Screwdrivered (Cocktail #3) by Alice Clayton Read Free Book Online

“Evening, Owen, Polly.”
    “Lovely evening, isn’t it, Jessica?” the older gentleman responded, smiling at me.
    “Certainly is,” Jessica replied.
    Mayberry. Literally Mayberry.
    “So where you headed?” she asked. Nosy. But nice.
    “Had a run-in with a splintered porch step, so I’m grabbing some disinfectant. Then some beer.”
    “Good call. Well, if you need a recommendation for a quick bite, the pizza across the street is the best in town. The fact that my boyfriend owns the restaurant is only part of the reason it’s the best.” She laughed, her eyes twinkling. I looked where she was pointing and saw a bustling, comfortable-looking place. As I’d been cleaning up, the sun had sunk low across the ocean. The lights of the town were turning on. Streetlamps dotted the sidewalks, shops were closing up but still spilled a soft light out onto the pavement. And that fiery ball lit up the western sky like a painting.
    Weird day, yes. But oddly great.
    “Pizza’s good, huh?” I asked, my stomach now rumbling. When was the last time I’d eaten?
    “Pizza is freaking great; tell John I sent you. Get him to make you the Butcher Block special, it’s unreal.”
    “Now that you mention it, I’m starving. I could eat an actual butcher.”
    “Nah, we have a great butcher. Stan. And the town would tar and feather you if you took him out of service. Fantastic ribs.”
    The town had a butcher. An honest-to-god butcher. I fucking loved this place.
    “Okay, Butcher Block pizza it is. Thanks for the advice.”
    “Sure thing. I put the coffee out at six a.m.; stop by anytime,” she replied, pulling off her ball cap and shaking out her hair. With a wave, she headed off down the sidewalk.
    I did indeed take her advice and headed across the street. I found John behind the bar, a great big ex–football player type, and told him I heard he was the man to see about a Butcher Block special.
    “My girl sent you, didn’t she?” He grimaced, but in a good-natured way.
    “She sure did. And I have to tell you, I’m from the East Coast, so I’m a little funny about pizza,” I replied with a raised eyebrow. He laughed out loud, smacking his hands together.
    “A challenge has been thrown down. Butcher Block special it is, coming right up. You eating here or taking it home?”
    “Home, I think, but I need to run a few errands in the meantime. Thirty minutes good?”
    “It’ll be ready in twenty-five.”
    I told him that was perfect, and set off to grab what I needed to make it through the night in Clutter Central.
    I hurried into the drugstore, grabbed some Bactine and Band-Aids, and hit the grocery store next door. I nabbed some cereal and a small container of milk; I’d wait and do my real shopping once I purged the house of all things Beanee Weenee. I also picked up a few flashlights, because the way this day was going I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. Checking my watch, I had just enough time to head into the liquor store, grab a six-pack, then back into John’s to pick up the most heavenly smelling pizza ever created.
    “You stop by tomorrow and tell me that wasn’t the best pizza you’ve ever had.” He winked, handing me the box and a big stack of napkins.
    “Wow. Lots of napkins. Always a good sign.” I laughed, and paid.
    “How’s the house, by the way?”
    “Is there a sign on my forehead?” I asked, shaking my head. “How in the world do you know about that?”
    “Jessica told me, but the East Coast thing gave it away.” He grinned. “Enjoy.”
    I smiled, grabbed my change, and headed back to my car.
    Back at the house, sitting at the dining room table surrounded by dolls, I ate the best pizza I’d ever had. Halfway through the second slice, though, I covered them up with a tarp.
    Dolls are scary fuckers.
    I liked my environment clean. Neat. Orderly. Hospital corners? Yes, please. Can labels showing to the front? Thank you kindly. How else could you see what’s in the can?
    This house