Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [35]
“Are you threatening me?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “Your family isn’t that—”
“My brothers put bugs in my rice.” I was coming to the boiling point.
“I didn’t say they were—”
“Pete called it fried lice. Said it was an Asian delicacy.” I was starting to snarl.
His frown deepened. “I’ll ask them not to do that anymore.”
I paused, trying to get adequate air. Turns out there wasn’t enough to accommodate my lungs while thinking of living with my parents. Holly had kicked Pete out of the house again. Which meant he would be crashing with the folks. “You’ll ask them—”
“I’ll tell them not to.”
“I’m not running back to Schaumburg like a—”
“That’s because you’re too fucking stubborn to realize—”
“Jeen can move in,” Laney said.
We turned on her as if she’d just been diagnosed with mad cow disease.
“What?”
“What!”
“I think he’d be happy to look after us,” Elaine said. “Besides, if the letter-writer found me here, what’s to stop him from following us to Chicago?”
It took a moment for my brain to form intelligent thoughts, a little longer to articulate them. “I’m sure Solberg would be tickled pink,” I said. “But I’m not going to—”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Rivera said.
I jerked toward him so fast I could hear my neck snap. “Do you hate me that much?”
“Only when you’re acting like an adolescent—”
“I’m not an—”
“Then don’t act like one. Would you rather be killed in your sleep or spend a couple weeks with Solberg?”
I stared at him.
“McMullen—”
“I’m thinking!” I snapped.
“Well …” He chuckled, shook his head. “I’m thrilled to know you’re still capable of such—”
“Hi.”
We turned back toward Elaine. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear. I was already holding my breath.
“I miss you, too,” she said, and smiled past the little receiver at me.
I could hear Solberg’s whiny tone on the other end of the line. I would have snarled something but I felt too sick to my stomach, and I wasn’t naïve enough to blame the ice cream.
“I know,” she said. “Just a couple more weeks.” She paused, listened, then, “But how many seconds left?” she asked, then laughed. “Maybe you can recalculate later.”
More whining. Another laugh on her part.
“Listen, Jeen, I have a favor to ask you.”
Mumble, mumble, whine, grovel.
“I don’t actually need your liver.” She glanced at me, grinning a little, knowing I was about to puke, and enjoying it immensely. “But I was wondering if you could come stay with us tonight.”
There was stunned silence from the other end of the line. Maybe if I was really lucky he’d die of shock. So far as I knew, and I knew pretty far, Elaine and Solberg had never shared a mattress.
“Honey?” she said.
I heard a croaking noise from the other end of the line. Some frogs turn into princes. Some frogs will forever remain frogs.
“You don’t have to—”
Even through the phone, I heard him slam his door.
“Honey, I need you to pack some clothes. Get a toothbrush. Stay a few days.”
But his car was already starting. He owned a Porsche. A cobalt blue Turbo Cabriolet. Laney didn’t particularly care for it because it got about a half an inch to the gallon. But I had driven it once and determined without delay that I’d trade thirty-seven Solbergs and his mansion in La Canada for that car.
There was silence for a moment, then, “Oh, okay, then. Love you, too,” she said, and hung up.
We stared at her.
“I take it he’s coming?” Rivera said.
“You’d better open the door or he’ll drive straight into the living room to save time,” I warned.
“He loves me,” Laney said, and laughed when I threw up a little bit in my mouth.
13
As a rule I’m against capital punishment. But I know a few boys who could benefit from a little public flogging.
—Linda Griffin, Chrissy’s new
neighbor, and single
mother of a teenage
daughter
The next couple of days went by with relatively few catastrophes. Over the weekend I picked up my mermaid princess gown from the tailor, took Harley to the dog park, and placed my vote on what