by Sam Cheever
Brother Mike put his arm around his friend and they shared a smile. “Big will get his money.”
I narrowed my gaze when they continued to smile, feeling as if they were sharing a secret I wouldn’t like. “What?” I finally asked.
Todd the artist said, “I understand you’re about to requisition a new Mary Magdalene for the Sinful Catholic church.”
I closed my eyes, barely suppressing a groan. “Ugh!”
“They’ve been trying to get a Saint Peter for the entrance hall too,” the artist said, his grin widening. “It will cost you a pretty penny but I understand you have the money. And,” he scanned a look over Swamp Team 3, “it will go a long way toward creating peace in Sinful.” He cocked his head. “If you know what I mean.”
I sighed. “Okay. Done. Just tell me how much I owe you.”
“Not me. Big.” Todd said. “I’m donating my time as a thank you to all of you for helping to bring this to a head.”
Brother Mike nodded. “That should make Big happy and put this to rest for good.”
Cal threw an arm over my shoulders. “Well, I don’t know about everybody else, but I’m hungry. What say we get the heck out of here before the police arrive?”
“Good plan,” Fortune said. She’d been inching toward the door since we’d first heard the sirens.
We all filed out behind her, along with Felonius, Brother Todd and Brother Mike.
Halfway to the street, I grabbed my father’s arm and pulled him away from the others. “Okay, spill. What was Todd talking about?”
Felonius sighed. “I told you Todd left the firm because I slept with his wife. That wasn’t the whole truth. You see, when he found out what I’d done he embezzled money from me. Lots of it. Since I’d been inadvertently responsible for creating his desire to retaliate, I let him go and repaid the missing money out of my own personal funds.” Shaking his head, my father looked thoughtful. “I thought I was doing him a favor. But I’ve since discovered he didn’t learn anything from the experience except that he got away with it. In the following months he joined a couple more accounting firms around the country and embezzled again, getting out just ahead of the law each time. That’s the real reason he joined the Order. And the real reason he sponsored me to join too. We both share some guilt.”
“But he should have to pay for his crimes,” I argued.
“He has, Felly. Through anonymous donations of the money he’s made carving sculptures in the monastery basement.” My father dropped an arm around my shoulders, walking me toward my waiting friends. “He’s a good man at heart, Felly. He just lost his way for a while. But he’s determined to do good now.”
“Why didn’t you tell us Todd was the artist?”
Felonius frowned. “I didn’t know.”
When I made a face he touched my arm. “Really, Felly. I didn’t. As you know I can be kind of wrapped up in myself.”
I snorted.
Felonius chose to ignore my reaction. “Until Mike told me yesterday, I had no clue Todd was anything except a clumsy, embezzling monk with bad dandruff.”
Shaking my head, I sighed. “You’ll keep an eye on him?”
My father nodded. “Of course. And if he goes astray…”
I swallowed hard, knowing what was coming next.
“I have your phone number.”
“Ugh!”
Laughing, Lance P. Fenus kissed me on the forehead and walked away.
I hurried toward Cal and my friends. But I didn’t get far. Remembering one important detail he hadn’t supplied, I called out to him, “What about Fortune’s boat?”
He looked momentarily ashamed. “Yeah, sorry about that. But it’s all good. It’s parked back at her place. And there’s a surprise inside.”
“Come on, Felly. We need to get out of here.”
I ran toward Gertie’s Caddy, happy to see Cal slide behind the wheel. As we sped away from the scene, Mudbug’s finest were breaking down the front door, looking suitably excited at the prospect of actual crime in Mudbug. I barely resisted the urge to wave at them as we sped by.
When we got home, we discovered the sculptures Brother Todd had promised carefully wrapped and waiting for us in Fortune’s boat, which happily looked none the worse for wear.
“I’ll call Carter, Cal told Fortune. You three get on out of here. Between Carter and I we can get these into the church tonight.”
“Thanks,” Fortune told him, looking relieved. Then she glanced my way, her eyes sparking with mischief. “You know what day tomorrow is, right Felly?”
I had to think about it for a minute but then I remembered. Sunday! A date with the inimitable Beverly on the streets of Sinful? “No! Please don’t make me compete against the gazelle in human skin again.”
Fortune laughed, lifting a hand as she walked toward her house.
Ida Belle winked. “See you bright and early. Wear sneakers.”
Gertie waved goodbye. “See you in the morning.”
I sank against the side of Fortune’s boat, my pulse pounding with dread. Not again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We perched on the edge of the pew, our hands wrapped over the rounded top edge of the bench in front of us, Fortune dug her toes into the wood floor and eyed the door just behind us. My buttocks cramped painfully from being clenched in expectation for the previous five minutes.
The minister droned on and on. Finally he said, “…in his name. Am…”
We launched. Heads turned expectantly, smiles wide as we sprinted out the door and hit the exit, ejaculating onto the concrete sidewalk outside.
Across from us, Beverly took the steps in one leap and hit the concrete so lightly she barely lost a beat as she started down the sidewalk toward Francine’s Diner.
I flashed Fortune a look, panic rising in my breast. She pointed toward the diner and sprinted toward Beverly.
My limbs felt clunky and slow. My shoes seemed like they weighed a hundred pounds apiece. A gust of wind grabbed the hem of my sundress and sent it skyward, baring my legs and the scars from the last time I’d done the banana pudding run.
I grappled with the flapping cotton, trying desperately not to lose any time during the battle. My panicked gaze swung to the sidewalk, where Beverly ran with the grace of an antelope, her size twelve sneakers barely touching the concrete before propelling off again, sending her five feet closer to her goal with every stride.
Fortune was just behind her, long legs pumping hard and hand outstretched to grab the back of Beverly’s form fitting tank top. Beverly cast a quick look over her shoulder, a smile spreading her lips wide. She knew what she was about. Unlike me, Bev had dressed for success. There wasn’t an errant inch of extra material for Fortune to grab…not a single trailing string or hair. Beverly was a taut, fast-moving sprinting machine…a natural victor.
The wind died and my dress fell to my knees. Taking that as a sign from God, I dug in and launched myself into the run, pulling air into my lungs as my legs and arms pumped me inexorably toward my goal.
Still Beverly loped on. She was a mere three strides away from Francine’s and the ultimate goal of the coveted banana pudding.
I dug in deeper, my lungs burning in my chest and my legs turning to hot rubber beneath me. I gritted my teeth, determined that if I lost it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.
Beverly was one stride away from the diner.
I was three less efficient strides from the door.
Sensing victory, Beverly turned her head and lifted her hand…
For a brief, horrible moment I thought she was gonna reach back and smack Fortune.
But instead she saluted…a mental spank…a victory lap of the mind.
I whimpered but dug in harder. If I could just pull a bit more out…
The door to Francine’s opened. Beverly honed in…a mosquito with a rose-scented victim in sight…and a stunning, earthbound god walked out.
Cal. In a skin-tight white tee shirt and boohind-hugging jeans.
Fortune reached out and grabbed a flailing arm, dragging her sideways just enough to take her off her stride. And I gunned it past Cal, slapping him five as I dove into Francine’s.
Victorious. Without even suffering painful, permanent scars or licking any pavement.
Life was flippin’ beautiful. And there was a banana pudding in my future.
THE END
Did you enjoy Bubba? You might want to check out these other Miss Chance meets Miss Fortune Kindle Worlds stories!
Book 1: Bayou Bubba
Book 2: Bubba Dub Dub
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes romantic paranormal/fantasy and mystery/suspense, creating stories that celebrate the joy of love in all its forms. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 50+ books and has been writing for over a decade under several noms de plume.
To learn more about Sam and her work, visit her at one of her online hotspots:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Blog | New Release Notifications
