by Emmy Grace
Lucky and the Drowned Debutante
Chapter One
“You want me to do what?”
Regina is my best friend, who also happens to be my immediate supervisor at Consumer Global Product Testing. With some friends that might not work, but with us, it just makes work fun.
Mostly.
Except when she’s suggesting pure madness.
I stare at Regina like she’s sprouted hair from her eyeballs. Although, on her, it would probably look good. She’s Cajun, and she’s just as beautiful outside as she is inside. And she can do anything, too. Work a crossword puzzle, do a handstand, apply perfect makeup, style perfect hair. She’s even fashionable.
If I didn’t love her, I might hate her.
Just a little.
“It won’t take long. Just a quick dip in the lake.”
“You do get that it’s November, right?”
“It’s the South. How cold does it actually get?”
“Cold enough for me to tell you to bite my butt. There’s no way I’m—”
“Lucky, the whole point of the suit is to keep you somewhat insulated, like neoprene, but also to save your life when you trigger the test button. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”
I balk. “Wait, did you say somewhat insulated? Somewhat insulated?”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ll be plenty warm.”
“Maybe in a movie theater. Or in the Bahamas. But in the lake? Regina, that water will be colder than Free Willy’s willy. I can’t get in there with something that’s somewhat insulated.”
“It’ll be—”
“If you say it’ll be fine one more time, I’m gonna drag you to the bathroom and give you a swirly in Betsy’s big mouth.”
One of the products I had to test a few weeks ago went sideways (and it wasn’t the first one, I might add), and I became intimately acquainted with my toilet. We bonded over several long, disgusting hours, and we are now on a first name basis.
Her name is Betsy.
She was a true friend to me that night.
Regina’s face melts into a plea. “Lucky, pleeeease! The big boss’s assistant’s secretary is coming down here to evaluate me. This would be such a great product for you to be testing.”
“Isn’t that like saying your third cousin’s boyfriend’s dog, twice removed?”
“Probably, but it’s still a big deal. Europe is—”
“Her name is Europe?”
She nods. “I told you that.”
“Um, no you didn’t.”
Regina sighs. “I did.”
“No, because if you did, I would remember. And do you want to know why I know I’d remember?”
Her stare is blank for about three heartbeats. I know the instant understanding sets in.
Simultaneously, like we share a brain (which I sometimes wonder if we do), we both start singing. “It’s the final countdown! Do-do-dooo-dooo. Do-do-do-do-dooo.”
We were both raised on 80’s and 90’s music and television. Unless you were homeschooled in a plastic bubble trapped between two boulders in the Sierra Nevadas, that fact should be fairly obvious within sixteen seconds of meeting either one of us.
I do my best impression of someone playing a keyboard for about a minute. After that, neither of us can sing for laughing so hard.
While I catch my breath, I muse aloud. “We need an 80’s music night. I bet Suzie would bring over a bunch of her music over and do weird things to our hair.”
“I bet we wouldn’t even have to ask. She’d probably volunteer.”
Suzie Lynn is the owner and operator of the Color Me Badd hair salon. She’s in her fifties, so she grew up listening to the same music we did. Only we moved on. With Suzie, I’m not sure the same could be said. Her hair is usually styled in some sort of colorful Mohawk and she plays Duran Duran in her shop. She’s the nicest person you’d ever want to meet, though, and she puts up with me.
That says a lot.
“She would. She’s a pretty rad chick,” I declare.
It’s Regina’s turn to stare at me like something gross has taken up residence on my face. “Don’t do that.”
“Too much?”
“Way too much. Now, where was I?”
“You were begging me to do something incredibly stupid and irresponsible.”
“Exactly. It’s right up your alley.”
“Heartless,” I whisper dramatically. “But also true.” I sigh deeply. “Good grief, fine. But promise me we don’t have to go out too deep.”
“I promise. We won’t get too far from shore.”
“When is this supposed to take place?”
Her face crumples up into a cringe, so I know I won’t like this part either. “She’s flying in this afternoon, so if you could do it today, that would be awesome.”
“Regina LaFayette, you are a sneaky devil woman. How long have you known about this?”
She hides her face behind her hands this time. “Almost two weeks.”
“For shame!” I breathe. “And you’re springing it on me last minute because…”
“You’ve had a lot going on lately. I didn’t want to bother you.”
I can’t very well be mad at her for that. I really have had a lot going on lately. Dead bodies, public performances, more moments of unconsciousness than I care to think about.
“I guess I can forgive you then.”
She lowers her hands. “Really?” I nod. “So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it. But I’m gonna need a reward afterward. A big one. Of the gourmet variety.”
Food is life, right?
“You get paid to do this, Lucky. Very well, I might add. And you’ve tested way worse things than this.”
Can’t argue those facts either.
Blast her and her accuracy!
“I’m not talking about the product testing. I’m talking about a woman named Europe. Do you have any idea the amount of restraint I’ll have to call upon just to make it through the day without singing every time I look at her? I mean, her name is Europe for God’s sake. And the song is already stuck in my head. The struggle is real.”
“Please try to control yourself. At least until you’re away from her.”
“And you’ll bring me ice cream for a week?”
“I’ll bring you ice cream for a week.”
“Double chocolate pecan praline?” My favorite. She nods. “From home?”
“I’ll have Beebee bring it when she comes for this week Thanksgiving.”
“Deal.”
She leaps up from the couch and claps her hands excitedly. “Let me go get it.”
“You brought it with you?”
“I was pretty sure you’d do it.”
“I’m too easy.”
“You’re just easy enough. Except with Tasty Cakes. That could use some work.” She gives me an exaggerated wink and then hurries out the door before I can address that comment. She knows my feeling on the Liam Dunning, a.k.a. Tasty Cakes thing. That’s why she runs.
She’s the one who came up with that name, mainly because Liam is so gorgeous. Since we were two wild young things, growing up in Gator Cove, Louisiana, we’ve given people nicknames that speak to a certain outstanding characteristic. Liam’s being hotness.
Pure, beautiful, steamy-good hotness.
Since moving to Salty Springs, South Carolina, we’ve also dubbed a couple of others. Petey, the Sheriff’s assistant is the Ginger Creep. He has a mangy red beard and is far too creepy to be a deputy. Mrs. Snuffleupagus is my ancient landlady. She has a long, droopy nose just like the children’s television character. And Liam, of course.
Regina and the rest of the town are trying to matchmake, but only Regina and Liam know the reason that it can never be. When Beebee “blessed” me, it made me extremely lucky when it comes to getting out of scrapes. Too bad it doesn’t keep me from getting into them.
Unfortunately, it seems to have made me very unlucky in love. Not at first, though. At first,
there’s this thing that happens. Regina calls it my lucky charm. Liam calls it catnip. Whatever you want to call it, men are attracted to me pretty much instantly. That in itself isn’t so bad, but if I make the mistake of kissing one…
God help us all.
They go completely insane.
Like stalker insane.
That’s why we had to leave Gator Cove. An ex-boyfriend tried to kidnap me. That was my sign that it was time to move on. Start over.
And never kiss another man.
Liam seems to be immune to my charm and my kisses, but we have such a good thing going with our investigations I’m afraid to test it to be sure. I don’t want anything to mess that up. Especially whatever crazy spell I might inadvertently cast over him.
Not worth the risk in my opinion.
Regina, however, disagrees. To her, the most important pursuit in life for both of us right now should be finding our Mr. Right. Her biological clock is like a tiny Unabomber lording over her ovaries. She feels the threat, hears the ticking day and night. Maybe she thinks if she doesn’t marry in time, her girl parts will explode and ruin her outfit. With my sweet best friend, it’s hard to tell.
When she comes back in, she’s carrying what looks like a tuxedo bag draped over her shoulder.
“Lake formal wear? Won’t I feel snazzy?”
“It’s not formal. It just isn’t supposed to be folded or compressed in any way.”
“Oh.”
That probably doesn’t bode well.
She makes her way back to me and unzips the garment bag with a flourish. “Ta da!”
I stare at it. “It’s orange.”
“Yes.”
“Bright orange. Neon orange.”
Her face is wreathed in a huge smile. “Right again.”
“You realize I’m gonna look like a buoy.”
“I figure with you, that might be a good thing. In case we lose you.”
“Lose me?”
I’m sure my alarm is written all over my face.
“It’s not like I really think that might happen, but with you, it’s always better safe than sorry.”
“You’re not making me feel very good about this, woman.”
“It’ll be—”
“Fine. Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard.”
I reach for the suit just as a terrifying scream reverberates through the house. Regina gives a little screech and jumps so violently that she flings the suit at me. For me, I gasp and almost swallow my gum, which is actually an improvement as far as reactions go. The first many times this happened, I peed a little.
Stupid weak bladder.
The sound comes from Fred, one of the two newest members of my rescue pet menagerie. He’s a screaming goat that the circus left with me because they couldn’t keep him. He’s sticking his head through the dog door, trying to get my attention. He picked it up from my other animals. They all use the door. He’s just too big to fit through it, thank God.
I glance out the window and see his unwitting counterpart, a fainting goat named Ethel, go stiff as a board and then fall over like she’s been shot. I can’t help giggling. Fred’s screaming always does this to her. She’ll recover in a few minutes and resume nibbling on the bale of alfalfa hay that I put one in the middle of the yard for them to eat. It’s mainly so they don’t ingest important things, like their house.
Or my house.
“Good Lord Almighty,” Regina says when she recovers, putting a hand to her heaving chest. “I’ll never get used to that.”
Before I can respond, the rest of the household has to voice their opinion on the matter. Mr. Jingles, my brown and white Frenchie, snarls like he’s going to rip the head off something. Gumbo, my sweet miniature pig, snorts in response and starts running in a tight circle. Lucy-fur, my black devil cat, makes her ferocious meow-growl and jumps on Gator, the hamster’s cage, where she braces to do battle. Gator responds by hopping into his wheel to run for dear life. The squeak of the wheel riles Squishy, my rescue parrot, who walks nervously along his perch, back and forth, as he squawks some random word repeatedly.
“Wrecked ‘em! Wrecked ‘em!”
Regina and I look at each other, puzzled.
“Is he saying ‘wrecked ‘em’ or ‘rectum’?” she asks.
I laugh at that, too. Mainly because potty humor, or anything in the general vicinity of potty humor, tickles my funny bone like nobody’s business. I love a good poop joke.
“Ha! Probably rectum. He’s been mentioning body parts a lot lately. I don’t know what he’s been watching on TV.”
“You let him watch TV?”
I nod. “Sometimes I leave it on when I’m gonna be gone for a while. Just to give them some noise and some company. And so hopefully they won’t do this.”
I point to the escalating mayhem. The more excited one gets, the more excited they all get. However, Lucy-fur seems to be the key to the chaos, so removing her from the equation usually does the trick. If I’m not here to move her, though, I guess they just do it until they exhaust themselves.
I grab Lucy from Gator’s cage and put her out the front door. As I’m turning around, Fred gives another blood-curdling scream and Regina yowls in response.
“You’re as bad as they are,” I tell her, pointing to my other creatures, which are just now starting to settle down.
“Everyone and everything around you has to be a little bit crazy just to survive, don’t they?”
“Pretty much. It’s part of my charm.”
Fine. I lead a bit of an eccentric life. Better to be a free spirit and embrace it than try to fight it.
DON’T MISS BOOK 5, LUCKY AND THE DROWNED DEBUTANTE!
Thank you
I wanted to very quickly thank you for spending your valuable time with me. So much of my heart is in this story, in these characters and their lives, and I’m profoundly grateful to be able to share them with you. It’s one of my greatest desires in life to bring GOOD to this world. Light, joy, laughter, happiness. I hope you found one (or all) of those things in the pages of this book. If you did, I hope you’ll consider spreading the word about it. Tell a friend, leave a review, gift a copy to someone you know who needs a pick me up. All around us, at any given time, people are hurting, and I truly believe that laughter is great medicine. It would be such an incredible blessing if, together, we could bring joy to someone else, even if just for a few hours. Sometimes that can mean the difference between giving up and pressing on.
I want you to know that I deeply appreciate that you chose this book. It’s a dream come true to be able to do what I believe the Lord created me to do, and I’m indescribably honored to have you along for the ride:)
God bless!
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Acknowledgments
First and foremost, always always always, is God, without Whom I am nothing. You are and will always be my everything.
Secondly will ever be my husband. You are such a part of these stories, I see you in them as much as I see me (which is A LOT!). Thank you for being my biggest fan, the funniest guy on the block, and the cleverest mind I know. You amaze and inspire me every single day and I love you with every cell of my heart.
Thirdly, I’d like to thank Becky R and Bonnie S. You two helped me with this book more than you know. Your love for these characters and your insight are priceless and I am eternally grateful for you.
Next, I’d like to thank Angelika. I’m so happy to have you back on board. You are so, so good at this, and I love that you’re “learning�
� Lucky. That makes me laugh every time I think of it.
Next, I’d like to thank Mallory for another amazing cover. These babies are as bright and awesome as you.
Last but nowhere near least is YOU, the reader. Knowing that you open your heart and mind for Lucky and me is a privilege that I’ll never be able to describe. I am so honored that you’ve followed along this far, and I hope to make you laugh and think and swoon and laugh some more for many, many books to come. I am dedicated to bringing you the very best work that I’m capable of. I hope you can feel that passion and commitment in every page you turn.
About the Author
I'm a writer, mostly of awesomely fun mysteries that no one should take too seriously. I imagine that I should say something deep and profound about myself or my life philosophy, but I'd much rather fling facts like cool ninja throwing stars.
FACT: I'm a devoted if slightly neurotic wife, an indefatigable lover of animals, and an absolute fanatic of all things funny.
FACT: I'm probably alarmingly similar to Lucky, minus the daredevil streak and the unbreakable parts.
FACT: I'm such a homebody that seeing me out in the wild is something like spotting Sasquatch, only with less hair and less fanfare.
FACT: I'm a nerd and a Southerner, and my preferred wardrobe consists of pants that stretch and a t-shirt with writing on it.
FACT: I love my job and I hope I get to do this forEVER.
FACT: I’m so grateful to you for reading my work:)
Also by Emmy Grace
Lucky and the Falling Felon
Lucky and the Axed Accountant
Lucky and the Banged-up Ballerina
Lucky and the Crushed Clown
Lucky and the Drowned Debutante
