Hot Shot by Kevin Allman Read Free Book Online Page B

cardboard boxes. I laid a tablecloth on the floor, set two places, and was spooning green beans over rice when Claudia came out of the bathroom, hair wet and wearing a Saints jersey. She pecked me on the cheek, and I took her in my arms for a hug, but she wriggled away.
    â€œEat first,” she said. “Kiss later.”
    While we ate, she told me all the latest complications: the discovery of termites in one of the supporting columns, the contractor who had vanished and wasn’t returning messages. I pinched lime and sprinkled peanuts on my noodles, asking questions in the right places. When she was done, I told her an abbreviated version of my adventures with Felina. “That was Danziger on the phone when you came in. His lawyer talked to the cops down there.”
    â€œSo what happened?” Claudia walked over to the fridge. “You want a beer?”
    â€œSure … They think it was a break-in gone wrong. There’s something weird about—” I looked at the beer Claudia handed me. “Dixie?”
    â€œMy parents sent a care package. Craw-Tator chips, cane root beer, everything. My mother put in a note and said they’re coming out for the grand opening of Canem.”
    â€œOh. Good.”
    Claudia’s parents had always treated me cordially, considering my precarious financial and social situation. Both of them came from old New Orleans families; it was a merger as much as a marriage. I liked the Doctors Dubuisson, but I wasn’t quite sure what they thought about me.
    â€œLydia’s coming, too,” Claudia continued. “She and Charlie split up a couple of weeks ago.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œNo one’s clear on it. You know Lydia.”
    Lydia was Claudia’s older sister by two years. They shared facial features, but where Claudia was all angles and ambition, Lydia was pure curves and languor. She was a travel agent, but she also worked part-time as a “plus-size” model in department store fashion shows, modeling sixteens with a panache that no anorexic runway rat could match. I liked Lydia, but her laissez-faire attitude toward child rearing made me nervous. Her motto was “If they’re not dead at the end of the day, I’ve done my job.”
    Claudia took another bite of curry and washed it down with Dixie. “So what’s going to happen with the book?”
    â€œI’m still not sure. I could paste something together. Even with padding, though, I’m not sure it’s enough for a whole book. And Danziger’s backpedaling.” I explained force majeure to Claudia. “The ball’s in his court, and he’s got Dunne, Dunne, and Lambert to back him up.”
    â€œSo if he decides to pull out, you’re screwed.”
    â€œPretty much.” I killed the Dixie and started to clear away the remains of the dinner. “Listen, Claude, I’m sorry. I’ll get out of here soon. Somehow. I promise.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. Something will happen. It always does.” Claudia got up and stretched. “Right now I’m too tired to think about it, and I’ve got to be back at Canem at seven in the morning.”
    â€œGo to bed. I’ll clean up.”
    â€œJust dump it in the sink, Kieran. You can take care of it tomorrow.” She started toward the bedroom and banged her shin on a packing box. “Ow. Dammit.”
    â€œI’ll get that cleared away tomorrow,” I mumbled.
    Claudia shot me a look that told me what she thought of my promises these days.
    In bed, she curled into me spoon-fashion and was asleep in a minute. I, on the other hand, was too exhausted for sleep. Tired but wired. And I wasn’t sure what was weighing on my mind—Felina’s death, the fate of the book project, or Claudia and me.
    How the hell am I going to save this project?
    How could Felina afford that beach house, anyway?
    Under my arm, Claudia shifted, pressing