Rednecks 'N' Roses

For my friend Amber, whose real life adventures gave me the idea for this story.

No, she’s not a vampire—but, yes, she has a cross-eyed black cat namedMidnight.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Chevrolet (Chevy) Blazer: General Motors Corporation

Lysol: Linden Corporation

“You got fucked.”

Amber blinked, burped, then reached for her glass. “No I didn’t. I got a house and over a hundred acres of land.”

Tequila, lime juice and ice sloshed as Mandi mixed another pitcher of margaritas. “In frickingJuniataCounty. Do you realize how far away from civilization that is? It’s the middle of nowhere.”

Amber shook her head. “It’s only an hour away fromHarrisburg.” The room started to spin and she closed her eyes.

An ice cube bounced off the table and skidded across the kitchen floor.

“Harrisburg! What the hell is there to do inHarrisburgwhen all your friends are inPhiladelphia? How can you be so…so easygoing? You should be pissed as hell that Frank got all that money. Shit, he’s a fricking engineer. I’ll say it again. You got fucked.” Amber gulped down the last swallow in her glass. Warmth rolled through her veins. She felt so good!

Why did Mandi keep harping on and on about Aunt Ernestine? Could she be right?

Amber held out her glass. “You really think so?”

Nodding, Mandi poured both of them another drink. “Shit yeah. Your Aunt Ernestine was a real bitch not to leave you any money.”

At first Amber watched Mandi’s head go up and down but it made her dizzy so she stared at the drink Mandi had poured instead. It sure was a pretty yellow color—all soft and pale like a gentle spring sun.

Then she frowned. Aunt Ernestine had hated any color except gray, brown, white or black. How could normal people hate pretty colors? Maybe Mandi was right. “She was a bitch, wasn’t she? But Mandi, I didn’t expect her to leave me anything in her will, so how can I be disappointed?”

“Christ, Amber. Would you stop being so nice!” Mandi picked a particularly bright fuchsia pillow up off the floor and threw it at an equally colorful purple sofa. “You got fucked—royally. You went to that bitch’s house three or four times a week to run her errands, drag her wherever she wanted to go or see if she needed anything. And how does she thank you? By leaving all her money to your asshole cousin.”

Amber swallowed more of her drink. Hmmm, but it tasted good. “Asshole cousin Frank,” she agreed.

Frank was an asshole. And his wife was a stuck-up snob.

“He’s getting money that belongs to you.”

Amber stared at the tiny, white salt crystals hugging the rim of her glass. One of those itty-bitty umbrellas, a bright orange or green one, would really look nice in it.

“Are you listening to me, Amber. Frank got your money.” Still smiling at her glass, Amber shook her head and repeated, “Nope. Not my money. I knew Aunt Ernestine wouldn’t leave me any so why should I be disappointed?” Mandi gaped. “Why? Because you’re the one who took care of the old tightwad for the last three years. Because you’re almost broke. You got downsized out of your job two months ago, remember?” That reminder momentarily cleared Amber’s mind. “How could I forget?” She gulped the rest of her drink and held out her glass. “More.”

Mandi poured. “Your aunt knew that. Did she ever offer to help you? To even pay for gas when you ran her errands?”

Squinting as she swayed in her chair, Amber stared at the blur that was her friend. Mandi was making more and more sense. Aunt Ernestine never did offer to help her. Hell, she rarely ever said "thank you." “You’re right. She was a bitch, a stingy, penny-pinching, sour-faced bitch.” Mandi grinned. “Now you’re talking.”

Another swallow. Amber hiccuped. “Tight-fisted, dried-up old biddy.” Mandi nodded. “She treated you like dirt.”

Blinking, Amber concentrated harder on her friend’s face—both of them. “Did I ever tell you what she thought of my stories?”

Mandi tossed back a shot of tequila and almost fell out of her chair. She grabbed the table and steadied herself. “No, you never did.”

Leaning forward, Amber leaned her elbows on the table. They slipped off; she caught herself and planted them more firmly. In a low voice she said, “She called them ‘dirty’ books. She said I was

‘lacking morals’ and that decent people would be offended by what I was writing.” She frowned. “Are you offended by what I write, Mandi?” She belched a deep belch.

After answering Amber’s belch with one of her own, Mandi gulped another shot. “Your aunt was a narrow-minded prude and a sanctimonious bitch. Hard to believe she was ever married. Bet she did it with the lights out, wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved nightgown, missionary position with her eyes screwed shut, stiff as a board until your uncle was finished. She wouldn’t know good sex if it bit her in the ass. So what if your stories have a little sex in them. Sex sells.” Amber giggled. “Maybe Uncle Henry should have bitten her in the ass.” Pale yellow liquid squirted across the table as Mandi tried to swallow and laugh at the same time.

Nodding, Amber grabbed the bottle and poured a shot of tequila—and got most of it in the glass.

“Yep, he should have bitten her in the ass. She called me a ‘loose woman’, you know.” Amber lifted the shot glass and tossed its contents into her mouth. After an involuntary shake, she continued. “Me!

A loose woman. Ha! I haven’t had a date in six months, let alone sex. The last time I had sex was with that investment banker I was dating last year.”

Wiping away the liquid she’d snorted out of her nose, Mandi grabbed the bottle from Amber and poured herself another shot. “Oh yeah, Mini-dick, right?” Amber nodded. “Yep, good, old Mini-dick. Mini-est dick in the East. His dick would slip out every time he’d really start pumping. Most unsatisfying sex I ever had.” She sighed. “The last sex I ever had.”

Giggling, Mandi poured, missed her glass, and tequila rolled across the table. “You sure do attract the losers. RememberBuggyCal?”

Amber watched the stream of tequila cascade down over the side of the table and splash onto the floor. Did it always splash straight back up again? She swayed to the left then caught herself and focused on Mandi. “Well shit, I didn’t know he collected bugs until after we’d been dating for a couple of months.”

Finally managing to fill her shot glass, Mandi shook her head—and swayed from one side of her chair to the other. “Amber, Amber, Amber. You should have known when he wouldn’t kill that spider for you.”

“Spiders! Yuk.” Shuddering, Amber leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Did I ever tell you he had this huge spider he kept as a pet? He wanted me to hold it! Can you believe it? Me? Hold a spider?

Ha! That's the last time he saw me. I was out that door so fast he didn't know what happened."

Guffawing, Mandi finger-combed her hair back from her face then lifted the pitcher and poured another margarita into Amber’s glass. “Here, have another drink.” Amber picked up her glass, sipped, and swirled the delicious liquid around her mouth.

Mmmmmmmmm. Mandi definitely knew how to make good margaritas. How many pitchers had they drunk? And when was the last time they had something to eat? She swallowed some more and giggled.

Liquid dribbled down her chin and splattered her blouse.

Mandi blinked a few times. “Did we have anything to eat today?” Tilting her head to the side, Amber grinned. “Nope. You dragged me home right after the reading of the will and starting mixing drinks and pouring shots.” Mandi grinned back. “Oh yeah. Want me to make another pitcher?”

* * * * *

A bullhorn blared in Amber’s ear. “Wake up.” Groaning, she rolled over. “Who turned the TV up so loud?” Mandi shook her again. “Wake up. There’s some guy at the door with a certified letter and a package for you. He won’t let me sign for it.”

Amber dragged her eyes open, squinting into the sunlight exploding through the window. Her head pounded in time with her heartbeat. “Oh God! Who hit me?” Hands covering her eyes, Mandi fell across Amber’s bed and moaned with her. “I shouldn’t have made that fourth pitcher of margaritas. Or maybe it was that last shot.” Dragging herself up, Amber sat on the edge of the bed and held her head in her hands. “Coffee. I need coffee.”

“One step ahead of you. It’s on your night stand.” Mandi mumbled into the sheets. “Aspirin too.” Amber grabbed the mug with shaking hands and lifted it to her lips. “God, that tastes good.” Grabbing the bottle, she popped the lid off and dumped three aspirin into her hand. She swallowed them with a gulp of coffee.

A few minutes later, after the room stopped spinning, she felt steady enough to heave herself up off of bed and shuffle to the living room. She set her coffee mug on the end table—wincing at the sonic boom that reverberated around the room as she did so—and very carefully opened the front door.

“You have a package for me?”

The postman slid a medium-sized box across the threshold, handed her a gray envelope and shouted,

“Sign here.” At least it seemed like he shouted.

Stomach rolling from the aftershave engulfing his body, Amber blinked a few times to clear her vision then scribbled her signature on the paper he held out to her. She closed the door in his grinning face.

Mandi was sprawled on the couch, holding a mug against her forehead. She winced at the sound to the door closing. “What is it?”

Pushing the box across the floor with her foot—it wasn’t heavy—Amber collapsed onto the raspberry-colored chair. “Give me a chance to open it, already. Fuck, but I feel like shit. And it’s your fault.”

Mandi groaned. “I didn’t hold your mouth open and pour the drinks in, you know.” Amber glanced toward the mirror hanging on the wall. Bloodshot eyes stared back at her. “You many as well have. The margaritas were your idea.”

Mandi slid further down the couch. “Oh, quit complaining and open the damn letter.” Taking a deep breath, hoping it would still the throbbing in her head, Amber perused the envelope.

“It’s from Aunt Ernestine’s lawyer.”

Mandi moved closer then groaned. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of the sofa.

“So what does it say?” She groaned again. “Oh, who gives a rat’s ass what it says. Open the package first.”

After struggling with and cursing at the packing tape for five minutes, Amber tore open the box and lifted out a silver urn. “What the hell…”

Tearing open the envelope, Amber blinked to focus her eyes then quickly scanned the missive.

“Is there something valuable in it?”

Amber gaped at the letter then laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks, simultaneously wincing at the pounding in her head. “Hell no. It’s Aunt Ernestine.” Chapter Two

Amber ducked involuntarily as a sheet of muddy water pelted the windshield. Her eight-year-old Chevy Blazer rattled as it lurched through another pothole in the unpaved road.

Leaning forward, she gripped the wheel tighter as the wipers smeared the muddy water from that morning’s thunderstorm across the windshield. “Damn puddle was the size ofRhode Island.” The urn lying between the bucket seats banged off one seat and slammed into the console as the left side of the car dipped into an especially deep rut.

“Don’t you dare say a word, Aunt Ernestine. You wanted to come on this trip.” Amber jerked the wheel to the left, swerving to miss a tree branch that was lying partway across the road. The right wheel dropped into an especially deep pothole, rocking the vehicle first from one side then to the other as the tire crawled back onto a more level surface.

“Merrooooooooow!” The fluffy, black cat curled up on the passenger seat bounced a foot into the air as the urn rolled toward the back seat.

Amber eased her foot off the accelerator. “Oh, shit! SorryMidnight, but this road sucks.” Blinking twice,Midnightpulled her claws out of the seat and settled back down, curling her paws underneath her chest.

They bounced through another set of ruts.

The possessions loaded in the back started to shift.

The urn rolled back to the front of the car.

Hissing,Midnightpushed herself against the backrest and dug her claws into the seat again.

Amber screwed up her face as she clenched the steering wheel tighter. “Damn it. How much farther do we have to go? This is the right road, isn’t it?” Blinking at a ray of afternoon sunlight that escaped from behind a cloud, Amber jerked the visor down. “I swear this is the right road. I remember turning at that pink house when I came here with Uncle Henry and Aunt Ernestine years ago.” She jerked the wheel to the right to miss another pothole.

Amber blew some straggling wisps of hair out of her eyes and glanced down at the urn that now lay between the two front seats again. “Don’t worry, Auntie, I’ll spread your ashes on that hillside of wild roses—eventually. I think I’ll keep you around a while first and let you help me with my novel. So, how much more sex should I add to my story, dear Aunt Ernestine? That’s what that last editor said, you know. She liked my style. I just need to take out the secret baby, the amnesia, make my hero a vampire instead of a cowboy, and not have my heroine be a virgin the first time she has sex with the hero. Oh, also, add more sex, more sex, more sex.” Amber chuckled then grinned. “Lots more sex, Auntie. And I’ll describe every bit of it to you as I write it.” The silver urn bounced off the side of Amber’s seat again.

She glanced down at it. “You know, this is going to work out okay. I have the money I saved and the money in that maintenance account for the property. I don’t know how he did it but Uncle Henry managed to keep that account secret from you so I don’t have to worry about making repairs or paying taxes. It’s even okay for me to withdraw money for food. I’m all set. I can spend the next year or so just writing. And I bet I could find a part-time job here if I really need it. I’ll even waitress if I have to.

I did it in college, I can do it again.”

The urn thunked against the side of the passenger seat.

Amber squinted through the windshield, the afternoon sunlight half blinding her as it slipped below the visor.

The urn rolled and thunked against her seat.

As she rounded a turn, the sun outlined a small, white, two-story house.

“Looks like we’re here,Midnight.”

After driving through one more puddle that sent more sheets of water flying into the air on both sides of the car, Amber braked to a slow halt before the six steps that led up to the front porch. Shifting into park, she sighed, tightened her hands on the wheel, then let go. She glanced over at her cat.

Midnightstared back, her head tilted slightly to the left.

Amber smiled and stroked her head. “I bet there’ll be lots of mice for you to chase. Come on, let’s go check the place out.”

GatheringMidnightagainst her chest, she elbowed the door latch, pushed the door open and slid out of the car.

Her nose wrinkling,Midnightswiveled her head and scented the air.

A few steps away, a rabbit flinched then sprang away to disappear under the porch.

“Meeerrroooowww!” Twisting and turning, the cat dug her claws into Amber’s stomach and squirmed out of her arms.

Amber let her fall to the ground. “Ouch! Damn it,Midnight! You didn’t have to scratch me!” The cat scrambled after the rabbit, stumbling up a porch step then squeezing between it and the next one to disappear after the rabbit.

Hands on hips, Amber glared at the steps. “Oh great.Midnight, you’re supposed to chase mice, not rabbits. Come out from under there right now!”

A faint meow answered her.

Raking her hair back from her forehead, Amber stomped to the steps and squatted. Squinting, she tried to see into the darkness.

Midnightmeowed again.

Mumbling under her breath, Amber grabbed a step and pulled it.

It didn’t give. The steps were solid.

Another meow.

“Well what do you expect me to do? You’re the one who got yourself into this mess. Find your own way out.”

Midnight’s meows became more plaintive.

Rising, Amber wiped her hands on the seat of her jeans. “I swear, I’ve never had a cat that got herself into so many predicaments. How am I going to get you out from under there?” Looking around, she spied a dark opening at the end of the porch.

“You’re lucky somebody or something pulled the latticework away,Midnight,” she muttered as she settled onto her hands and knees and wiggled her way through the opening. “Now where are you?”

“Meeeeoooow.”

Blinking, Amber grimaced as damp moisture seeped into the knees of her jeans and soft dirt sifted through her fingers. She held her breath against the musty, moldy smell emanating from the damp soil, waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then looked around trying to find her cat. “I would have to have a black cat.Midnight, where are you?”

Something soft tickled her right cheek.

She turned her head, trying to see her cat. “Well, come on out of here.” Midnightmeowed off to her left.

A feathery caress brushed her cheek again.

Whatever was touching her wasn’tMidnight’s fur. Only one other thing could be that soft—cobwebs.

“Ahhhhhhhh! Spiders! Oh my God, there’s a spider on me!” Amber jerked back, banging her head against the dark wood above her head. Eyes watering, she pushed herself back out the hole. Leaping to her feet, she immediately began shaking her head and brushing her clothing, all the while jumping from one foot to the other. “Ahhhhhh. Get it off me. Get it off me!”

“Problem, Ma’am?”