Someone Bad and Something Blue by Miranda Parker Read Free Book Online Page A

white shirt.
    The trouble came when I couldn’t find my car keys. Ava had driven me here, but Whitney had driven my car here, since she and Ava had come together to retrieve me at Johns Creek. However, the keys weren’t in the guest room Whitney slept in. They weren’t in her purse, on the nightstand, in the bathroom, or on a key rack in the garage. I stood in the garage dumbfounded.
    â€œI knew you would try to leave without telling us.”
    Mama’s voice made me back into Ava’s Maybach. I had to keep myself from flipping over its hood. Nonetheless I lost my footing and stumbled into the rack. A few keys fell on my head.
    Ouch! I caressed my head. The scarf Ava had given me to cover my jacked-up head now covered my face. Mama slid it off. The expression on her face made me pull the scarf out of her hands and put it back on my face.
    She snatched it, then grabbed my ear. “Cut it out.”
    Let me tell you something . . . the ear pinch hurt worse as an adult. I quailed on my knees and stood up on wobbly legs.
    â€œMama?!” I groaned.
    â€œDon’t ‘Mama’ me. You were about to get into more trouble, weren’t you?”
    Mom, like my twin Ava, was beautiful, privileged, and in some weird way, entitled. Dad had thought her Southern-belle-gone-persnickety personality had to do with the fact that she looked like movie legend Diahann Carroll. Same petite form, high cheekbones, penchant to wear kitten heels even in winter, caramel skin, feline-shaped eyes, and a sophisticated golden coif created to spotlight the expensive jewelry around her neck and on her ears or a church hat big enough to sail in Lake Lanier. Don’t get me wrong. My mom had her bad days, but she always had the company of a good man to carry her through them.
    She had married and buried two ministers before she wed my new stepdaddy, El Capitan (my nickname for him). She thought it would be disrespectful if she didn’t introduce herself as “Mrs. Crawford Curtis Carter, widow of Bishop B.T. Crawford of Calvary United Church of Valdosta, Georgia, widow of Reverend Dr. Augustus Curtis of Piney Grove Community Church of Lithonia, Georgia, and now wife of retired Fulton County Chief of Police, Carrolton Taylor Carter.” I thought she placed too much of her identity on who her husbands were. But then again, back then—and even now to a certain extent—wives made good men greater. So I guessed she had the right to let the world know that she was the wind that blew their sails.
    â€œI didn’t get into trouble last night. My attacker did and that’s why she is in jail,” I said.
    Mom squinted at me and pursed her lips. She had her arms folded over her chest, with one hand—the one revealing her gaudy wedding ring and band—propping up her chin. “Is that where you were going . . . to see that woman in jail?”
    I nodded. I had enough good sense to not lie to my mom.
    She frowned. “Looking like that?”
    â€œNo.” I felt my lower lip protrude. I was pouting. “I was going home to get cleaned up first. My shirt’s all bloody.”
    â€œAva has clothes you can wear.”
    â€œWe don’t share the same taste in clothes.”
    â€œAre you aware that your daughter is sleeping upstairs, anticipating her grande soirée pyjama ?”
    â€œDid I miss the memo when we begin speaking French?”
    She slapped the back of my head with that ringed hand. “Did you get it? I just sent it.”
    I wanted to roll my eyes, but I was afraid she would slap me, pinch my ear, or something worse, so I stood still. “Yes, ma’am.”
    â€œNow that we’ve cleared the air . . .” She sighed and flattened her beige silk blouse.
    The blouse had a huge bow that wasn’t big enough to hide the pearl choker around her neck. I looked down to see her black pencil skirt, fishnet stockings, and black suede Mary Jane pumps. She was dressed