Read Online Running From Mercy by Terra Little - Free Book Online Page B

the oldest is damn near grown now and the baby is eleven, so they ain’t babies no more, thank goodness. They’re good, though. You know I hated to hear about Paris.”
    â€œThanks.” She remembered Miles and motioned across the table in his direction.
    â€œYou remember Miss Moira, Peach? This is her stepson, David. He says he’s in here all the time.”
    â€œHe sure is. You want the sourdough melt with homefries, right?” Her pen was poised to scribble.
    â€œRight,” Miles said, smiling. She scribbled his order down and turned to Pam expectantly.
    â€œDoes Willie still do that patty melt on marble rye with the Irish potatoes?”
    â€œSure does, but I thought I read somewhere that you was a vegetarian?”
    â€œThat story was in the same rag that reported finding Martians living in the White House, Peach. You know better than that. There probably are a few little green men hiding in the bowels of our nation’s capitol, but you know I need my burger fix.”
    â€œSo you really didn’t marry that African man so he could stay in the country?”
    Pam cringed good-naturedly. Miles thought she did an admirable job of covering her irritation. “The African guy was a musician. He did the track for one of my songs, and his wife and I were pleased with the results. A lot of that shit they print is lies.”
    â€œOh,” Peaches looked stumped for a moment. Then she grinned. “I don’t suppose I could get an autograph for my daughter, could I? She loves your new CD.”
    â€œI’d love to Peach, but I may not be able to keep my hand steady long enough to write. I’m starting to shake from lack of sustenance. Help a sista out and bring me some food, huh? I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign, just please feed me.”
    Miles watched Peaches move away, then folded his hands on the table. “So what was the real deal with the music producer?” He was referring to another one of the rampant rumors in which Pam had been featured. This one, he knew, had a little more truth to it than most, but he wanted to gauge her reaction.
    â€œNot you too, David? I’m supposed to be hiding out here.”
    â€œFrom the mean old folks?”
    â€œThem and the press. Between the two extremes, I don’t know which is worse.”
    â€œWhich reminds me. Melva Howard still thinks you were the ruination of her son. Junebug, I believe she said his name was.”
    A while later, Pam picked up the water glass Peaches set in front of her and took a sip. Done mulling over the accusation, she said, “Gregory Howard was gay long before I got hold to him. All I did was encourage him to be who he really was. It’s not my fault he’s a male stripper now, is it? Hell, he looks better in full makeup than I do, and he was the one who taught me how to use liquid eyeliner.” Melva Howard was full of shit.
    His eyes skimmed her freshly scrubbed face lightly. “I just thought you should know what they were saying in the beauty salon before you went to get a haircut or something and got blindsided.”
    â€œMelva Howard can be the first in line to kiss my ass. What were you doing in the beauty salon anyway?”
    â€œPicking Moira up. I borrowed one of your CDs from her and listened to it last night,” he told her. Peaches brought their food and he dumped a mound of ketchup on a corner of his plate, soaked a fry. “I was pleasantly surprised.”
    â€œMoira has one of my CDs?” Moira was every bit of seventy-five, if she was a day.
    â€œAll six of them, and I think a poster or two.”
    â€œHmm. And you turned off your classical music long enough to listen to my stuff?” She picked up half of her sandwich, took a big bite, and chewed slowly. Nobody did a burger like Willie. Here was another thing she had truly missed in all her years away.
    â€œYes, I did. Why does that surprise you? Almost half of your