Homemade Sin by V. Mark Covington Read Free Book Online

leave Aunt Polly in the well while you dined on Mahi Mahi and Brandy Alexanders.”
    â€œHave a little patience and trust me,” said Stinky, “If this relationship is going to work, you’re going to have to trust me. And your shoelace is untied.”
    â€œRelationship?” Roland started to protest as he bent to tie his shoe lace. His hand touched Velcro straps. “You lying feline, there aren’t any shoelaces on sanda—” before he could get the words out with the right degree of acrimony, a young woman, dressed in a short skirt and a long, fish-stained apron came flying from the door of the restaurant, down a short set of steps from the restaurant door toward the street, cussing a blue streak.
    â€œFuck you, you fucking fuck!” The woman shouted at a man standing in the doorway waving a bloody chef’s hat at her, red-faced and yelling. Stinky slithered between the woman’s feet causing her to trip and fall down the stairs. Arms cartwheeling, she tumbled, ass over tin cup, over the kneeling form of Roland. Roland tried to catch her at the last minute and ended up sprawled in the street with the woman sitting in his lap.
    â€œI fucking quit, you fucking fuck,” the woman screamed from Roland’s lap, over her shoulder, at the man in the doorway. Realizing she was sitting in a strange man’s lap on the sidewalk, the woman turned her head and stared at Roland, her eyes sparking with anger and curiosity.
    Roland stared back at the foul-mouthed woman on his lap.
    â€œWhat are you looking at?” the woman said, angry, with a tinge of humor.
    â€œYou look like you could use a drink,” Roland said.
    â€œAre you buying, Fuckhead?” A smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.
    â€œYou have a mouth on you,” said Roland.
    â€œAnd I know how to use it.” She broke into a full-on alligator grin. “I’m Dee Dee.”
    Roland slipped Dee Dee off his lap and helped her to her feet. “Roland,” he said, extending his hand.
    Dee Dee touched Roland’s outstretched hand softly in a mock shake then brushed herself off. She was straightening her skirt when she spied the cat. Stinky had been following their conversation intently.
    â€œHey Stinky, whaddya know?” said Dee Dee.
    â€œYou know this animal?” Roland said.
    â€œYeah, I know the little shit.” Dee Dee, rose to her feet. “He spends a lot of time in the dumpster out behind the restaurant. At least I see him there during the day sometimes.”
    â€œThat would explain the smell,” said Roland, adjusting his baggy shorts and T-shirt.
    â€œI don’t know what the furry little fucker does at night.”
    â€œHe hustles drinks at Sloppy Joe’s.” Roland picked a waterlogged cigarette butt off his shirt.
    â€œSpeaking of drinks,” said Dee Dee. “Did you say you were buying?”
    â€œSure.” Roland, wondered how he got lucky enough to have a beautiful woman fall into his lap.
    â€œIt wasn’t luck,” said Stinky in his head, “I planned it this way. Kurt Vonnegut used to call me ‘Wampeter.’ It was his word for something or someone that brings two forces together that would never have met otherwise.”
    â€œSo now you knew Kurt Vonnegut,” Roland.
    â€œI used to sit on his lap while he dictated his novels to his secretary,” said Stinky. “Remember Cat’s Cradle? He was going to call it Bokonism Footsie. Changing the title to Cat’s Cradle was my idea.”
    The voice was smug in Roland’s head.
    Stinky gazed up at the sun. “Must be around noon. The Head chef comes in around noon and he must have found all that rotten fish in his hat. Since he and Dee Dee here have had a little rivalry going on recently, he must have assumed it was her.”
    Roland stared at the black cat.
    â€œI suggest the Hog’s Breath Saloon,” he heard Stinky say. “They have