Calamity Jayne Rides Again Read Free Page B

floor,
     popping them under his heel. Squish. Squirt. "What about Frankie? He ever show up?"
    I shook my head, herding another group of invaders toward the door. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of him. You?"
    Townsend kicked a roach across the room. "That little twerp knows better than to be within cow-chip tossing distance of me.
     Hell, I can't even face a bowl of ice cream after that experience."
    "I'm worried, Townsend," I said. "First Frankie disappears without a word and now we've got cockroach central here and no
     Uncle Frank. He'd never go off and leave the place unlocked. Never. Lots of times he pulls an all-nighter getting ready for
     opening day."
    I wasn't really worried about the Frankfurter. I suspected he was keeping a low profile in case Uncle Frank found out about
     his labor stoppage, but the icky infestation was definitely a cause for concern.
    I was doing the roach rumba, jumping up and down and squealing at each bug vanquished, when soft laughter drew my attention
     to the door. I looked up to see Uncle Frank sashay in arm-in-arm with Lucy Connor of Lucy's Trinkets and Treasures. I stopped
     in mid-roach eradication and stared at the twosome in the doorway, my eyes narrowing as I took in the tall, icy cold beer
     I would have sold my firstborn for clutched in Uncle Frank's meaty fist
    "Where the hell have you been?" I shouted.
    Uncle Frank stepped over the threshold and, crunch , onto a pile of recently departed insects. He looked down at his blue canvas shoe, up at me, broom in hand, and across the
     floor of his ice cream parlor, where diehard bugs still zipped back and forth across the room, Townsend in hot pursuit.
    The plastic cup in his hand began to jiggle. Beer erupted over the sides and down his arm. I licked my lips. Uncle Frank remained
     inert, unmoving, except for that thing going on with his hand. I couldn't imagine what thoughts had to be filling his head.
     I suddenly felt sorry for yelling at him.
    "Uncle Frank?" I moved forward and touched his arm, removing the beer from his unresisting hand. I took a long swig, wiped
     my mouth, then took another one and belched. "Are you okay?" I asked.
    He looked at the beer in my hand, then at Townsend, who was swearing and slapping the bugs zipping up and down Aunt Regina's
     frilly red and white checked curtains. He grabbed the beer from me, tipped his head back, and downed the remainder of the
     alcohol in long, successive gulps. He crushed the empty cup in his hands.
    "Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" he said, shaking a large cockroach off his tenny. "What the hell
     have you done to me this time, Calamity?" he asked. "What the hell have you done to me now?"
    I took a step back, a hand unconsciously moving to rest over my heart. It figured I'd get blamed for this. That was nothing
     new. But acknowledging the pain that came along with the finger-pointing was. I was still learning how to give voice to my
     true feelings, how to strip away the hedgehog prickles that protected a soft, gooey center— my soft, gooey center—to explore a range of emotions I'd stifled way too long. To articulate an answer to the how-does-that-make-you-feel
     mantra the TV psycho-babble gurus loved to ask their lab-rat guests. Hmmm. Okay. Let's see. How did Uncle Frank's accusation
     make me feel? Pissed off, that's what!
    "Listen, Mr. Misty," I snarled, shaking a roach from my foot. "I stopped by to see if you needed any help finishing things
     up, and what do I get? An insect ambush of epic proportions, asinine accusations, and the distinct probability that I'll never
     enjoy a bowl of Rice Krispies again with the same enthusiasm." I shook a finger at him. "Woe to you if that extends to marshmallow
     treats."
    Uncle Frank shot me an uncertain look, and then looked past me to Townsend in the background, doing his own unpolished version
     of the roach rumba.
    "What do you know about this, Townsend?" he asked, grabbing the broom out of my hand and