Good Home Cookin': A Novel of Horror Read Free Page A

back.”
    The look on Natalie’s face
betrayed the words that she desperately wanted to say but she shut
the door on them. It wouldn’t do any good, and would probably piss
him off.
    “ Just be safe okay. Have
fun, but be safe.”
    Blinking his eyes rapidly as tears
began to appear, he sat up and punched it, trying to escape the
last conversation he’d had with his sister and image of her face
that was forever seared into his mind. It didn’t work. It was like
a switch had been flipped in his head, allowing thoughts he’d try
to keep buried to burst free and run rampant through him. He took a
long drag before tossing the joint out the window.
    On their sixth stop, in Jacksonville,
he’d received news from his mother that his sister had been killed
in an armed robbery at a gas station, four miles from her
apartment. Wrong place at the wrong time. She had been getting gas,
and some snacks for the road; she was preparing to come and see him
at his next show. As she was preparing to pay, the man had
approached unnoticed from behind. Gun digging into her back, he’d
made her empty her purse. The cash and credit cards she carried
went into the pocket of his coat. Without explanation or reason, he
proceeded to shoot her twice in the back before killing the cashier
and emptying the till.
    The speedometer approached eighty five
miles an hour as he sped along the highway, weaving his way around
the drivers obeying the speed limit.
    The police had no leads due to the man
hiding his face behind a black mask, wearing heavy dark clothing
and gloves to keep his identity secret. That night had been the
first of the shows he didn’t finish. He didn’t have the strength to
tell the other band members, and told himself that he could handle
this on his own. How wrong that had turned out to be.
    The drugs and alcohol were the only
ways that helped to keep his anger and sadness sedated. He opened
his glove box and withdrew the bottle of Johnnie Walker he’d put
there sometime the previous day. Battling with himself, he put the
bottle in the seat next to him. The lead singer the band needed and
deserved was long gone and had died that day in Jacksonville. He’d
gotten stellar at putting on a mask and pretending to be someone he
just wasn’t anymore.
    “ Fuck it,” he muttered,
and took hold of the bottle.
    * * *
    They walked past Dylan’s black Mustang
and Jerry kicked one of the tires. Ambling over to their van, which
had Forbidden Fruit on the side in crooked letters, they piled in
and headed off to Miami. He’d purchased the car right before the
tour and insisted on driving it. This trip had driven a solid wedge
between Dylan and the other members of the band. It wasn’t worth
the argument or time so they didn’t voice their
opinions.
    With the instruments and equipment in
the van, it limited them in terms of the speed they would travel.
The drive to Miami was about four hours, depending on traffic, but
depending on how long Dylan took, they could end up getting there a
hell of a lot sooner.
    “ Do you think he means
what he says this time?” Gary inquired from behind the wheel,
breaking the tense silence.
    Jerry just shook his head, not willing
to give an answer.
    “ Who really knows? If he
doesn’t, then we look at our options and move forward. I hope for
his sake that he does. It’ll be a step in the right direction if we
get set up and he’s not sitting at the bar nursing a
drink.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 5
     
    Leaning against the side of the truck,
he stared aimlessly at the stars above him. His mind was constantly
wandering among random things that caught his attention. The smile
that began to appear on his face quickly transformed into a grimace
of pain. Rubbing his jaw, he brought his full focus back to the
task at hand. The pain in his jaw had lessened but still served as
a reminder to keep him attentive. He didn’t relish another