Homemade Sin by V. Mark Covington Read Free Book Online Page A

a patio where pets are allowed and they don’t water down the Brandy Alexanders.”
    â€œAre you telling me you planned all this?”
    â€œAre you having a conversation with that pussy cat?” Dee Dee raised her eyebrows.
    â€œYour shoe’s untied again,” said Stinky as he strutted away down the street, swishing his tail with an air of superiority.

    Roland and Dee Dee were seated on the patio at the Hog’s Breath Saloon. Stinky sat in a chair between the two taking in the conversation. He turned his head back and forth like someone watching a tennis game.
    â€œWe have a special tonight on Zombies,” said the waiter. “Two for one.”
    When Roland ordered mango margaritas for two and a basket of conch fritters, Stinky glared at him.
    â€œCould I also have a Brandy Alexander?” Roland said. “And put it in a saucer.”
    â€œTwo mango margaritas and the usual for Stinky.” The waiter scribbled the order on his pad.
    â€œDid he say zombies?” said Stinky after the waiter had left. “I gotta see this.” Stinky slipped down from his chair and followed the waiter to the bar. As he approached the bar, he heard a customer, a florid man in a polo shirt, demand “Make me a Zombie.” Stinky leapt up on the bar and watched as the bartender placed a tall, frosty, pinkish-orange drink in front of the customer.
    â€œOne Zombie,” said the bartender
    Stinky watched closely as the Zombie drinker took a sip from glass.
    â€œHi, pussy cat,” said the man, then he turned up the Zombie and emptied half the glass.
    Stinky scooted up to the man and examined him for signs of zombie-ism. He couldn’t tell if the guy was a zombie or not. Stinky decided there was only one way to find out,
    â€œYou are my zombie slave, you will do my bidding.” Stinky’s voice reverberated in the man’s head.
    The man choked and spluttered on the last sip of his drink. “Who said that?” He looked up and down the bar anxiously.
    â€œI am your master and you are my zombie slave. You will obey my every command.”
    The man gasped. “Oh, Jesus, it’s my higher power. I should have never had this drink. I’ve blown my white chip and now I have to call my sponsor.” The man reached into his pocket and began furiously punching numbers into his cell phone.
    With Stinky at the bar Roland found himself alone with Dee Dee, stealing glances at her legs. She was a looker, strawberry blonde hair, a svelte body and sparkling blue eyes. He could see something behind those eyes. Passion? Insanity? He knew there was a fine line and the combination could be deadly.
    â€œThanks for the drinks and dinner,” said Dee Dee, “I’m flat broke. My landlord is threatening to put my stuff out on the street if I don’t give him some money. Now I’m out of a job too. I’m a mess.”
    â€œYou are the most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen,” said Roland. “I’m sure you get this a lot but you are absolutely breathtaking, stunning.”
    â€œHalifax hot,” said Dee Dee. “I used to be called Halifax hot.” She was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
    â€œThat’s a term I’ve never heard,” said Roland, “but if it means knock-out, you are it.”
    â€œI’m from South Boston,” said Dee Dee. “It’s a little gnat’s ass of a town in southwest Virginia. South Boston is the home of teetotalers, religious zealots and NASCAR. When I was growing up, a lot of things were forbidden, drinking, smoking, cussing, fooling around; not a fun place to grow up unless you happen to have an Amish idea of fun.”
    â€œWas it an Amish community?”
    â€œSouthern Baptist,” Dee Dee said. “I think we did have one Amish family. At least they had a black carriage up on blocks in front of their mobile home. No, South Boston is a typical southern Baptist