Read Online Savannah Reid 12 - Fat Free and Fatal by G. A. McKevett - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: G. A. McKevett
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coffee wafting from the kitchen. She expected to see Tammy sitting at the computer, but she hadn’t arrived yet. So Savannah was momentarily puzzled as to who might have made coffee. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she was pretty sure she could smell toast, too.
When she entered the kitchen, she saw her sister standing at the counter, slathering butter and peach preserves on bread, a big sappy grin on her face.
Savannah wasn’t a morning “grinner” and didn’t tolerate cheerfulness very gracefully until at least ten o’clock.
Noon, if she’d been up late the night before.
As she had been last night.
After her initial huff off to the kitchen with the brownies, she had managed to adjust her attitude and had allowed them to spend the night. They’d made no lodging reservations and the seaside, vacation town of San Carmelita wasn’t the sort of place where you could get a motel room on short notice. Not realizing this, a lot of naive tourists wound up sleeping in their cars, parked on the beaches on weekend nights. And Savannah had investigated too many robberies over the years, which had occurred under exactly those circumstances, to turn her kin over to the bad guys.
Even if they did look more like the bad guys than the law-abiding ones.
There was the added bonus that they wouldn’t be roaming the beach, scaring away the local tourist trade and frightening small children.
Yes, Savannah considered it her civic duty to keep her weird relatives contained.
“What are you up to?” she asked with subdued interest as she rummaged in the cupboard for her favorite Minnie Mouse mug. Then she realized it was already on the counter, next to the Mickey mug. Both were already brimming with coffee and thick cream, and something told her that Jesup hadn’t poured either of them for her.
“I’m making breakfast for the first time for my new husband,” Jesup said. “I’m going to impress him by taking it to him and serving him in bed.”
“Well, ain’t that nice?” Savannah settled for the Snow White mug, which had a picture of the witch handing Snow a poisoned apple.
Briefly she considered putting chocolate-flavored laxative in a fudge cake and feeding it to her houseguests that night. If she couldn’t get them to take their honeymoon elsewhere, it might be a plan.
But after she had swallowed several slugs of the thick, rich brew, her spirits began to lift slightly. And as she watched her sister smearing on the preserves with what could only be described as schmaltzy attention to detail, her heart softened.
Without her ghastly makeup, Jesup was, once again, her little sister.
Jess had always been the “runt of the litter,” shorter and slighter of build than the rest of the Reid clan, who tended more toward the robust. “Horizontally gifted” was how Savannah liked to think of it. But Jess was barely over five feet tall, more than a head shorter than Savannah. And she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds, even considering the metal studs that sprouted from her ears, lips, tongue…and probably a lot of other places that Savannah didn’t want to know about.
But without the gel spikes in her hair, it fell in soft ringlets, framing her delicate, heart-shaped face. Her eyes were the same startlingly blue shade as Savannah’s, and her complexion was the traditional Reid combination of peaches-and-cream perfection.
Savannah had lain awake for hours the night before wondering if drug addiction was part of this new culture of hers, not to mention the horrors of “cutting” and self-mutilation that some of that culture espoused.
But Jesup’s skin and eyes were clear and bright, and there were no marks of any kind on her arms, which were totally exposed by the men’s sleeveless undershirt she was wearing.
She was also wearing men’s boxers, which were black with white skulls and crossbones.
Probably knucklehead’s knickers , Savannah figured. She had already decided—in the future,
When she entered the kitchen, she saw her sister standing at the counter, slathering butter and peach preserves on bread, a big sappy grin on her face.
Savannah wasn’t a morning “grinner” and didn’t tolerate cheerfulness very gracefully until at least ten o’clock.
Noon, if she’d been up late the night before.
As she had been last night.
After her initial huff off to the kitchen with the brownies, she had managed to adjust her attitude and had allowed them to spend the night. They’d made no lodging reservations and the seaside, vacation town of San Carmelita wasn’t the sort of place where you could get a motel room on short notice. Not realizing this, a lot of naive tourists wound up sleeping in their cars, parked on the beaches on weekend nights. And Savannah had investigated too many robberies over the years, which had occurred under exactly those circumstances, to turn her kin over to the bad guys.
Even if they did look more like the bad guys than the law-abiding ones.
There was the added bonus that they wouldn’t be roaming the beach, scaring away the local tourist trade and frightening small children.
Yes, Savannah considered it her civic duty to keep her weird relatives contained.
“What are you up to?” she asked with subdued interest as she rummaged in the cupboard for her favorite Minnie Mouse mug. Then she realized it was already on the counter, next to the Mickey mug. Both were already brimming with coffee and thick cream, and something told her that Jesup hadn’t poured either of them for her.
“I’m making breakfast for the first time for my new husband,” Jesup said. “I’m going to impress him by taking it to him and serving him in bed.”
“Well, ain’t that nice?” Savannah settled for the Snow White mug, which had a picture of the witch handing Snow a poisoned apple.
Briefly she considered putting chocolate-flavored laxative in a fudge cake and feeding it to her houseguests that night. If she couldn’t get them to take their honeymoon elsewhere, it might be a plan.
But after she had swallowed several slugs of the thick, rich brew, her spirits began to lift slightly. And as she watched her sister smearing on the preserves with what could only be described as schmaltzy attention to detail, her heart softened.
Without her ghastly makeup, Jesup was, once again, her little sister.
Jess had always been the “runt of the litter,” shorter and slighter of build than the rest of the Reid clan, who tended more toward the robust. “Horizontally gifted” was how Savannah liked to think of it. But Jess was barely over five feet tall, more than a head shorter than Savannah. And she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds, even considering the metal studs that sprouted from her ears, lips, tongue…and probably a lot of other places that Savannah didn’t want to know about.
But without the gel spikes in her hair, it fell in soft ringlets, framing her delicate, heart-shaped face. Her eyes were the same startlingly blue shade as Savannah’s, and her complexion was the traditional Reid combination of peaches-and-cream perfection.
Savannah had lain awake for hours the night before wondering if drug addiction was part of this new culture of hers, not to mention the horrors of “cutting” and self-mutilation that some of that culture espoused.
But Jesup’s skin and eyes were clear and bright, and there were no marks of any kind on her arms, which were totally exposed by the men’s sleeveless undershirt she was wearing.
She was also wearing men’s boxers, which were black with white skulls and crossbones.
Probably knucklehead’s knickers , Savannah figured. She had already decided—in the future,
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