Page 106 of Kylo
“It’s a long, long story,” I told him.
And I wasn’t even sure how much of it I could tell my friend.
“I’m making fettuccine Alfredo,” Eddie said. “Nights like this call for comfort food.”
How was this my life?
A break-in? Hiding to save my life? A dramatic rescue? Hot sex? Running to save my grandmother, only to learn she was capable of saving herself (and cleaning up the evidence)? Coming back to the clubhouse with the same old ladiesandmy best friend? To… eat fettuccine Alfredo?
“I think you all owe me an apology,” Huck said as he walked away from the chatty older ladies and into the kitchen.
“For what?” Kylo asked.
“For thinking it was insane to suspect an old lady was capable of running an export empire. I think those women out there just proved that ageist shit don’t fly.”
That was fair enough.
“Thank you for getting my friend,” I said, gesturing toward an oddly calm Traeger.
Sure, the guy was always laid-back. But who was as unfazed as he was in the face of all this insanity?
Did he run some super-secret side life that I knew nothing about as well?
“We want to keep you all safe while we figure out how shit is going to shake out now.”
“So… sleepover?” Traeger said.
“Is there enough room here for everyone to sleep?” I asked, thinking of all the older ladies and their delicate backs and knees and, well, whatever other bits might be achy at their ages.
“The guys will give up their beds for guests,” Huck said. “Between Che and me, we have several air beds and cots for everyone else.”
I noticed that two of the men were missing: York and Velle.
They were probably the men who were out taking care of the body.
“Excuse me, are you who is in charge here?” my grandmother asked, coming into the kitchen and looking at Huck.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We may have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Loretta isn’t completely sure she didn’t touch that trash bag on the man’s head with her bare hands.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. York’s history involved hiding bodies for the mob. He knows what he’s doing. No one is going to find any evidence.”
“Oh, good. Well, is that Alfredo?” she asked, moving next to Eddie to sniff the pot.
How was she hungry after taking part in killing a man? Then moving the body? Twice.
“It is.”
“How about I whip up a nice salad to go along with it?” my grandmother offered.
“And I can make some garlic bread,” Barbie offered as she came into the room.
Eddie seemed in his glory, having a bunch of the ladies to putz around the kitchen with him.
