Deep Fried and Pickled (Book One - The Rachael O'Brien Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF

stronger than ordinary soda. “Daddy railed on me. Said, he’s mad as hell at that boy. I asked if he was sure about all this. I think he was drinking. I heard him drain a glass. He told me a patrol car caught up with Nash at the 7-Eleven. With an expired license plate and refusing to answer questions, the deputies took Nash to the station.”
    Not wanting to make Katie Lee feel worse, I told her, “If Nash didn’t forge the prescription, they’ll have to let him go.”
    She covered her eyes with the compress. “Daddy said Detective Saunders knew Nash, and I dated. That detective wanted to know if Daddy could shed some light on the situation.”
    “Daddy’s wiring short-circuited over the phone. ‘Katie Lee,’ he raged. ’I don’t have any light to shed. Do you?’”
    I searched the library in my head for comforting words. My card catalogue opened on ‘your boyfriend is an idiot.’ I kept quiet and hoped that a sympathetic gaze would suffice.
    Katie Lee collapsed on her bed. “Daddy’s tongue went all kinetic. ‘That boy is on a path of self-destruction. Nash Wilson is tarnishing the Brown family name.’ His temper was barely below ballistic when he said he’s deciding whether to press charges on Nash for trespassing and forgery. I’ve been so upset I skipped all my classes.”
    Katie Lee moped in a puddle of turmoil. Confiding her father’s final words, she struggled to dam the drips that overflowed her eyes. “Daddy warned me. ‘That boy is trouble, and I don’t want you having anything to do with him. You hear me?’”
    “He forbid you from seeing Nash?”
    Katie Lee nodded.
     
     
    EARLY THAT EVENING, NASH called Katie Lee. He’d been released from the police station without being charged. Katie Lee confronted him about trashing her parent’s home and he modified his story. He claimed a concussion had erased portions of his post-accident memory.
    I’d only spoken to Nash a few times via phone, and my experience with a boyfriend was zero, but I was fairly certain that I could find one less prone to trouble.
    Around dinnertime, I heard Katie Lee speaking to her mother, “He did a stupid thing, and he admits it. Mama, Nash didn’t have the upbringing that you and Daddy gave me. Give him another chance. He’s really a good person.” The conversation went into a whisper zone until she hung up.
    “Maybe we should stay in tonight?” I suggested.
    “Like hell. I need a drink.”
     
     
NOTE TO SELF
Suffocating in the stickiness of the Carolina heat and humidity. Find myself lingering in the airconditioned, non-dorm buildings. A tricky ploy to get the students to spend more time in an academic setting. I’m not fooled.

Macy’s underwear intimidates me.

From what I’ve heard, southern boyfriends are crafty troublemakers and do require damage control.

Nash Wilson is not someone I ever need to meet.
     
     

4
    H oliday I nn
     
    Roaming the empty halls at the Holiday Inn with Macy and Katie Lee, I found myself thinking about my Aunt Gert. She had a personality like pistachio ice cream, acquired and tolerated by few. The worn tangle of tangerine and maroon flower vines below my feet was a replica of the carpet runner in her bungalow. The air in her cluttered house, a concoction of gardenia carpet powder and pipe tobacco was as suffocating as the motel’s.
    Tonight, I decided to concentrate on the positive possibilities. So far, this was my only party lead. The Holiday Inn could be a secret hot spot. This could be the night I become a woman with experience.
    Macy’s crisp New York banter vacuumed me out of my head fog. “Don’t tell me, there isn’t a bar in here.”
    Since dinner, Katie Lee had contained her emotional tsunami. We hadn’t discussed Nash for two hours. Springing into action, she said, “Y’all sit tight. I’ll ask at the desk.”
    Initially I’d been nervous. Not about the flaming shots, relentless flirting and obliterated moments that I’d have to be reminded of,