Fast & Loose by Elizabeth Bevarly Read Free Book Online Page A

of the women in turn as he tried again to guess which was the owner of the house. This photograph, too, had been taken from a distance, so it was hard to make out each of the women’s features. The white string bikini he knew right away, because the long blond hair cascaded over one shoulder. He thought he could make out the baggy T-shirt one, as well, because, as in all the other pictures, she looked slightly uncomfortable. Her hair was pulled severely back in this picture, and she was squinting into the camera again, two facts that only added to her appearance of discontent.
    There was no way she could be the house’s owner, he decided. No way had glitter eye shadow or ruby red nail polish ever touched that woman’s person. His money was still on the string bikini.
    Strangely, though, it was the uncomfortable one to which his gaze kept straying. Why, he couldn’t imagine. But there was something about her…maybe even something kind of familiar….
    His cell phone rang then, scattering his thoughts. He pulled it from his pocket and saw Susannah’s number, so he flipped it open.
    “Hey, Suz,” he said as he settled the photograph back on the mantel.
    “All settled in?” she asked without preamble.
    “As settled as I can be.”
    “You don’t sound very settled. Is the house awful?”
    “No,” he replied quickly. “It’s actually kind of nice. In a Bohemian, girly-girl, organic, sophisticated, aesthete, academic kind of way.”
    There was a slight pause at the other end, then, “Yeah, okay, whatever. Look, I just wanted to let you know that Silk Purse is loving the bluegrass here at the farm and cavorting about with glee. Jason’s already got her back in her routine, so all is well there. Denny and Faye told me to invite you to dinner tonight, so come whenever you’re ready and you can check everything out.”
    “Sounds good.”
    She started to give him directions, but he told her to stop until he could locate a pencil and paper. He moved to a credenza in the corner of the room and opened drawers until he found both in one, alongside an address book, a roll of stamps, and a sketchpad upon which someone had sketched a design of overlapping, amorphous shapes.
    Quickly, he jotted down Susannah’s instructions and folded his phone closed. Then, unable to help himself, he withdrew the sketchpad and flipped through it. There were other designs on other pages, some of them similar to the glass pieces in the house. So his hostess wasn’t just a collector of art, he thought. She was also a creator. These were doubtless her own pieces decorating the place.
    Although he would have thought he’d have pretty conventional taste when it came to art—not that he ever gave that any thought—he liked his hostess’s work. He liked the way the colors blended and melded, and he liked how something as fragile as glass could look so powerful and audacious.
    She was definitely an interesting person, his hostess. It was too bad he’d have to return to California without ever making her acquaintance.

Four
    BREE’S APARTMENT WAS BARELY A MILE AWAY FROM Lulu’s house, but where Lulu lived on a quiet, tree-lined, seldom-traveled little byway, Bree lived right on Bardstown Road, at the very hub of Highlands action, above a bar— nightclub was just too uppity a term for Deke’s—whose claim to fame was launching local bands. As a result, rarely did an evening at Bree’s pass without the steady accompaniment of thumpa-thumpa-thumpa from the drums of whoever was the featured act below. By Monday night, Lulu had been slammed by the all-girl punk ensemble WMD (Women of Mass Destruction), twanged by the southern fried rock band Finger Pickin’ Good, and rapped by the hip-hop group Da Streetz. Never let it be said that Deke’s taste in music was anything but eclectic. Needless to say, her sleep every night had been cluttered by raucous dreams, everything from the banjo-picking mutant in Deliverance to overweening low-riders to