Bad Juju: A Novel of Raw Terror by Randy Chandler Read Free Book Online Page A

and then find
out I couldn’t handle it. That could make for bad feelings between us, and I
wouldn’t want that.”
    Ree reached across the table and
placed her hand over his. “I appreciate that, Luke. But believe me, I can take
care of myself. I’m a big girl—even if I am short. Will you at least think
about it? About us?”
    “I think about you more than you
know,” he said. He turned his hand over and held her hand in his palm. “My mama
taught me never to turn down a good home-cooked meal when the cook is a woman
of good stock.”
    “Your mama was a wise woman. How
about tomorrow night? I hate to seem too eager, but I don’t want to give you
time to change your mind.”
    “Tomorrow night’s good.”
    She squeezed his hand, smiling
warmly. “All right then. Six o’clock. I’ll cook you up something special.”
    They finished their cobbler and sat
sipping coffee, shyly smiling at each other like enamored school kids. Then she
filled him in on the latest town gossip and he listened politely, though with
little interest.
    She pulled a small brown paper bag
from her purse. “Do you mind if I smoke a cigarette?”
    “Go right ahead. I didn’t know you
smoked.”
    She took a pack of cigarettes from
the bag, fished one out and stuck it between her lips. She fired it with a
disposable lighter, then blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “I’ve quit
more times than I could count. But I just can’t seem to give them up. You have
an ashtray?”
    He got up, opened a drawer under
the kitchen counter and found a souvenir ashtray from St. Augustine, Florida.
He set it in front of her. “Jenny used to smoke, but she quit the last time she
got pregnant.”
    “I didn’t know that.”
    “She didn’t do it much in public.
Smokers were getting a bad rap even then.”
    “Don’t I know it. Ben smoked like a
chimney. A three-pack-a-day man. Probably why he had his heart attack.”
    “You always carry your smokes in
the little brown bag?”
    She tittered. “Ah, well, you see,
I’m going to quit smoking. That’s my motto. I’ve been saying it for years. And
to that end, I never buy them by the carton. Just a pack or two at the time.
And I won’t buy a cigarette case or a permanent lighter, because that would be
admitting that I can’t give them up. My smoking is just temporary. Get it? It’s
just one of those quirky little games people play with themselves, I guess. I intend to quit someday. But you know that old saying. ‘The road to hell...’”
    “‘...is paved with good
intentions.’ Right. But if there’s a hell, I don’t think you’ll end up there
for smoking tobacco. If that’s your biggest vice, I don’t reckon you need to
worry.”
    “You’re probably right. I do enjoy
my cigs. Life is short and the Lord can call us away anytime. I suppose I
should enjoy it while I still can.”  She knitted her brow. “I don’t guess you
heard about that poor gal who ran away from the mental hospital and got bit by
a snake.”
    “No.”
    “She died in the emergency room
before they could give her the anti-venom or whatever they call it.”
    “Antivenin. Anybody I know?”
    “No. A young girl from Vidalia.
Prominent family. They’ll likely sue Browner’s for letting her run off. At
least that’s the talk around town. Bad news spreads like kudzu vines in
Vinewood, you know.”
    “Don’t you know any good news?”
    She grinned. “The best news is that
you’ve accepted my invitation to dinner. I imagine that news flash will
be all over town in a day or two. Can’t you just imagine what they’ll say about
us?”
    She ground out her cigarette in the
St. Augustine ashtray. “Well, I better head home. If I keep on talking your
ears off, you won’t want to come for dinner.”
    She rinsed their bowls and left
them to soak in the sink, then he walked her to her car.
    An owl hooted in the woods behind
the house. The moon peeked through a break in the clouds.
    “I’m glad you stopped by,”