Read Online A Cutthroat Business by Jenna Bennett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenna Bennett
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be a connection between LaDonna’s death and Brenda Puckett’s murder.
In the silence that followed, the sound of a car engine, backfiring badly, came closer. Turning, I could see an older model Chevy come bumping down the track. It stopped a few feet away, and the driver’s side door opened with a screech. An African-American woman shoehorned herself out from behind the steering wheel and waddled toward us.
She was about my height and age, and approximately three times my weight. Her breasts were the size of watermelons and she had a behind you could have left a tray of drinks on, with no worries that they’d spill. All of her was poured into a hot pink spandex dress with spaghetti straps, which must have been made for a woman half her size. Her hair was bleached yellow and curled into big, fat sausage curls, and her lips were painted a deep cherry red. She looked like a black drag-queen parody of Shirley Temple. Her eyes were small and half buried in fat, but she managed to give me a dirty look anyway, before turning to Rafe. “Who she?”
He opened his mouth, but I intercepted him. “I’m Savannah Martin. Who are you?”
She didn’t answer, nor give any indication of having heard me. “What you bring her here for?”
“He didn’t bring me,” I said. “I came on my own.”
“What you want with a skinny white chick like that? When you can have Marquita?”
She balanced her weight precariously on one foot and thrust the other ample hip out.
I hid a smile. “You know, I’m going to go. I can see you’ve got your hands full here, Rafe.”
I gave him a patronizing pat on the arm. The muscles under the golden skin were as hard as granite. He cut his eyes to me, but didn’t say a word. Marquita growled deep in her throat, like a Rottweiler. I found myself moving a little faster than usual as I headed for my car.
Chapter 5.
Mom’s birthday party was a big success. Everyone was there: Dix and Sheila and their two kids, Catherine and Jonathan and their three, the rest of the staff from the law office, mom’s best friend Audrey, and of course the society reporter from the local newspaper, also known as my Aunt Regina. She took my picture and promised to put it in her column, to let everyone know that I was a realtor now and would be happy to sell their houses out from under them.
Sheriff Bob Satterfield had released himself from duty for the evening and was present, and so, of course, was his son. Mom met them at the door, passed Bob deftly into Audrey’s capable hands, and snagged Todd’s arm, to escort him straight over to me. Her demeanor was that of a devoted pet presenting her lord and master with a fat rat. “Look, Savannah . Here’s Todd.” She beamed.
“So I see,” I said. “Hi, Todd.”
“ Savannah .” He made something halfway between a cordial nod and a gentlemanly half-bow. We stood in silence for a few seconds.
Mother broke it. “You look very handsome, Todd.”
She smiled. I suppressed an eye-roll. This was really a little too obvious, even for my mother.
Not that she wasn’t correct. Todd did look handsome. At almost 30 he was still lean and had all his hair, and his tall frame was set off to perfection in a gray suit with a blue-gray tie that matched his eyes perfectly. Plus, he’s been brought up to be a Southern gentleman, so he knows how to behave. He bowed over my mother’s hand and told her how beautiful she looked. Which she did. The spa had tinted her hair a lovely champagne color, and she was relaxed and radiant. I hope I look as good on my 58th birthday.
“And you, Savannah ...” Todd turned to me, “you don’t look a day older than you did in high school.”
He leaned in and pecked me on the cheek. I simpered. “Thank you, Todd. That’s so sweet.” Untrue, but sweet.
Mother beamed. “I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.” She patted Todd’s arm and shot me a look that said, as clearly as words, Don’t you screw up this time, Savannah ! I
In the silence that followed, the sound of a car engine, backfiring badly, came closer. Turning, I could see an older model Chevy come bumping down the track. It stopped a few feet away, and the driver’s side door opened with a screech. An African-American woman shoehorned herself out from behind the steering wheel and waddled toward us.
She was about my height and age, and approximately three times my weight. Her breasts were the size of watermelons and she had a behind you could have left a tray of drinks on, with no worries that they’d spill. All of her was poured into a hot pink spandex dress with spaghetti straps, which must have been made for a woman half her size. Her hair was bleached yellow and curled into big, fat sausage curls, and her lips were painted a deep cherry red. She looked like a black drag-queen parody of Shirley Temple. Her eyes were small and half buried in fat, but she managed to give me a dirty look anyway, before turning to Rafe. “Who she?”
He opened his mouth, but I intercepted him. “I’m Savannah Martin. Who are you?”
She didn’t answer, nor give any indication of having heard me. “What you bring her here for?”
“He didn’t bring me,” I said. “I came on my own.”
“What you want with a skinny white chick like that? When you can have Marquita?”
She balanced her weight precariously on one foot and thrust the other ample hip out.
I hid a smile. “You know, I’m going to go. I can see you’ve got your hands full here, Rafe.”
I gave him a patronizing pat on the arm. The muscles under the golden skin were as hard as granite. He cut his eyes to me, but didn’t say a word. Marquita growled deep in her throat, like a Rottweiler. I found myself moving a little faster than usual as I headed for my car.
Chapter 5.
Mom’s birthday party was a big success. Everyone was there: Dix and Sheila and their two kids, Catherine and Jonathan and their three, the rest of the staff from the law office, mom’s best friend Audrey, and of course the society reporter from the local newspaper, also known as my Aunt Regina. She took my picture and promised to put it in her column, to let everyone know that I was a realtor now and would be happy to sell their houses out from under them.
Sheriff Bob Satterfield had released himself from duty for the evening and was present, and so, of course, was his son. Mom met them at the door, passed Bob deftly into Audrey’s capable hands, and snagged Todd’s arm, to escort him straight over to me. Her demeanor was that of a devoted pet presenting her lord and master with a fat rat. “Look, Savannah . Here’s Todd.” She beamed.
“So I see,” I said. “Hi, Todd.”
“ Savannah .” He made something halfway between a cordial nod and a gentlemanly half-bow. We stood in silence for a few seconds.
Mother broke it. “You look very handsome, Todd.”
She smiled. I suppressed an eye-roll. This was really a little too obvious, even for my mother.
Not that she wasn’t correct. Todd did look handsome. At almost 30 he was still lean and had all his hair, and his tall frame was set off to perfection in a gray suit with a blue-gray tie that matched his eyes perfectly. Plus, he’s been brought up to be a Southern gentleman, so he knows how to behave. He bowed over my mother’s hand and told her how beautiful she looked. Which she did. The spa had tinted her hair a lovely champagne color, and she was relaxed and radiant. I hope I look as good on my 58th birthday.
“And you, Savannah ...” Todd turned to me, “you don’t look a day older than you did in high school.”
He leaned in and pecked me on the cheek. I simpered. “Thank you, Todd. That’s so sweet.” Untrue, but sweet.
Mother beamed. “I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.” She patted Todd’s arm and shot me a look that said, as clearly as words, Don’t you screw up this time, Savannah ! I
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