Russian Roulette (Devlin Haskell 1) by Faricy Mike

Author:Faricy, Mike [Faricy, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Mystery & Detective, Fiction
ISBN: 9780615521060
Google: K0NTLwEACAAJ
Amazon: B004V4AHYU
Publisher: Mike Faricy
Published: 2011-04-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 41

Heidi answered the door barefoot, in cutoffs, a T-shirt, and no bra. No complaint on my part. I guessed she was just out of the shower. The pink hair was gone, replaced by a blond so white it was almost see—through. Based on the stains cupping across the front of her t-shit I guessed she was just reaching for the towel to dry off when I rang her doorbell.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked, raising her eyes up toward her hair.

“They’re fantastic, I think you should toss out all your bras.”

“Not my boobs you perv, my hair,” she said hitting me in the shoulder.

“Hair, oh, it’s not pink anymore. Harold do that?”

“It wasn’t pink, it was Atomic Magenta, and not my idea. That creep Harold, the big dope. Don’t even mention his name in this house.”

“Hey, it looks great, what’s the new color?”

“Albino snow blond, like it?”

“Different. But in a good way,” I quickly added.

She looked at me like she wasn’t sure.

“Here,” I said lifting the grocery bag. “Let me get these steaks marinating and pour you a glass of wine. Not in that order.”

I poured her a glass of wine, opened a beer for me, set the steaks to marinate in red wine with some rosemary, then started the grill. Once the coals went down I put the steaks on the grill, cooked them just the way she liked them. I had the makings for a salad, buttered carrots, and baked potatoes plus another bottle of wine for Heidi. It was maybe 10:30 before we finished dinner. I cleared the table and refilled her wine, not that she needed more.

“God, I just can’t get over how nice you’ve been tonight. Nice to be with you when you’re not you’re usual asshole self,” she said, then followed that faint praise with a major slosh of wine.

“Gee, thanks for the compliment,” I said opening another beer, my second of the night.

“Not a problem, thanks for the dinner. You know, maybe I should bail you out more often.”

“Let’s hope you don’t have to do that.”

“Can I ask you something, Dev?” She was slurring her words at this point.

“Yeah, sure,” I was loading her dishwasher, cleaning up the kitchen.

“Do you really like my hair color?” she asked, then absently shook her hair.

“Well, I like it a lot better than the pink that Har.. that you had before. You’re far too beautiful to have to stoop to that sort of thing to get anyone’s attention.”

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” Her head was weaving back and forth ever so slightly, eyes getting glassier by the minute. She reached for the wine bottle, filled her glass almost to the rim, slopped some across the kitchen counter.

“Opps!” she said, smearing the wine across the granite countertop with the palm of her hand. I knew where this was going, I’d been here uncountable times before with her. I’m the master when it comes to giving women that one drink too many that pushes them out of the throes of nymphomania and into alcohol-induced sleep or nausea.

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