Southern Fried (24 page)

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Authors: Rob Rosen

Tags: #MLR Press LLC; Print format ISBN# 978-1-60820-435-9; ebook format ISBN#978-1-60820-436-6, #Gay, #General, #Romance, #Erotica, #Fiction

BOOK: Southern Fried
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what hit him.”

Which is just what happened.

Only, not how any of us were expecting.

§ § § §

They came knocking later that day, just before the sun dipped

into the horizon, the sky a brilliantly gay pink, Zeb and I tanning

out back, which is about all we’d manage to accomplish. No

judgments, please. And, yes, I said
they
.

Zeb answered the door, with me close behind him. “Oh, uh,

hi, Stella. Hi, Jake.”

She barged in. “Cut the crap; he knows.”

“What, uh, what do you mean?” I asked, moving aside, the

four of us in the living room as Zeb shut the door behind them.

“The tits didn’t work,” she practically growled.

Jake snickered. “Well, mostly.” A faint flush of red spread up

his neck.

“Mostly,” she echoed, though I could’ve sworn I detected a

southeRn FRied
153

slight smile. “But the
boss
thing did. And we already lost one this

week; two wouldn’t do any of us any good.”

“Least of all me, the boss,” I couldn’t help but make note.

They all nodded. “Anyway,” she continued, “he wouldn’t go

to his uncle until I told him the back story, what led us to the

line of questioning. Besides, he loved your granny, despite his

outburst at the reading of the funeral. The two of them were

drinking buddies. Why else would he need to clean the pool five

days a week when no one swam in it?” She walked across the

room and fell into the couch. “The two of them drank iced tea

and bourbon half the day.”

Jake nodded and sat next to her.
Closely
next to her. “I loved

your granny, Trip. She was like family to me, and I want to help.”

Her nod mirrored his, a smile looming on her horizon as the

sun finally disappeared into its. “In fact, he already has.”

My heart skipped a beat. And not the happy kind of skipping

either; more like a lightning bolt to the chest kind, searing through

me all of a sudden. “He called his uncle?” I asked.

The pair of them nodded. “I told him you were writing a

book and just needed the facts,” Jake told us.

“And?” I asked, with a gulp as Zeb held my hand.

“And,” he continued, “he’s going to call me with them when

he gets off work.” He looked at his watch. “In about ten minutes

or so.”

Zeb knew what that meant. And it didn’t bode well for me,

because, “Peach brandy?” he asked, figuring that would take the

edge off as he headed for the kitchen. See, not good. Not good

at all. Seriously, that shit is nasty. Both glasses of it that I drank.

Already starting in on the third when Jake’s cellphone rang, my

heart skipping, yet again. Which couldn’t have been healthy for

it, really.

He answered, said hello, listened, uh-huhed, hung up. A two

minute conversation that I knew would forever change my life.

Two minutes before I exhaled. “Well?” I asked, expectantly.

154 Rob Rosen

He looked from Stella to Zeb and back to me, eyes wide.

“Um,” he managed, scratching his chin, knee bouncing. “Um.”

“You said that already,” I blurted out, pacing now.

“I know,” he said. “It’s just that it’s not good news. And I

don’t know you well enough, or at all, and I’m um-ing. Okay?”

“Okay, I said. “Still, please tell me anyway.” I gulped down the

rest of the peach brandy and found a chair to sit on. “Go.”

He paused. “Your parents,” he said, almost in a whisper.

“They died in a car accident.”

Again I exhaled. “I know that,” I whispered back, my voice

shaking.

He paused again. Nodded. Knee bouncing again. “Yeah, well,

but not from skidding on ice. In fact, it wasn’t even raining. Or

all that cold, it seems.” Again he paused, clearly uncomfortable.

Then he sighed and let it fly. “Their car exploded.”

Any my skipping heart stopped completely. “An accidental

explosion?” I managed.

He just shook his head. “The report said it looked suspicious.

Like the wiring had been tampered with. But it was hard to tell.

The fire was too strong, too hot, melted everything together. Still,

they investigated it like it was a… a, uh…”

“Murder,” I said, finishing his train of thought, the word

causing my world to drop out from beneath me.

“Double homicide,” he said. “Hush-hush investigation,

seeing as who your grandparents were, and how tongues wag

around these parts.”

“Meaning, no one ever heard anything,” I reiterated. “So I

never heard it either. Until now.” Zeb came over and put his hand

on my shoulder. I leaned my head on it. “And let me guess,” I

continued. “They never found out for sure if it was an accident

or not. Or who could’ve done it.”

He didn’t agree. Not right away. “Only one suspect, in fact,”

he replied, head tilted down now, staring at the floor. Anywhere

but at me. “Only one person who had access to the car just

southeRn FRied
155

before… uh, just before.”

I gulped, my anger rising. “The chauffeur,” I said. “Jeeves.”

“Walter, right,” he said. “But he had an alibi.”

“Which was?” I asked, my eyes closed, squinting tightly

together.

He sighed. “Robert E. Pellingham. His roommate in college

and again in law school.”

My eyes popped open. “What a coincidence,” I grumbled.

But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Not by a fucking long shot.

ChAPteR 10
Collard Greens

“We’ll just need disguises,” Stella said, a few minutes after the

shock of Jake’s report had worn off. Uh, mostly off. This was

her dreaded second plan, as if we hadn’t had enough of those

already. She’d already unleashed it on us. Twice. And it made me

queasy listening to it both times. “You don’t happen to have any

on hand, do you?”

“Disguises?” I asked, trying, and failing, to suppress a shiteatin’ grin.

“What’s with the shit-eatin’ grin?” she asked.

Zeb elbowed me in the ribs. “Nothing. He just, uh, likes

disguises, is all,” he explained. “And I, uh, I think we might have

some handy. Somewhere. Handy.”

Jake sighed. “Please don’t tell us. If those smiles are any

indication, we don’t want to know the details. So just get them

and let’s get a move on.” He rolled his hands, one over the other,

indicating that we should hurry.

“But what about you?” I asked. “Stella makes sense, us in

disguise makes sense, but you, you don’t make a bit of sense. And

they might know you. In fact, I’m sure they will, what with all the

spying they’ve been doing all this time.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Stella and I both have our own

businesses. In fact, we both have other clients in common already,

besides your granny.”

She nodded. “He’s right. He cleans the pool; I build the pool

house.”

Zeb piped in next, and rather too quickly for my liking. “Dibs

on being Jake’s assistant.”

And now it was my turn to elbow
him
in the ribs. “And what

158 Rob Rosen

do you know about cleaning pools?”

“I’ve cleaned my bathtub before,” he replied. “A pool is just,

uh, a really big bathtub, right?”

Jake merely sighed, yet again. “No one’s cleaning pools, you

two. Or building pool houses. That’s just a ruse to get us inside.

So we can look around. And hopefully find the key to this whole

mess. If Jeeves was sending in reports, then they must have some

sort of file, something that will point us to the answer.”

“Right,” Stella agreed. “And I already called Robert E.’s office;

he’s in court all day. The only ones at the house right now are the

help, if anybody.”

I scratched my head. “But why would the help just let us in?”

Jake smiled, so bright it was a wonder we didn’t go instantly

blind. Or hard. Take your pick. He reached inside his back pocket

and handed me a sheet of paper. “Yeah, we thought of that,” he

replied, waiting for me to read it.

“It’s a contract,” I said, handing it back to him. “When did

you get a contract to do work for Robert E.?” He sighed. Stella

sighed. Even my loving boyfriend sighed. “Oh,” I ohed. “You

didn’t. It’s a, um, it’s a fake contract.”

“Bravo, Einstein,” said Jake.

“Boss,” I reminded him, though I was still holding on to

Thunder Dick.

“Bravo,
boss
,” he said. “And they’ll never know. We just hand

it to them, keep them busy, and snoop around.”

“Who does what?” I couldn’t help but ask.

He shrugged. “Let’s just get in; then we’ll see how it goes

from there.”

“Sounds like a Plan B-minus,” I tossed in.

“Why?” he asked. “What could go wrong?”

Yes, yes, I know. My head was swimming at that remark,

too. Still, he was awfully pretty when he said it, so I chose to

ignore him. Though what could go wrong went wrong almost

southeRn FRied
159

immediately. And, no, I didn’t mean the reappearance of our drag

alter-egos.

“You’re kidding?” Stella coughed, when we came out a short

while later.


Those
are your disguises?” Jake asked.

Zeb frowned. “What kind of disguises were the both of you

thinking of?”

Stella tried to stifle a laugh. Though she didn’t try very hard.

“Uh, hats and sunglasses, maybe a fake moustache?”

I looked to Zeb and he looked at me. “Oh,” we both said, in

unison.

Jake stood up and walked to the door. “Yeah, oh,” he said,

making his way outside, with Stella close behind. “Come on,

Thelma and Louise,” he hollered over his shoulder.

“Portia and Marlene,” I yelled back, the two of us running

after them, high heels clacking as we made our way to Zeb’s car.

Well, teetered was more like it. Hopefully, that old rule held true:

drag queens wobble, but they don’t fall down.

Anyway, that thing that went wrong almost immediately,

well, here’s the immediately. As in, Port
immediately
greeted us

at the door, and not the hired help. As in, handing him a fake

contract would’ve
immediately
got us landed in jail, or worse. As

in, we
immediately
needed a third plan. And guess what we didn’t

immediately
have?

Yep, smart guess.

Though our rain cloud had a silver lining. And, yes, as it

turned out, we weren’t the only ones who noticed that Jake was

so awfully pretty.

“Well, howdy do,” said Port, ogling our pool boy, southern

drawl dripping out of his gaping maw like honey from a bee’s ass.

“Uh, howdy,” said Jake, clearly out of his element. Because,

need I remind you, he was now surrounded by three gay men,

two of which were in drag, and one handyman woman. It was

more like happy hour at
The Stud
. “We, uh, we were, uh…”

160 Rob Rosen

Thankfully, Stella came to the rescue. “We’re expanding our

business and visiting the finer homes in the neighborhood.” She

handed him her card. “We do general contractor work, light

construction, pool maintenance, landscaping, and the like.” She

craned her neck from side to side and up and down. “Your home

is lovely; we’d like to make it even lovelier.”

But if Port was listening, he wasn’t showing it. In fact, his

eyes were glued to Jake, never once blinking. Disturbing, if not

downright beneficial. For us, I mean. Well, us minus Jake. Who

we quickly sacrificed like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Our coworker, Jake, here,” I piped in, “does wonders with

a pool.”

The spell was broken with a blink, then two, from our host.

“He does, does he?” Port stroked his chin while he leaned against

the door frame. “Just so happens, we’re having problems with our

pool. Nasty algae infestation. Would you like to take a look at it?”

Picture the big, bad wolf, and you wouldn’t be far off the mark.

And, luckily for us, he didn’t recognize Little Red Ridinghood,

namely his past trick, Zeb. Meaning, our disguises had worked.

Phew
.

“Uh, sure,” replied Jake. “That would be great. And maybe

my associates can have a look around, draw up a list of projects

we could discuss.”

But again, we were obviously invisible, waved away like a bad

odor as Port led Jake inside. “Right this way, Jake,” he cooed.

“The pool is back here.” And speaking of backs, that’s just where

Port’s hand was, on Jake’s back. Lower back. As in just above his

shapely ass. The lamb, it seemed, was getting felt up.

In any case, the three of us stood inside now, closing the door

behind us. “We’ll just have a look around,” I said, my voice falling

on deaf ears. “You two go right on ahead,” I whispered, feeling

just a tad bit guilty about my pool boy. “Now what?” I added,

when they were out of sight.

“Now we split up,” said Stella, handing us each some paper

and a pen. “Just pretend you’re taking measurements if someone

southeRn FRied
161

should see you. Close and lock doors whenever you can. Meet

back here in thirty minutes, just to be on the safe side.”

And so that’s what we did. I went upstairs, Stella toward the

kitchen, Zeb for the rear of the house. Place was big, too, but

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