1 Lowcountry Boil by Susan M. Boyer Read Free Book Online Page B

the orphans will have to go stay at a shelter.”
    Moon leaned closer, in imminent danger of sliding off her stool. “That is, if you could get permission to put one up there in the first place, which everybody knows is never gonna fly.”
    “Camp.” Blake took a long sip of coffee.
    “What?” Moon Unit and I both drew back and squinted at him.
    He set down his cup. “It’s not an orphanage. It’s a camp for inner-city kids. Not a bad idea, you ask me.”
    Moon looked horrified, and for possibly the first time in her life, was absolutely speechless.
    I wasn’t. “Is there an outbreak of crazy here?”
    “Relax,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”
    Moon crossed her arms. “I’m just tellin’ you, that’s not what Tammy Sue Lyerly was tellin’ over at Phoebe’s Day Spa.”
    “Yeah, well, more than hair gets twisted over there,” Blake said.
    Coffee sloshed out of my cup as I sat it down. “I got the story straight from Merry, and—”
    Blake put his hand on my leg and squeezed and I shut up.
    No one squeezed Moon Unit’s leg. “Everyone is still in shock over poor Emma’s untimely departure for the hereafter, and she must be spinning in her grave already.”
    Blake pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, some kids’ll camp on the beach for a couple of weeks each summer.”
    Clearly Blake had missed the part about the kids being felons from rival gangs. And the high-rise, state-of-the-art facility. Merry gave Blake, Mamma, and me each a different story. What the hell was she up to?

    Moon Unit grabbed our breakfast from the ledge and handed us hot plates. I let the first smoky bite of biscuit soaked in red-eye gravy melt on my tongue.
    “Eh law.” Moon shook her head slowly, switching subjects. “I don’t think my mamma will ever get over finding Emma Rae like that.”
    “I need a little more red-eye,” Blake said.
    We had less than a minute of peace while Moon went around to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of gravy. She chattered on, and we both ate way faster than usual. Half a dozen bites later, I realized I’d missed a chapter in Moon Unit’s monologue.
    At least she was carrying on about her family and giving ours a rest. “Speaking of Little Elvis, I’m surprised he’s not following you around already this morning, Blake. Isn’t he late?”
    Blake drained his coffee cup. “Since Elvis doesn’t work for me, he can hardly be late.”
    “Well, he sure thinks he does,” Moon said. “Whizzing around with a walkie-talkie in one hand, steering his bike with the other. Patrolling, he calls it. All day long. Some of these smart-assed teenagers around here have been making fun of him again.”
    Little Elvis Presley Glendawn was two years younger than me, but was developmentally challenged.
    Blake looked at her and nodded once. “I’ll handle it.”
    “He’s smarter than those punks in every way that matters. He just won’t grow up much more inside, is all.” She softened and gave Blake a grateful smile. “Probably gets on your nerves a lot, following you around, reporting in and all that. It’s real good of you to put up with it like you do.”
    “Sometimes he tells me things I need to know.” He grinned. “Kinda like you do.” 
    He ducked as she swatted at him with the morning paper.
    “Heck, Moony,” he said, “with you and Elvis around, I could cut a position from the patrol force.”
    “I don’t know why I put up with you, I declare I don’t,” Moon said.
    Blake looked at me. I drained my coffee cup as I stood. He laid a ten on the counter. “Breakfast was great, as always.”
    “It was fabulous,” I added as we moved towards the door.  
    Outside, underneath the pink and white striped awning, I inhaled a therapeutic lungful of salt air. I looked at my brother. “What exactly do you mean, ‘It’s not what you think?’”
    Blake took his time settling his cap on his head. He massaged his neck with one hand and gestured at me with the other.