Brine Read Online Free PDF

that ridiculous name,” she said as she slid the shirt over her head.
    “You gotta wonder, right?” Diane said from the kitchen.
    “Diane handles the business stuff and nobody even knows she’s involved,” he said. “We’re partners. Business partners. That’s it.”
    Ishmael slid the jeans on, the towel still wrapped around her waist.
    “I don’t get it,” she said, zipping and buttoning. “Your jackass self swore up and down you’d never take on a partner. I asked once if I could buy into the shop and you told me ‘no’.”
    “Yes, well—that was before he got in over his head,” Diane said. She was adding hot sauce to a glass of tomato juice. “Speaking of getting in over your head, tell me again what you’re doing here, sugar lump?”
    Allen was suddenly busy in the kitchen.
    “What the hell have you two been up to?” Diane demanded, cutting her eyes at Allen. “Have you been hiding her up here this whole time?”
    “Of course not!” Allen’s brow furrowed with intensity. He ran his hands through his hair.
    “Well, who the hell was in that truck that went off the cliff?” Diane slammed the hot sauce jar down and crossed her arms over her chest.
    “I was,” Ishmael said from across the room.
    Allen leaned resignedly against the counter.
    “Diane’s a walking lie detector, Ish. You might as well just tell her. She’ll get it out of you one way or another.”
    “Okay. So—my truck went off a cliff. And then—well, then I was rescued by this—shoot, I don’t know how to explain this.”
    “Rescued? How’d you even survive?” Diane asked. “Woo-wee.” She exhaled at the spiciness after a sip from her glass. “I’m putting my money on a bet that your rich fiancé orchestrated some sort of switch-a-roo and it wasn’t really you in that truck that went off the cliff. Maybe a mannequin or something. Hmm. I’m trying to think. This some sort of insurance scam or something? You can tell me. I’m good and tight with secrets.”
    She slid her eyes from Allen to Ishmael, assessing the situation.
    “Darling, I’m rather surprised at the way you’re handling this. I’m not sure what possesses a woman to shave her head and hide out in her ex-boyfriend’s apartment, but it’s got to be something out of the ordinary. You got something chasing your tail, sugar?”
    Ishmael exhaled heavily. “Something like that.”
    Ishmael moved past Diane and into the kitchen. She opened a cabinet by the fridge and pulled out an opened bottle of wine, yanking the cork out with her back teeth.
    “Well, somebody knows just where Father Allen hides his communion wine,” Diane said.
    Allen glanced down at his watch. “It’s barely morning, Ish.” Ishmael glared at him. “You got anything stronger?”
    She opened another cabinet and pulled out a cup decorated with turtles and dolphins frolicking in the ocean. The sea creatures and waves were painted in a handsome palette arrayed within an Aztec pattern, giving the childish subject matter a striking motif.
    “Dude, this is my mug. I love this mug. Painted this in the tenth grade. I can’t believe I left this here.”
    Diane started rummaging through her purse. She passed a silver flask to Ishmael.
    “Sweetie, I’ll be honest. You smell bad.”
    Ishmael put the mug down and unscrewed the top.
    “I do? Still?” She chased her questions with a hefty swig and then breathed out the fumes. “I just took a bath.”
    “You smell like seaweed or something,” Diane answered, wrinkling her nose. “You smell like my husband when he comes home from work. It’s rugged and sexy on him, but on you—sugar, I would recommend a bit more scrubbing next time. Scented bath salts. A loofah or something.”
    Ishmael took another sip and passed the flask back to Diane.
    “Listen, hon, I have no clue what or why or how you got here, but I feel it’s my duty as a woman to urge you to call Nicholas. He at least deserves to know you’re alive.”
    “Not yet.”