Read Online Blown To Pieces (PTO Murder Club Mystery Book 2) by Katie Graykowski - Free Book Online
Authors: Katie Graykowski
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dinner. I hate to say it, but Monica might be a little more flexible when it comes to food than I am. I have principles—what can I say?
“I’m on the way to pick up Max. I’ll get Landon too and meet you at Ben’s. I’ll text you his address.” There wasn’t a chance in hell that I was telling Ben first. He deserved to be inconvenienced by a couple of extra dinner guests. Knowing Monica, she was going to be that high-maintenance guest that wanted some strange condiment no one had, told the cook the food was good but had a laundry list of suggestions on how to make it great, and at the end of the night just wouldn’t leave...God bless her vengeful heart.
Best friends always have your back. Whether it’s voodoo-dolling cheating exes, ding-dong-ditching hated coworkers, or being bitchy to people who’ve bugged your house, besties are always in your corner.
----
Chapter 7
----
I checked the address and turned onto Ben’s driveway. I pulled up to the closed wrought-iron gate. In other parts of Texas, this gated entrance would have been for a whole neighborhood, but here it was just for Ben’s house.
“Wow.” Max rolled down the window to check out the gate. My little man never ceased to be stunned by the ultra wealthy. I’d ceased a while ago. Excess was the norm around here.
“Yeah, wow.” Landon rolled down his window and hung half of his body out. “Where’s the house?”
“I don’t know.” There were so many oak trees crowded together, it was hard to see much. Rarely did I venture this far into Lakeside, where the lots were lakefront and the houses were estates.
I hit the intercom button on the box next to the gate.
“Hello.” Ben’s voice was tinny and sounded far away.
“Hey, Ben, it’s Mustang.” It appeared that rich people never left the gate open, even when company was expected.
“Hey.” He put a lot of manically happy into such a short word. “Come on up.”
The gate swung open as Monica pulled in behind me.
We drove in together, and I really hoped Ben didn’t have a camera, because I wanted to see the look on his face when he saw Monica.
I pulled up to a contemporary Texas Hill Country two-story with lots of white limestone and chrome and weird angles. It had to be at least ten thousand square feet. By Lakeside standards, it was little more than a fishing cabin. The grounds were straight out of Better Homes and Gardens< /i>, and the house had no doubt graced the cover of Architectural Digest .
Further proof that we had nothing in common. My house was decorated in Early American Garage Sale, while his had probably been done by some snotty French decorator who dealt in obscure antiques that cost more than my car. The only antique I owned was my wagon wheel coffee table—it was an honest-to-God wagon wheel from the 1950s. True, the 1950s weren’t known for their abundance of wagon wheels—but hey, it looked like I had my own obscure antique too.
I opened the car door and stepped out.
“This is fancy,” Monica called from her open car door.
“Okay, boys,” I said over my shoulder, “grab your backpacks. There might be time for homework before dinner is ready.”
“Done, Mom.” Max opened his door and scooted out.
“Me too, Mrs. Ridges. We worked on it in extended care.” Landon slid down onto the driveway. He ran to his mother and hugged her like he hadn’t seen her in years. I miss Max doing that. Now I’m lucky if I get a ’sup nod.
“Good, more playtime.” I locked and closed my door. I really should have thought to bring some of the flowers he’d sent me today. It’s good manners to show up for dinner with gifts. The fact that I would be regifting a gift from Ben was unimportant. If push came to shove, I had some Tic Tacs in my purse. I’d rebrand them as after-dinner mints.
The huge, chrome, double front doors opened, and Ben smiled his way out of the house. “Welcome.” His eyes landed on Monica and Landon and his smile
“I’m on the way to pick up Max. I’ll get Landon too and meet you at Ben’s. I’ll text you his address.” There wasn’t a chance in hell that I was telling Ben first. He deserved to be inconvenienced by a couple of extra dinner guests. Knowing Monica, she was going to be that high-maintenance guest that wanted some strange condiment no one had, told the cook the food was good but had a laundry list of suggestions on how to make it great, and at the end of the night just wouldn’t leave...God bless her vengeful heart.
Best friends always have your back. Whether it’s voodoo-dolling cheating exes, ding-dong-ditching hated coworkers, or being bitchy to people who’ve bugged your house, besties are always in your corner.
----
Chapter 7
----
I checked the address and turned onto Ben’s driveway. I pulled up to the closed wrought-iron gate. In other parts of Texas, this gated entrance would have been for a whole neighborhood, but here it was just for Ben’s house.
“Wow.” Max rolled down the window to check out the gate. My little man never ceased to be stunned by the ultra wealthy. I’d ceased a while ago. Excess was the norm around here.
“Yeah, wow.” Landon rolled down his window and hung half of his body out. “Where’s the house?”
“I don’t know.” There were so many oak trees crowded together, it was hard to see much. Rarely did I venture this far into Lakeside, where the lots were lakefront and the houses were estates.
I hit the intercom button on the box next to the gate.
“Hello.” Ben’s voice was tinny and sounded far away.
“Hey, Ben, it’s Mustang.” It appeared that rich people never left the gate open, even when company was expected.
“Hey.” He put a lot of manically happy into such a short word. “Come on up.”
The gate swung open as Monica pulled in behind me.
We drove in together, and I really hoped Ben didn’t have a camera, because I wanted to see the look on his face when he saw Monica.
I pulled up to a contemporary Texas Hill Country two-story with lots of white limestone and chrome and weird angles. It had to be at least ten thousand square feet. By Lakeside standards, it was little more than a fishing cabin. The grounds were straight out of Better Homes and Gardens< /i>, and the house had no doubt graced the cover of Architectural Digest .
Further proof that we had nothing in common. My house was decorated in Early American Garage Sale, while his had probably been done by some snotty French decorator who dealt in obscure antiques that cost more than my car. The only antique I owned was my wagon wheel coffee table—it was an honest-to-God wagon wheel from the 1950s. True, the 1950s weren’t known for their abundance of wagon wheels—but hey, it looked like I had my own obscure antique too.
I opened the car door and stepped out.
“This is fancy,” Monica called from her open car door.
“Okay, boys,” I said over my shoulder, “grab your backpacks. There might be time for homework before dinner is ready.”
“Done, Mom.” Max opened his door and scooted out.
“Me too, Mrs. Ridges. We worked on it in extended care.” Landon slid down onto the driveway. He ran to his mother and hugged her like he hadn’t seen her in years. I miss Max doing that. Now I’m lucky if I get a ’sup nod.
“Good, more playtime.” I locked and closed my door. I really should have thought to bring some of the flowers he’d sent me today. It’s good manners to show up for dinner with gifts. The fact that I would be regifting a gift from Ben was unimportant. If push came to shove, I had some Tic Tacs in my purse. I’d rebrand them as after-dinner mints.
The huge, chrome, double front doors opened, and Ben smiled his way out of the house. “Welcome.” His eyes landed on Monica and Landon and his smile
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