Read Online Falling Star by Diana Dempsey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Diana Dempsey
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, Chick lit, Humorous, Humorous fiction, Romance, Historical, Contemporary, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Adult, Contemporary Romance, Travel, Love Stories, Women's Fiction, Television Journalists, Los Angeles (Calif.), pacific, free, West, pageturner, tv news, fast read, Television News Anchors - California - Los Angeles
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two for what
looked to be the dining room. She looked down at the stone in her
hand, then back at the first window on the left.
Then she threw it, fast and hard.
Right in the kisser. The rock sliced through
the window as if it were made for the job, then skidded along the
hardwood floor inside. The impact set off a shrill alarm.
"You coming out, Miles?" she screamed. Then
she raced back to the rock pile and selected the next stone for its
greater heft. That one she smashed through the window just right of
the one she'd already broken. This time all the glass in the frame
fell to the hardwood with a satisfying crash. The third she aimed
at a smaller window in opaque glass, probably the window for a half
bath.
After that, she lost count, lost all track of
sense and time, until she paused, panting, her shoulder sore from
hurling rocks the size of canteloupes. Trembling she raised her
left hand to stare at her ring finger, winking with her platinum
wedding band and diamond engagement ring. Without a second thought
she wrenched them over her knuckle and flung them through the
largest broken window, exulting in the tinny clatter they made as
they skipped along the hardwood. "Pawn them, why don't you, you
bastardl" she shrieked. It was then that she noticed a middle-aged
Hispanic woman standing at the other end of the driveway, a white
plastic grocery bag dangling from each hand, calmly watching
her.
The women stared at each other for a moment.
Then the Hispanic woman shrugged. "I think he'll get the message,
missus."
CHAPTER FOUR
Tuesday, June 18, 7:52 PM
Kelly pushed out her breath for her final
sit-up. Two hundred. She grunted and sank back against the
rust-colored shag carpet in her shoe box of an apartment.
It was almost eight, so Howard would be by
shortly. Great. She'd have two workouts that day: the usual plus an
extra to placate her shit-for-brains managing editor.
But it had to be done. He was mad at her and
she had to get him over it. After all, as managing editor Howard
had a lot to say about assignments. And assignments dictated
airtime.
Reluctantly she heaved herself to her feet
and over to the fridge. She pulled out a Gatorade and propped the
door open with her hip, enjoying the deliciously cold air as it
wafted over her flushed skin. Absently she looked around. From the
kitchen she could see almost all of her one-bedroom unit, housed in
a mammoth West Los Angeles complex. Her apartment was on the sixth
floor of Number Four Tower, all of them vying for Most Nondescript.
Even the interior screamed generic. Almost everybody who lived
there was single: hordes of newly divorced men prowled the laundry
and workout rooms all hours of the day and night. She felt like she
should be living in a snazzier place—shouldn't a TV reporter be
living in a snazzier place?—but in L.A. housing prices were
sky-high. It just had to do until she could get a house, and who
knew when that would be. She wasn't exactly good at saving for a
down payment.
Kelly twisted the cap back on the Gatorade
and jammed the almost empty bottle back on a shelf crowded with
diet sodas, abruptly deciding she wouldn't shower. Why bother?
Howard liked her sweaty and no doubt he'd get a rise out of her
current getup: short shorts and a strappy midriff-baring tee. And
who needed a bra? Not a 24-year-old with implants.
Kelly loosed her brunette hair from its
rubber band and plumped it with her fingers, reviewing the day's
events. Not good. Susan and Eric Mann, the parents of
Darryl-the-car-crash-victim, somehow had seen her piece. Meaning
they'd seen the blood-and-guts video. Meaning they knew she hadn't
mentioned that their kid had died.
Just her luck! Tony and Ruth and Howard had
some big powwow about what they'd do if the Manns sued the station
but Kelly had managed to dodge it, which was what had pissed Howard
off. She snorted. As if the Manns had a leg to stand on!
The doorbell buzzed. Showtime.
She opened the door a
looked to be the dining room. She looked down at the stone in her
hand, then back at the first window on the left.
Then she threw it, fast and hard.
Right in the kisser. The rock sliced through
the window as if it were made for the job, then skidded along the
hardwood floor inside. The impact set off a shrill alarm.
"You coming out, Miles?" she screamed. Then
she raced back to the rock pile and selected the next stone for its
greater heft. That one she smashed through the window just right of
the one she'd already broken. This time all the glass in the frame
fell to the hardwood with a satisfying crash. The third she aimed
at a smaller window in opaque glass, probably the window for a half
bath.
After that, she lost count, lost all track of
sense and time, until she paused, panting, her shoulder sore from
hurling rocks the size of canteloupes. Trembling she raised her
left hand to stare at her ring finger, winking with her platinum
wedding band and diamond engagement ring. Without a second thought
she wrenched them over her knuckle and flung them through the
largest broken window, exulting in the tinny clatter they made as
they skipped along the hardwood. "Pawn them, why don't you, you
bastardl" she shrieked. It was then that she noticed a middle-aged
Hispanic woman standing at the other end of the driveway, a white
plastic grocery bag dangling from each hand, calmly watching
her.
The women stared at each other for a moment.
Then the Hispanic woman shrugged. "I think he'll get the message,
missus."
CHAPTER FOUR
Tuesday, June 18, 7:52 PM
Kelly pushed out her breath for her final
sit-up. Two hundred. She grunted and sank back against the
rust-colored shag carpet in her shoe box of an apartment.
It was almost eight, so Howard would be by
shortly. Great. She'd have two workouts that day: the usual plus an
extra to placate her shit-for-brains managing editor.
But it had to be done. He was mad at her and
she had to get him over it. After all, as managing editor Howard
had a lot to say about assignments. And assignments dictated
airtime.
Reluctantly she heaved herself to her feet
and over to the fridge. She pulled out a Gatorade and propped the
door open with her hip, enjoying the deliciously cold air as it
wafted over her flushed skin. Absently she looked around. From the
kitchen she could see almost all of her one-bedroom unit, housed in
a mammoth West Los Angeles complex. Her apartment was on the sixth
floor of Number Four Tower, all of them vying for Most Nondescript.
Even the interior screamed generic. Almost everybody who lived
there was single: hordes of newly divorced men prowled the laundry
and workout rooms all hours of the day and night. She felt like she
should be living in a snazzier place—shouldn't a TV reporter be
living in a snazzier place?—but in L.A. housing prices were
sky-high. It just had to do until she could get a house, and who
knew when that would be. She wasn't exactly good at saving for a
down payment.
Kelly twisted the cap back on the Gatorade
and jammed the almost empty bottle back on a shelf crowded with
diet sodas, abruptly deciding she wouldn't shower. Why bother?
Howard liked her sweaty and no doubt he'd get a rise out of her
current getup: short shorts and a strappy midriff-baring tee. And
who needed a bra? Not a 24-year-old with implants.
Kelly loosed her brunette hair from its
rubber band and plumped it with her fingers, reviewing the day's
events. Not good. Susan and Eric Mann, the parents of
Darryl-the-car-crash-victim, somehow had seen her piece. Meaning
they'd seen the blood-and-guts video. Meaning they knew she hadn't
mentioned that their kid had died.
Just her luck! Tony and Ruth and Howard had
some big powwow about what they'd do if the Manns sued the station
but Kelly had managed to dodge it, which was what had pissed Howard
off. She snorted. As if the Manns had a leg to stand on!
The doorbell buzzed. Showtime.
She opened the door a
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