Did your Granny ever tell you how it happened?”

I stared at him. “Icy roads. They went into a ditch, smacked

their heads, died instantly, no pain.” The chill spread, my feet

jerking, hair standing on end.

148 Rob Rosen

“Icy roads? In South Carolina?”

I gulped. “It happens, right?”

“Rarely. Very rarely. And Jeeves getting all antsy after the

funeral, he must’ve seen or heard something to the contrary. But

what? And how are we going to find out? It’s been nearly thirty

years, like you said. No way are we going to find the information

on the Internet.” His foot kicked his bowl. But then he snapped

his fingers, smiling all of a sudden. “Hoppin’ John,” he yipped.

“You can’t still be hungry, Zeb. That stuff’s heavy as a brick.”

I backpedaled. “A, uh,
tasty
brick, I mean.”

He socked me one in the arm, playfully. “No. Jake.” I shrugged,

tilted my head like a confused puppy. “Jake!” he repeated, louder.

“His given name is John. He just goes by Jake.”

“Jake? The pool man?” I asked. “What, you’re hungry
and

horny?”

He sighed. “Oh, you don’t know. I forget that you’ve only

been around a short while.”

I frowned. “Yeah, it does seem a lot longer though, doesn’t

it?”

He was all smiles now. “Only in the nicest of ways, Trip,” he

said, patting me in the place he’d just hit me. “Anyway, Jake’s not

mentioned in my section of notes. Plus, he’s not at the mansion

as much as the others. Probably just a worker, like me. Not a spy.”

I patted his thigh. “And you’re going where with all this?”

“Jake’s uncle is the sheriff around here,” he replied, smugly,

arms folded over dense pecs.

It was then that I got what he was getting at. “And we might

not be able to find out about the accident…”

“… but Jake’s uncle can. Seeing as the accident happened in

the same county,” he said, correctly finishing my sentence.

I grinned, then frowned. “But why would Jake want to help

us?”

Again he hit me. “Uh, Trip, need I remind you of that

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149

nickname I keep calling you?”

I giggled. “Thunder Dick?”

The hit repeated. “I’ve never called you that.”

I rubbed my arm, which was now getting red. “Not yet.”

He sighed. “Not yet,
boss
.”

The lightbulb above my head pulsed, shimmering, however

figuratively. “Ah. Boss. Right,” I said. “And you can’t say no to

the boss.”

He smiled, teeth white, eyes crinkled. “Yup. And, besides, we

still have our secret weapon.”

I gave it a tug. “What’s so secret about Thunder Dick?” I

ducked down before he could hit me yet again.

“You’re cute, but frustrating, Trip,” he said, then added,

“Stella. Stella’s our secret weapon. Remember?”

“Stella? The handyman? Woman, I mean?” I scratched my

head. “But she’s gay. And he’s straight. And neither of those

things is much of a secret.”

Thankfully, he sighed rather than hit me. “He’s straight. She’s

bi. Remember? And he likes her, always has. Best guess: he’s so

damn hot and can get any woman he wants.”

I snickered. “Any woman but Stella, the handyman.”

He touched fingertip to nose. “Exactly. And if anyone can get

Jake hoppin’, it’s her.”

It was then I remembered what else he’d already said. “Hey,

you said that Jake wasn’t mentioned in the notes. But who was?”

The nod returned. “Everyone else. Same kind of weekly log

as you saw. Notes on who said what and who went where. Mostly

your granny, but he mentions Roy and Betty, too. Jeeves and

the two of them were all being blackmailed, both of the others

working for your granny and reporting back to Jeeves, who then

reported to the Pellinghams.”

“But what was there to report? Granny tended to her gardens

or drank iced tea on the veranda.”

150 Rob Rosen

He shrugged. “Yep, that about covered it. Only, he also added

that no one in the household heard her saying anything to you

or to Beau.”

“Beau?” I practically shouted.

“Beau,” he echoed. “They all new about him. Only, Jeeves

doesn’t mention what they knew about him. Or if they knew his

relationship to her. Just that they knew he was around. And they

were listening for anything unusual. Anything she said to him or

he said to her, or either one of them to you.”

“And?” I asked.

“Nope, nothing. Not from him or your granny. Not once,

not ever. Whatever it was the Pellinghams were watching out for,

they never got an earful of it from Jeeves.”

I sighed and fell back into the pillow. “But what were they

watching out for? And what did it have to do with me and

Beau? Or my parents, for that matter? And what was everyone

being blackmailed for? And why by the Pellinghams?” My sigh

repeated, my fists slamming into the mattress. “Seems like every

question we come across leads to two more.”

He stroked my hand. “I’m off tomorrow, and Stella doesn’t

work until late in the morning. We’ll call her now and see if she

can come over on her way to the mansion. Then we’ll see about

finding out about your parents. Maybe this all revolves around

them. Or at least your mother and Robert E; that seems like the

only connection I can see.”

He jumped out of the bed, empty bowls in hand, then

returned with his cell phone. He was talking to her a second later.

Then he hung up and jumped back into bed with me.

“She’ll be over in the morning, right?” I asked, praying as

much.

“Yup. Then we’ll see about enlisting her help again. My guess,

she’s not going to be thrilled about the whole seducing Jake

angle.”

I held his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Ah, but you forget

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what they call me.”

He smiled, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Thunder

Dick?”

I nodded. “Well, yes, that.”

“And boss,” he correctly added.

“
Especially
that,” I agreed, praying that Stella would never find

the need to call me Thunder Dick.

§ § § §

Thankfully, that next morning,
boss
was sufficient. That and a

promise to contact Granny’s attorney and change the stipulations

of her will, which she assumed I’d have the ability to do once

the estate went into mine and Beau’s names. Meaning, instead

of being indebted to us for ten years, as Granny had stipulated,

she’d now only have five. Provided she’d be able to get Jake to

contact his uncle and get us information. “Don’t worry,” she said.

“He’ll do it.”

“And we know this how?” I had to ask.

She pushed her ample bosoms together and shot me a sly, if

not disconcerting, wink. “Gets ‘em every time.”

‘Em
not being me or Zeb, who grimaced and forced a nod.

“Uh, yeah. I’m sure,” I said. In any case, she agreed. And we were

in like Flynn. Then we told her everything we’d discovered up

until that point.

“Fucking Pelinghams,” she spat. “Think they own the world.”

“Or at least half of Granny’s staff,” I corrected.

“Which suddenly makes a lot of sense,” she said. “Those three

always did come across as being overly inquisitive, if you ask

me. Always hovering about when your granny was on the phone,

striking up odd conversations that were laden with questions.

I’d hear them, yammering on while I was working on projects.

Just thought it was your granny, eager for a conversation. Now I

know better.”

I hung my head down and exhaled long and low and deep.

152 Rob Rosen

“Sure would like to know what they were up to. What the

Pellinghams have on Jeeves and Roy and Betty. What kind of

information they were looking for from them.”

She smiled, which looked sort of scary. “One mission at a

time,
boss
,” she said, rather cryptically. “But let’s just say I might

have a second plan if the first one works out okay.”

I shrugged. Heck, the first one was terrifying enough.

Because it meant investigating my parent’s death. And I’d barely

gotten used to Granny’s. Meaning, the second I could wait for.

Especially if that smile of hers proved to be as scary as it seemed.

Gave me goosepimples just looking at it.

“Think she can do it?” Zeb asked me, a minute after she

pulled away from his house, both of us standing on his porch

watching her speed down the road.

“You see those tits of hers?” I asked.

He shivered. “I tried not to,” he replied. “But Jake won’t know