Death Whispers (Death Series, Book 1)
Page 39
“Mac, John.”
“Yeah, okay, Mac.”
“Same thing as I always fix you guys: hotdogs, and bags of chips and all the pop you can drink.”
Everyone was grinning, mine the biggest. Mom didn't allow me to have pop because it had the Evil Sugar. But when I went to Gramps, he gave me an IV of the stuff, that was fine by me.
I heaved myself out of the lake, dripping all over the deck, the dark splatters of water soaking into the wood.
Sophie huffed past me and the Js, mad for part of the day at least. We trailed after her and Tiff, the pissed girl contingent.
Jade leaned a head into my shoulder and said as we walked, my arm slung comfortably around her, “You could have just asked me to swim, ya know.” She smiled up at me.
“You didn't ask me!” I said, my thumb to my chest.
“Yeah, but it was fair. You had to get wet too!”
Feisty, I dug it!
“Way to get Sophie's attention, Jonester.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe just ask her out and get it out of your system,” John said.
“Yeah.”
Jade smiled and didn't say anything.
Smart girl.
Jonesy scowled, he wasn't quite getting it with the girl thing yet. I went ahead and said it, “Practice makes perfect, Jonesy.”
“Piss off, Hart.”
“I'm just sayin'”
“Yeah, well don't.”
“Geez, touchy-much!” Jade laughed and Jonesy wasted a scowl on her. Which made her laugh harder.
Jonesy sighed and stalked off toward the wrap around deck (in real wood). It held Gramps BBQ-er. Another illegal item as he used those old-fashioned briquettes that caused more environmental mayhem.
Gramps was busy torching the hell out of the hotdogs, taking them off the grill and mashing the whole group onto a huge platter that had a stainless, fork thing stabbed into the unfortunate center dog. Three bags of chips lay open on top of the picnic table that was clipped on all four sides with these metal clamp-things and the pop bottles lined on end, standing at attention on the red and white checkered tablecloth. A huge fishing weight lay on top of the napkins to keep them from blowing away.
Sophie looked at it curiously, wondering what it was.
Jonesy breezed in to relieve her of her ignorance. “That's for fishing.”
“I know that,” she said.
Oh, well that went well.
Jonesy scowled again, he couldn't win for losing.
“Makes a good weight for things.” Gramps stated, squirting water onto the flames to keep them low. God, was that gray water? Geez.
I thought about the memories dead fish and wasn't sure that I wanted to talk about fishing right now.
Jonesy gave up trying to get back in Sophie's good graces and dove into the food instead. Piling his plate with four hot dogs and a half bag of the chips he grabbed the first of the pop when Gramps said, “Why don't you let the girls dish up first, eh?” Without even turning.
Gramps was performing the BBQ dance, swiveling his hips, he danced in front of the circular thing, taming the flames and spearing the dogs. I guess that was a skill.
“Don't you have to register those now?” John asked Gramps, pointing to the BBQ-er.
“Yes, you do, no, I did not.”
Don't ask John, don't ask.
He asked.
“Why not?”
“Well, mainly, it's because they told me I had to.”
The girls turned to him, interested in what he had to say because Gramps was just that way. Interesting.
“All these hot-shot government types spewing their lies around and all the sheep in the country thinking that they know everything. Let them come on my property and try to enforce any of those bleeding heart laws, I'll give them all something to think about.”
Don't ask, don't ask.
Jonesy asked.
“Well, I think I'd start with the kneecaps, and eventually work my way up to the...”
“Gramps?”
He turned his head to me. “Maybe my friends aren't ready for The Solution yet.”
“I'm ready,” Jonesy said.
“Me too.” John echoed.
Brother.
Just then, there was a huge clatter as a dilapidated car drove up, had to be Bry.
He cranked open the door, which squealed in protest. Saved by Bry. I did a mental forehead-wipe.
“Hey guys,” Bry said moving into range of Gramps.
“Hello, Mr. Weller.”
“Hi Mac, how's it goin'?”
“Fair to middling...”
Bry raised his eyebrows and I translated old-guy-speak, “Average.”
“Oh, right, I gotcha.” He said, plopping down next to Tiff and wading right into the food with typical teen boy gusto.
Tiff gave him The Look. Apparently, she had a special one reserved just for sibling interaction. “Ya gonna be okay?”
“Yeah,” wolf-slurp-gulp, “just need to fuel up, didn't have anything at work,” he said, his cheek already distended with a half a hotdog.
Gramps was wiping his hands off on a cloth dishtowel he always kept stuffed in his back pocket. “You kids get enough to eat here?”
He looked at the girls, who all had one hotdog each, except Sophie, she seemed to actually eat food, with two on her plate.
The boys nodded, cognizant of food showing if they spoke.
Then Jade chimed in, “Do you have diet?” She pointed to the pop.
“No. I don't like that crap in the house. Very suspicious, replacing honest-to-God sugar with that fake stuff.”
Jade slowly lowered her hand and shrugged, she grabbed a Coke instead. Like she needed diet pop. Brother.
“And you...” Gramps pointed at Jade, “don't need anything with the word diet associated with it.”
“Right, ah, but I don't want to get fat,” she stated with her girl-logic.
“I wouldn't worry about that. How much do you weigh anyhow?”
Oh my God, I couldn't believe Gramps asked that question! The boys physically paled and John started choking on his hot dog while Jonesy pounded his back to help unstick the lodged morsel.
Jade sat there for a second, balancing the Dreaded Weight Question with the fact that A) he was an old guy and maybe didn't know he stepped in it and B) that every boy there would then know what she weighed.
“Probably a buck five, I'd bet,” Bry said.
I slapped my forehead, I guess he was clueless too, no wonder he didn't have a girlfriend!
“Actually, I weigh around that.” Jade said as neutrally as possible but Tiff wasn't neutral.
“You never ask a girl what she weighs. It's just, ugh!”
“Yeah,” Sophie said.
Gramps looked perplexed.
John, who was breathing again thanks to Jonesy's enthusiasm, answered, “All girls think they're fat and asking about weight just points out this issue.” He spread his hands wide as if to say, simple, huh?
Well, not really.
“That doesn't make any sense. She's obviously skinnier than a rail, look at her.”
We all looked at Jade. Yeah, she was pretty small.
Gramps shrugged, starting to scrape off the grill. “No diets! Men like women with a little meat on their bones!”
“Amen to that,” Jonesy said, putting his foot in it. It was well known in boy circles that Jonesy was a booty man.
Sophie looked at him and smiled. He grinned right back. All was forgiven.
Huh, I guess he was practicing after all.
****
Bry had been late because he had to work during the summer. Us gonna be freshman had it good as nobody gets to work before sixteen anymore. (Gramps had a LOT to say over that.) Bry worked, as he called it, as a “landscape gopher.” He ran around doing all kinds of gardening crap for rich people.
We all cleaned up our plates and put them in Gramps' sink.
“Where's the gray water thingy?”
Sophie asked.
Gramps' standard response to everything, “Grandfathered.”
“Ah, okay. So, where do I?” She looked around in confusion.
I took the plate from her and stopped up the drain and began running the hot water, which churned out about sixty gallons per second, steaming as it landed against the white porcelain. I then added soap and bubbles formed.
The Js followed suit since they knew their way around the house better. They scraped their plates right into the trashcan as Tiff said, “Wow, no separator. How does he get away with that?”
“Grandfathered,” the Js said in unison.
Gramps barked out a laugh and nodded at them, good thinking.
Bry took a real look around the house, noticing all the non-sanctioned stuff.
“Well,” Gramps responded, “I take all my trash to the Kent Separator and give them my, I-don't-give-a-tree-hugging-damn-card, and they have to suck it up and take my trash,” he said with a grin.
The girls gasped, the Js grinned and a big smile started to form on Bry's face.
Brother.
“So, let me get this straight,” Bry said, looking around. “You don't believe in saving the environment?”
Gramps planted his hands on his hips and I was eerily reminded of Mom, who had a similar stance right before she was gonna Make Her Point. “It's the principle Bryan, that these tree-hugging liberals and bleeding heart types aren't going to tell my old ass what to do. It rubs me the wrong way.”
No, really?
Gramps had a way with his delivery, he and Jonesy got along marvelously.
Huh.
Bry was dying to swim after a hot day in the sun battling the plants so we took off to unearth Gramps' canoes. He had two biggies, one orange and the other blue. We piled into them, two guys in each one and had canoe fights for two hours. Jonesy would hit the flat end of the oar, skimming the water's surface and the arc of water would catch Bry in the face. Jonesy, a natural athlete, was so consistent with this maneuver that Bry leaped out of the canoe. Tipping me out in the process, as he swam to Jonesy, who in a state of panic jumped out of the canoe and headed for shore.
Bry tipped the Js' canoe, effectively drowning John (who was guilty by association) and swam with a vengeance for Jonesy. His muscles bunched and worked and Jonesy's terror at getting nailed made him speedy. In the end, Bry caught him and gave him a few hundred dunkings.
Gramps strolled up and said diplomatically to Jonesy, “Better say 'uncle' or Bryan here is going to feed you to the fish.”
“Uncle!” Jonesy screamed.
The girls giggled at Jonesy's girl-like squeal. Which, of course, made us all turn to them and triangulating their position, we all swam after them like bees to honey. They thought they were safe in the water! They squealed as we approached, laughing so hard they weren't making good headway. As we got to them, I could hear Gramps' laughter in the background, just another summer day at the lake with a bunch of energetic teenagers.
He didn't know the half of it.
#
Death Speaks is available now!
A Love Letter to My Readers:
As of March 31, 2011, it's been a year now since my first book, Death Whispers, was published. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you that has supported my writing. Without my readers, I would not have an audience for my work. Many of your emails, support via recommendation, encouragement and critical feedback/reviews have allowed my improvement as a writer and as a human being. Words are an inadequate thanks for the depth of my gratitude to you. Please know how much your support has meant, and will continue to mean in the future to come.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart~
*
If you enjoyed this book, please support the author by posting your review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and iBookstore.
Please also consider recommending or reviewing the book on your blog, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.
Connect with Me Online:
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/troseblodgett
Facebook: facebook.com/tamararose.blodgett
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/tamararoseblodgett
goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/tamara_rose_blodgett
Shelfari:http://www.shelfari.com/tamararose
Blog: http://tamararoseblodgett.blogspot.com/
Acknowledgments:
A few people have made this possible:
You, my reader, thank you!
My sons, without whom, I could never have made the dialogue realistic; and especially Joshua, whose faith was unshakable.
To my husband, Danny, who supports every scheme I come up with and ones I haven't yet. And puts up with a daydreaming wife without complaint (usually).
To Jen and Sirena, who put up with my intensity.
For the agent “C,” that wanted to see this after the revisions, thank you. You gave me hope.
My editor, Stephanie T. Lott, for coming in here and making WHISPERS a cleaner copy.
And finally, my mother, Camilla, who nurtured the written and spoken word in a way that changed my life in this direction.
I miss you, Mom.
Books available now:
Death Inception (A Death Prequel)
Death Whispers (Death Series, #1)
Death Speaks (#2)
Death Screams ( #3)
Death Weeps (#4)
The Pearl Savage (Savage Series, #1)
The Savage Blood, ( #2)
The Savage Vengeance (#3)
Blood Singers, (Blood Series, #1)
Books publishing in 2012:
Blood Song, (Blood Series, #2) September 28
The Savage Protector (Savage Series, #4)
Unrequited Death, (Death Series, #5) December 31
Future Titles:
2013
Blood Chosen, ( #3)
The Reflective, (Reflection Series, #1)
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
Excerpt from Death Speaks
Prologue
CHAPTER 1
Letter to The Readers
Acknowledgments: