Southern Fried (21 page)

favorite, too. Came right from her own orchards.”

He poured. I sniffed and sipped. “
Blech
. Are you fucking

kidding me? What the hell is this shit?”

“Peach brandy. The recipe came from your great grandmother,

I was told,” he replied, hand on hip.

“Tastes like it was made by her, too. Like it fermented, twice

over. Thrice, maybe.” Still, I finished it and then another shot.

Then I looked in the mirror again. “Better,” I said, turning this

132 Rob Rosen

way and that, the booze taking all the edges off.

“That’s because it’s forty percent alcohol. One more shot and

you’ll think you’re the real Marlene.”

Which wasn’t the least bit helpful, but I was, at least, more

relaxed. And it did explain why Granny was always sitting on the

veranda, rocking and smiling. Now I knew why. Peach brandy.

Blech
. Still, I took the bottle with me. Just in case.

It was now getting late, the sun making its final strangle-hold

on the day. We piled in Zeb’s car and were off, parking in the

same spot as last time. Only, unlike last time, there were now

three cars in the driveway, the pick-up, the black Mercedes, and

one that looked oddly familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Guess who’s back from work?” Zeb groaned.

The house was lit up. The garage was black as the night that

was fast approaching. No dogs this time. Yippy for us. Five more

minutes and we had added cover: darkness. Then we tiptoed

through the same path as before, poking our heads up into the

window on the side of the garage. “Looks empty,” I whispered.

He reached for the doorknob. “Then let’s go inside and

check.”

And so we did. And so it was. Empty. Beau included. The

chains were there, as was the lock, but no big brother in sight.

“Think he’s in the house now?” Zeb asked.

I nodded that that seemed a reasonable idea and led him back

outside, walking as noiselessly as possible. There was a window

on the side of the house that looked into the living room. As

we’d done with the garage, we popped our heads up and took a

gander inside. Robert E. was there, as were two of his goons, but

no Beau. Though, sadly, there was one more guest, the owner of

the third car. It made sense why I recognized it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whispered, kicking my too-tight shoes

into the ground.

“Should’ve known that Roy wasn’t working alone; he’s not

that smart,” Zeb whispered back. “Now you know who was

southeRn FRied
133

passing the notes. Makes sense, I reckon.”

“But I was just starting to trust him,” I whined. “Fucking

butler.” Though, oddly, it did make some sense, like he said. Jeeves

had been working there since just before I was born and just after

Beau was. He’d been a plant all those years. But for what? What

kind of information was he relaying to the Pellinghams? I mean,

Granny threw teas and garden parties; not exactly classified

stuff.”

“The butler’s always guilty, Marlene,” he said, elbowing me in

the ribs.

We ducked back down and ran to the car. But I wasn’t done

yet; I had one more thing I needed to find out. And, if my hunch

proved correct, another talk with Jeeves would be necessary. Zeb

watched as I flipped open my cellphone and dialed.

He picked up on the first ring and started talking right

away. “Just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Beau

practically hissed.

“He let you go?”

He snickered. “Guess you got some of the brains in the family.

Yes, he let me go. He had to. I told him about the insurance. I

told him what little I knew. And I told him I had no interest in

fucking up his life. Then I told him you didn’t know anything

either and that you were going home. Guess Daddy somehow

managed to corroborate that and then promptly set me free. So,

did you go home?”

I paused, wondering how to proceed. “No, not exactly. But

he thinks I did. And I’m about to make it so he thinks I’m not

coming back any time soon.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why the fuck not? Just go already. Go like

you did before and stay away like you did before. I don’t need you

in my life; I don’t want you in my life. Our granny’s gone. There’s

no need for you to stay here.”

“But, you have it all…” He hung up. “… wrong.” My heart

thumped and then promptly broke in two.

134 Rob Rosen

“Sorry, Trip,” Zeb said, rubbing my shoulders.

I nodded, though it wasn’t as simple as Beau was having me

believe. There was something to his voice. Less hatred and more

panic. “You know that Shakespeare line, Zeb?”

“Which one? Guy wrote a lot of shit. A rose by any other

name? That one?”

I smiled. “The one that starts,
me thinks he doth protest too much
.”

Zeb shook his head. “Nope. Maybe try singing a few bars for

me.”

I gave him a push and tousled his hair. “Fucker. Anyway, Beau

wants me gone, but I think there’s some kind of back story to

it all. Something we’re missing in all this. It’s like he’s trying too

hard to get me to go. I mean, he doesn’t even know me. And,

regardless of what Granny told him, he can’t possibly hate me as

much he seems to.” The mere thought that he actually did was

too much to bear. Though I didn’t think so. Really and truly, I

didn’t think that it was true. It was his voice. The way he said it.

There was a pain there. I heard it. Felt it.

Then I remembered the second call I needed to make to

ensure both our safety. I dialed. “Good evening, Jeeves,” I said.

“Walter,” he corrected. “And I’m busy right now.”

I willed my bile down. “I’m sure you are,
Walter
,” I told him.

“It’s just that I’m back in New York and won’t be returning for

awhile. My workload has piled up these last several days and we

have a major client that’s balking.”

“What about the mansion? Beau?”

“The mansion’s not going anywhere and Granny’s lawyer can

keep looking for Beau in the meanwhile,” I said, tossing in the

line that was certain to offer us maximum protection: “I’ll be back

in the fall, maybe late November. We can straighten everything

out then.”

“I’ll tell Pearl,” he said, trying and failing to hide his delight.

“See you then.”

He clicked off. I grinned, as did Zeb. “Nice one,” he told me

southeRn FRied
135

as we both got back inside the car. “Late November. After the

elections. That should take the heat off of you and Beau. Not

like they unelect someone just because of who their kids are. But

what if one of them calls your office looking for you?”

I shrugged. “I’ll tell the receptionist to inform anyone

that asks that I’m working from home and to take a message.

Meanwhile, as far as work is concerned, I’m on an extended leave

of absence.”

He reached over and grabbed my hand, his smile doing little

to cover what he was really thinking. “And, uh, and then what?”

“You mean, do I stay at the mansion or do I leave it for Beau

to live in or do we sell it and I go back to New York?”

He nodded. “Yes, yes, and yes.”

I leaned over and kissed him. “I don’t know, Zeb. I honestly

don’t know,” I whispered, caressing his cheek, his chin, my

forehead pressed to his forehead. “Right now, I have to figure

out why Granny had two spies living in her house. And why she

knew about Beau and I didn’t. And why she lied to him all these

years. And why he was picking peaches when he should’ve been

living high off the hog.”

I pulled away and reached down to the floor for the bottle I’d

left there. “And speaking of peaches,” I said, taking a deep and

much-needed swig. “
Blech
. It doesn’t get any better each time you

drink it, does it?”

He laughed and cranked up the car. “It’s an acquired taste,

boss. Like pickled pig’s feet or chitlins.”

I took another swig. “Oh, hell no. I already ate the skin;

you can forget about the feet and definitely not the intestines.”

I shuddered at the thought. “Doesn’t anybody around here eat

plain, old meat?”

He reached over and down, speeding into the dark night.

“Don’t know,” he said, with a squeeze on my crotch. “Nobody’s

offered me any plain, old meat in quite some time.”

I set the bottle down and unzipped my dress, which sounded

136 Rob Rosen

very weird, even for me. “Nothing plain or old about this meat,

Zeb. Tender and succulent.”

“Emphasis on the
suck
, boss.”

“Major emphasis, Zeb. Major.”

Though our drag encounter of the weird kind was short-

lived. Jeeves pulled out of the driveway and sped past us. Just out

of curiosity, I told Zeb, “Let’s follow him.”

He giggled. “Yes, ma’am.” He stayed a couple of car lengths

behind, so as not to call attention to ourselves. “What’s the plan?”

I looked down at my dress and then at the bottle. “He’s not

going back to the mansion; he’s done for the night. Pearl always

told me that he stops by some bar on the way home. A snifter of

brandy helps him fall asleep, she said. But that was ten years ago.”

Zeb strummed the steering wheel and nodded. “Old habits

die hard,” he said. “And we still have a half a bottle of brandy

ourselves.”

I nodded, too. “Shame that my disguise should go to waste.

Maybe this is our chance to see just how good it is. And maybe

garner some information. There’s that two birds, one stone thing

again.”

“Worth a shot,” he agreed.

Eventually, we pulled in to a small bar off the side of the

road. Jeeves was just getting out of his car. Zeb ducked in the

back seat as I slid over and rolled down the window. “Excuse

me,” I said, loud enough to get his attention, and sounding as

much like a girl as I could muster.

Jeeves turned, squinted into the night, and walked a few steps

toward our car. “Yes? Can I help you?”

I gulped. That was about all I had worked out. Guess the

skirt was a tad too tight. “I, uh, I was hoping to borrow your cell

phone.” I paused, willing my brain to jump two spaces ahead.

“My, uh, my battery seems to have died.”

He tilted his head, again squinting, trying to make me out.

Thankfully, it was dark, the parking lot lights minimal at best.

southeRn FRied
137

Still, he reached into his back pocket and removed his phone. He

closed the gap between us and handed it over. His soul might’ve

been dead, but this being the South, chivalry was not. “Of

course,” he said. “Here you go.”

He backed a foot away, nodded, and turned his face to the

side while I fake-dialed. Then I had a rather lovely, if not entire

whispered fake-conversation, all while Zeb tittered in the back

seat. “Don’t forget about our brandy,” he whispered, before I

fake-hung-up.

“Got it,” I whispered back. Then I turned to Jeeves again.

“Thank you so much,” I said, handing him back his phone. “I

had to call a friend. We were supposed to get together for a drink,

but I, uh, I’m running way too late and had to cancel.” I glanced

up and shot him my best come-hither look. Thankfully, he came-

hither.

“No problem at all,” he said. “And as for a drink, this is a bar

right here.” He pointed to the building behind him. “Would you

care to join me inside?”

My mind raced. Then Zeb kicked the back of my seat. “Oh, I,

uh, well, that would be nice, but I hate bars. I’m, uh, I’m allergic

to cigarette smoke.” Then I reached over and down and lifted

up the bottle of booze. “I have this, though. Homemade peach

brandy.” Then I went all sultry-like. I think. Well, hoped. “Do

you, do you live around here maybe?”

Again he closed the gap between us, clearly checking me out.

Best guess, he didn’t get many proposals such as that one, and so

he readily agreed. “I do love peach brandy,” he practically purred.

Blech
. Both to him and the brandy. “As a matter of fact, I only live

a few miles from here. Perhaps we can go
there
for a nightcap?”

I nodded, eyes wide. I’d just been picked up by my granny’s

butler, in drag, with my boyfriend hiding in the back seat. And

here I thought New York City was full of crazy adventures. Or

misadventures. It was still too early to tell. In any case, Zeb was

once again kicking my seat. “Oh, uh, yes. That would be nice. I’ll

follow you there.”

138 Rob Rosen

He nodded, smiled, and returned to his car. We both revved

up our engines and were off. “Now what, Einstein?” I asked,

over my shoulder.

He reached between the front seats and popped open the

glove compartment. The pill bottle was once again removed.

“Worked on the dogs before,” he said, breaking one in half

before chucking it into the bottle of brandy. “Just don’t drink

any, whatever you do.”

“You want me to slip Jeeves a mickey?” I asked, stifling back

a giggle.

He giggled in return. “It should work pretty quickly. Then you