Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman by JB Lynn Read Free Book Online Page A

me. I caved the third time, when she pulled out the big guilt guns, If you don’t agree to take her, she’ll end up with the coven .”
    “That’s an excellent impression of her.” The lizard sounded impressed in a bored kind of way. “Spot on.”
    “And of course nothing could get me to quit shirking my responsibilities quicker than the impending threat of the coven, also known as the three witches, also known as my three aunts. Not that Susan, Leslie, and Loretta are bad witches, or women, or aunts. I actually think they mean well most of the time, but sometimes their meddling feels downright evil.”
    “And what horribly, evil thing have they done to you, that you’ve labeled them witches?” God managed to make every single syllable drip with disparagement.
    “ I didn’t label them. My father called them the three bitches. My mother changed bitch to witch every time. As a kid Theresa thought that meant they were the three witches. The name stuck.”
    “And you never outgrew the childish name-calling.”
    Ignoring his chastisement I rummaged in the kitchen pantry for my dust pan and brush to clean up the broken glass in the foyer. “If I’m totally honest, I’ve gotta say that there have been plenty of times I’ve wondered whether the nuthouse locked up the right Ginty sister. I mean, sure my mother is delusional, but I don’t think she’s any crazier than her loony sisters.”
    “You do realize you’re telling all this to a lizard, don’t you?”
    I sighed. “I was trying not to dwell on that particular fact.”
    “You’re not very sensitive.”
    “About what?”
    “Mental illness. You toss around nuthouse and loony like they’re beads at Mardi Gras.”
    “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve been to Mardi Gras?”
    “I’m trying to tell you that the stigma of mental illness runs rampant, and you shouldn’t be so callous as to perpetuate the stereotypes.”
    “I’m being lectured by an amphibian.”
    “Reptile.”
    “Whatever.”
    “And I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
    I glared at God. It’s really difficult to stare down a lizard. They don’t have eyelids, so you know they’re not going to blink first.
    He just stared at me with that infuriating implacability of his. “You’re angry, Maggie?”
    “It’s a double standard.”
    “What is?”
    “Understanding. I’m supposed to understand. Be patient. Excuse and forgive.”
    God licked his eyeball, his equivalent of blinking. It’s disgusting to watch. “You’re not making a lot of sense.”
    “Maybe that means I’ve gone ’round the bend. Over the bridge to grandmother’s house I’ve gone.”
    “You’re going to your grandmother’s house?”
    “Over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house . . . Oh never mind. It’s just a song Mom used to sing when I was little—before she went ’round the bend and over the edge. I have a headache. I don’t want to talk about this any more.”
    “You speak of her with such . . . disdain.”
    “I love my mother.”
    “All the time?”
    Busted. I hung my head. He was right. There were times when I didn’t love her or even like her. It was my secret shame.
    “Tell me why.”
    I shook my head. It was bad enough that I was confiding in a lizard. I sure as hell didn’t need to confess to him, too. I couldn’t even look at him.
    “Why, M&M?
    The old nickname caught me like a sucker punch to the gut. The air whooshed right out of me on a pained gasp. How did he even know to call me that?
    Only one person had ever called me M&M (Margaret May): my youngest sister, Darlene. I did my best not to think about her. It just hurt too much. It had been over ten years since she’d been kidnapped from the traveling carnival passing through town. Almost nine years since her body had been discovered and identified.
    God summoning her memory was a low blow.
    Before I could even process the renewed sense of