Read Online Dark Waters by Susan Rogers Cooper - Free Book Online Page A

to drink.
    â€˜Vern, honey,’ said the lovely Mrs Crystal Weaver in a sultry Jessica Rabbit voice, ‘you’re embarrassing me, and the boys! Right, boys?’ she said, looking at mostly the teenaged one.
    And he was a sight. Dusty-looking brown hair that needed cutting, a forehead covered in zits, and so skinny you could actually see his bones. He looked down at his plate. The other plates were near empty, like at the end of a meal. The boy’s plate hadn’t been touched.
    â€˜I don’t believe we’ve met your older son,’ I said to Vern.
    â€˜Yeah, and you may not now. He’s acting like a shithead and I’m about to send him to his cabin for the rest of the fuckin’ cruise. Excuse my French, ladies.’
    â€˜This is Joshua,’ Crystal said. ‘Joshua, say hello to Mr and Mrs Kovak.’
    The boy looked up and said, ‘Hey,’ in a voice that was halfway through the change.
    â€˜Please eat, Joshua, honey,’ Crystal said. ‘I would hate for your dad to send you to your cabin.’
    The boy played with his food.
    â€˜It was nice meeting you, Crystal,’ Jean said, ‘and you too, Joshua. But we need to get seated before they give our table away!’ She laughed. It was that tight little laugh she gives off whenever she’s secretly pissed at me but doesn’t want anyone else knowing. It works. The only one who knows is me, and what I did this time I’ll never know.
    We said our goodbyes and headed to our table. ‘Can we sit with Janna and Ryan?’ Johnny Mac asked.
    â€˜No, dear,’ Jean said. ‘There isn’t room at their table, and besides, they’re almost through eating.’
    â€˜Josh isn’t,’ my son said.
    â€˜John,’ Jean said and gave him that look.
    The boy sighed and picked up the menu.
    After we interpreted the menu for them, the boys, being good Oklahoma cattle country young’uns, both ordered steaks and baked potatoes and salads with ranch dressing. When they grow up, they’re both gonna regret giving up this opportunity to partake in some righteous chow they’re not likely to get at home.
    I had an appetizer of marinated beef steak tomatoes with bleu cheese crumbles, a main course of lobster gratin with risotto and baby artichokes, and a dessert of flan with flaming strawberries. And Jean and I shared a bottle of Chardonnay. Not that I know that much about wines, but it tasted OK to me.
    When we finished and left, we found the Tulias with their daughter and the Weaver boys talking with an older couple and two younger women. One of the women was holding the hand of the other little girl we’d met – Lyssa, I think her name was.
    â€˜Oh, Milt, Jean, we want you to meet some people,’ Mike said, grabbing my arm.
    If we’d been in Prophesy County and somebody I didn’t know that well grabbed my arm like that, I’d have a gun under his chin and be reading him his rights in a New York minute. Unfortunately my gun was in the cabin, and this was, I suppose, a social exchange. I tried a smile.
    â€˜These two ladies,’ he said, indicating the younger ones, ‘are Esther Monte – you’ve met her daughter Lyssa, right?’ I nodded. ‘And Rose Connelly and her sons Trip and Jacob. And these two,’ he said, indicating the older couple, ‘are Baker and Linda Connelly, the boys’ grandparents.’
    I shook hands, as did Jean, as Johnny Mac and Early moved over to where Janna and the Weaver boys stood.
    â€˜You’re all traveling together?’ Jean said, a sweep of her arm indicating the whole bunch of ’em.
    The dark-haired Esther Monte laughed. ‘Oops, no, not us,’ she said, her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. ‘We just met Rose and her boys at the pool earlier today. And they asked us to tag along this evening.’
    â€˜Where are y’all off to?’ Mike asked. ‘Vern and