Read Online Hotter than Helen (The "Bobby's Diner" Series) by Susan Wingate - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Wingate
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anyone. I’ll deny it.” She laughed once.
“I guess I have my work cut out for me.”
“I guess.” Roberta concurred.
“Okay, so, first thing. Call the realtor and cancel my listing.”
“Yep.”
“Second. Take a cruise. Meet some tan muscle boy, let him help me lift weights.”
“Okay. Stop. Gross.”
“I’m just talkin’ a little exercise, Roberta. You know, squeeze and tug and squeeze and …”
“Gross. I’m leaving.”
“No, don’t. I’m joking, but I do need to get out for a week, like you said.” She nodded and picked up her coffee from the floor. “A cruise? Kinda sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
“You left out something.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to call Helen.”
“No.”
“Georgette. If for no other reason than to let her know how she ruined things for you.”
“I’m sure she knows that without me speaking with her.”
“You will always wish you had told her. It will gnaw at you until you die.”
Georgette looked at Roberta. She wasn’t sure if she was speaking from her own personal feelings or if it was something Vanessa had said one time in her past. Their eyes locked. She didn’t need to know. She could see the truth behind her words and heard Vanessa’s pain speaking to her, even through Roberta’s eyes.
“I will try. That’s all I can say.”
Roberta patted her knee and rose. She looked at Georgette, then behind her.
“Your cat wants back out.”
“That cat is my exercise. I mean.” As Georgette rose Roberta held out a hand to help. “Thanks, honey.” She grabbed her around the waist and hugged her. “For everything. For talking me down.”
“Anytime.” Then she pulled back and Georgette walked to the French door.
“Go, you little monster.” She closed the door behind him.
“Just so you know. I mean, if you hear.” Roberta ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve been trying to reach Helen myself.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons. Anyway, she hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
“The chicken.”
“Yeah, well. If you talk to her, tell her I need to talk with her too.”
“This is my fight, Roberta.”
“Yes, it is. You’re my only family outside of Rick and you know what? I get to have my say as well. Just tell her I’m next.”
“Okay, dear. But you really don’t have to.”
“Oh, but, Georgie… I really do.”
17
Helen saw Georgette’s car at the diner and knew she wouldn’t be home.
Helen jabbed her fingers into the soil of the planter, searching. Georgette had left the extra key in the pot just like she had before Helen moved away from Sunnydale, just like when she moved back.
Wiping peat and soil off her hand, Helen’s eyes darted behind her, across the street and down the road, to see if anyone was watching. Shaking the last few crumbs of dirt off, she angled the key into the lock. When she looked down at her hands as they moved, she could see a line of swollen skin under her eyelid. Her cheek was thick from the night before, a night she’d spent crying. Her skin flushed beet red, a color that had not subsided even after the cold shower at the hotel. She had thrown on her clothing and hadn’t time or energy to blow dry her hair, causing a reaction of electrostatic sprigs to dance around her face and stick to her skin like cobwebs, reminding her of Medusa and her snake-laden skull.
She flopped her sunglasses from on top of her head to back down over her eyes. After unlocking the door, Helen jammed the key back again into the plant’s soil and slipped inside Georgette’s house.
As usual, hearing the door slam and the lock flipping into position, Gangster came running into the kitchen. He sat on the floor whipping his tail back and forth and watching Helen scurry around.
She trotted to the cupboard where Georgette kept her antacid. She popped two, three, then four into her mouth and munched them fast, swallowing them and gulping down a cold-water chaser. This whole mess with Pinzer and Biggs had
“I guess I have my work cut out for me.”
“I guess.” Roberta concurred.
“Okay, so, first thing. Call the realtor and cancel my listing.”
“Yep.”
“Second. Take a cruise. Meet some tan muscle boy, let him help me lift weights.”
“Okay. Stop. Gross.”
“I’m just talkin’ a little exercise, Roberta. You know, squeeze and tug and squeeze and …”
“Gross. I’m leaving.”
“No, don’t. I’m joking, but I do need to get out for a week, like you said.” She nodded and picked up her coffee from the floor. “A cruise? Kinda sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
“You left out something.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to call Helen.”
“No.”
“Georgette. If for no other reason than to let her know how she ruined things for you.”
“I’m sure she knows that without me speaking with her.”
“You will always wish you had told her. It will gnaw at you until you die.”
Georgette looked at Roberta. She wasn’t sure if she was speaking from her own personal feelings or if it was something Vanessa had said one time in her past. Their eyes locked. She didn’t need to know. She could see the truth behind her words and heard Vanessa’s pain speaking to her, even through Roberta’s eyes.
“I will try. That’s all I can say.”
Roberta patted her knee and rose. She looked at Georgette, then behind her.
“Your cat wants back out.”
“That cat is my exercise. I mean.” As Georgette rose Roberta held out a hand to help. “Thanks, honey.” She grabbed her around the waist and hugged her. “For everything. For talking me down.”
“Anytime.” Then she pulled back and Georgette walked to the French door.
“Go, you little monster.” She closed the door behind him.
“Just so you know. I mean, if you hear.” Roberta ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve been trying to reach Helen myself.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons. Anyway, she hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
“The chicken.”
“Yeah, well. If you talk to her, tell her I need to talk with her too.”
“This is my fight, Roberta.”
“Yes, it is. You’re my only family outside of Rick and you know what? I get to have my say as well. Just tell her I’m next.”
“Okay, dear. But you really don’t have to.”
“Oh, but, Georgie… I really do.”
17
Helen saw Georgette’s car at the diner and knew she wouldn’t be home.
Helen jabbed her fingers into the soil of the planter, searching. Georgette had left the extra key in the pot just like she had before Helen moved away from Sunnydale, just like when she moved back.
Wiping peat and soil off her hand, Helen’s eyes darted behind her, across the street and down the road, to see if anyone was watching. Shaking the last few crumbs of dirt off, she angled the key into the lock. When she looked down at her hands as they moved, she could see a line of swollen skin under her eyelid. Her cheek was thick from the night before, a night she’d spent crying. Her skin flushed beet red, a color that had not subsided even after the cold shower at the hotel. She had thrown on her clothing and hadn’t time or energy to blow dry her hair, causing a reaction of electrostatic sprigs to dance around her face and stick to her skin like cobwebs, reminding her of Medusa and her snake-laden skull.
She flopped her sunglasses from on top of her head to back down over her eyes. After unlocking the door, Helen jammed the key back again into the plant’s soil and slipped inside Georgette’s house.
As usual, hearing the door slam and the lock flipping into position, Gangster came running into the kitchen. He sat on the floor whipping his tail back and forth and watching Helen scurry around.
She trotted to the cupboard where Georgette kept her antacid. She popped two, three, then four into her mouth and munched them fast, swallowing them and gulping down a cold-water chaser. This whole mess with Pinzer and Biggs had
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