The Hitwoman and the Chubby Cherub

The Hitwoman and the Chubby Cherub by JB Lynn Page A

Book: The Hitwoman and the Chubby Cherub by JB Lynn Read Free Book Online
Authors: JB Lynn
said he’d be. I went to ‘the trees’, but he wasn’t there. Since he hadn’t specified when he’d be there, I settled in for a long wait, putting the lizard on the dashboard so that he could soak up some rays.
    “Five,” I murmured staring at the trees.
    My parents had always claimed they’d been planted in honor of their children, but I’d only had three sisters.
    “This again.” God made no effort to disguise his exasperation.
    “Who’s the fifth one for?” I asked.
    An hour later my father appeared, strolling up to my car as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
    “I knew you’d show up,” he said as I rolled down my window.
    “You’re welcome,” I countered dryly. “Get in.”
    He climbed into the passenger seat and stared at the anole as though he’d never seen a lizard sitting on the dash of someone’s car before.
    “How was my dinner?” I asked.
    “Delicious. Susan may be a bitch, but she’s a hell of a cook.”
    “Don’t call her that.”
    He frowned at me. “Since when does it bother you what I call her?”
    “Since I’ve come to the realization that she’s the reason your children ever had any sense of stability.” I met his gaze steadily, letting him know I meant what I was saying.
    He looked away. “Stability is overrated. It’s a synonym for boring.”
    I knew from the way God was flicking his tail that he didn’t like what my father was saying. I felt the same way, but did my best to keep my voice neutral.
    “I’m here because I thought you should know the cops think you killed Kevin Belgard.”
    “Arrow through the heart, wasn’t it? Couldn’t have happened to a nicer fella.”
    I swallowed down the ball of anger rising in my throat. “The point is they think you killed a cop. That’s dangerous.”
    “You asking me if I did it, Maggie May?”
    “Nope,” I replied calmly. “I know you didn’t.”
    He nodded, approving of what he thought was my faith in him.
    I didn’t disabuse him of the notion. I took advantage of it. “Who’s the fifth tree for?”
    I could tell my question startled him from the way he pressed himself deeper into his seat.
    “W-what?” he spluttered nervously.
    “Five trees,” I pointed at the row in front of us. “But as far as I know, you only have four kids.”
    “The other is to represent the love of your mother and me.”
    I might have believed him if he hadn’t added, “You know how we mean the world to each other.”
    “But that’s not what you and Mom always said,” I countered quietly. “You said there was one for each of us girls.”
    “And us, representing our holy union.”
    I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “No wonder you’re such a lousy conman. You’re one of the worst liars I know.”
    “Remember who you’re speaking to young lady,” he said as though the man who’d always put his own wants and whims ahead of those of his family somehow deserved my respect just because he’d impregnated my mother.
    If that was supposed to cow me, it failed. What it did do was pour gasoline on the resentment churning in my gut.
    I now believe that spontaneous human combustion could be a real thing since I’m pretty sure flames shot from my mouth as I bellowed, “Who is the fifth tree for?”
    Even God was startled by my outburst. Startled, he scurried away to the opposite end of the dashboard.
    “I--” Dad began.
    “Don’t!” I screamed, my voice bouncing off the car’s surfaces, echoing back at me. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
    My throat burned from the effort.
    Dad stared at me with something that looked a lot like fear.
    “Just tell me,” I urged, dropping my voice to just above a whisper as I pinned him to his seat with a glare. “I won’t be mad.”
    “Ha!” God guffawed from his hiding place.
    Dad shook his head.

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