Hidden Vices Read Online Free PDF

direction she’d come from. “McGregor Avenue.”
    â€œMcGregor. That wouldn’t be Will and Elizabeth Mack’s place, would it?”
    â€œYes, it is.”
    â€œThe Macks are good people. I run into them once in a while at the pub down the street. You passed it if you came in off Route 80.”
    Megan nodded. “I remember that place.” As if she could have missed it. The only other buildings in the small stretch of town were the mini-mart, the post office, the bar, and an Elks Club with the sign informing the town of the pot roast dinner at the end of the month. Oh, and the town municipal building, which was slightly smaller than the mini-mart. Megan envisioned the same person working at all the places, running from door to door with a mere change of a hat depending on which building they serviced at the time.
    The gas pump finally clicked off at $75. Jesus. Megan could have used a small sedative before paying that tab. Naming the truck Arnold wasn’t a bad idea, given it seemed to terminate all the money in her wallet.
    â€œNeed help getting back in?” The woman smiled while watching Megan climb into the driver’s seat using effort similar to rock climbing.
    â€œI’m good.”
    The attendant walked up to the driver’s side window and handed Megan a receipt and a slip of paper. “Here, it’s a coupon for twenty percent off your next oil change.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œI’m Lynn. If you need any help maintaining this monster while you’re here, my son does a lot of work on ’em.”
    â€œGreat, thank you.” Megan rolled up the window and made a quick U-turn out of the parking lot, noticing in the rearview mirror Lynn standing, staring at the back of the truck as she drove off.

    A man stood a few feet back from the windows in the garage. He’d stopped working on the carburetor he’d been in the process of rebuilding when the woman pulled in for service. He lit a cigarette and finished the beer he held, then chucked the empty can into the corner bin. Like the owner of the station, he’d noticed the New York license plate. Her looks definitely interested him, but her purpose for being there interested him more. After all, he did pick up a newspaper once in a while and had recognized her immediately.
    The man walked up to the window, exhaling his cigarette smoke against the dirty glass and watching the truck until it was out of sight, and then dialed on his cell phone.
    â€œHey, someone new in town. I’m pretty sure it’s her.”

Six
    Megan bought more supplies at the mini-mart before returning to the lake house: milk, bread, frozen pizza, two pints of ice cream, chocolate chip cookies, more wine. All the elements to a new diet quite possibly called Food Baby Coma. She noticed a tiny Chinese take-out restaurant on a side street and decided to stop and order. The decor was not even close to minimal and she wondered if the health department made even annual inspections, but it smelled incredible. Again, not adhering to a let’s-fit-into-those-skinny-jeans-by-spring regimen, she ordered barbecue ribs, two egg rolls, and General Tso’s chicken with fried (not steamed) rice, and chicken lo mein.
    Once back at the house, she changed into a pair of loose-fitting pants and made herself comfortable on the couch. She turned on the widescreen television, ignoring any and all news channels.
    Let the hermitic evening begin.
    Megan channel surfed and, oddly enough, ended up on a channel she had zero respect for in her state of gluttony: a fitness channel. She raised her glass of Cabernet. “Here’s to you ladies. C’mon, work it. That looks pretty fucking tiring, if you ask me. You’re probably a size zero, but who is having more fun? Me or you?” She was halfway through her dinner and wine bottle when her cell rang. She glanced down. She let it ring three times before