"MaryJanice Davidson - Sleeping with the Fishes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

Davidson, MaryJanice - Sleeping with the Fishes




Chapter One


The unbelievable horror began, when Fred walked in on her parents making love on the living
room coffee table. Like all children (even when grown), her first muddled impression was that her
father was hurting her mother. Or perhaps fixing her back. Her second impression was that the
coffee table books (Alaska: The Last Frontier; Cape Cod: An Explorer's Guide; The Black Sea: A
History) must sting like hell on her mother's knees. Her third impression sounded something like
this:
"Aaaaeee├╝├╝ieeee!"
Her mother slipped and National Geographic's Seals of the Antarctic flew like a tiddly wink from
the coffee table and hit the floor with a thud. Her father flinched but, unfortunately, did not fall off
(or out of) her mother.
Fred darted across the room and, before she realized what she was doing, hauled her father off and
ossed him over the back of the couch. She then yanked the puke-orange throw from said couch
and threw it over her mother.
"Ow," her father groaned from out of sight.
Her mother wriggled under the throw, sat up, and faced her daughter, her normally pale face
flushed with wrath. Or something else Fred did not want to think about. "Fredrika Bimm, what do
you think you're doing?"
"Freaking out. Losing my mind. Thinking about snapping your husband's spine. Squashing the
urge to vomit. Wishing I'd died at childbirth."
"Oh, you say that when you don't get a prize in your Lucky Charms," her mother snapped.
"What's your problem, miss? You don't knock anymore?" Her mother, a good-looking blonde
with silver streaks and shoulder-length hair (and a disturbingly sweaty face), climbed off the
coffee table with remarkable dignity, fastened the blanket to cover her chubby thighs, and went
around the couch to help her husband. "You just barge in?"
"I have a key, I didn't barge," Fred pointed out, still revolted but regretting the violence. "And you
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Davidson, MaryJanice - Sleeping with the Fishes



told me to come over."
"Yesterday. I told you to come over yesterday." "I was working." Fred tried not to whine, or stare.
"I couldn't just ditch all the fish. Although they deserve it, the little bastards. Anyway, I couldn't
come." "Well," her mother retorted, "neither could I." Fred again tried not to vomit, and
succeeded for the moment. She peered over the couch, where her father was groaning and
clutching the small of his back. His bald spot was flushed almost purple. His ponytail had come
undone. "Sorry, Dad."
"Sorry, hell," he gasped. "I swear, I'll never touch her again."
"Oh, Sam, just stop it."
"Not even if we're married for another thirty years."
Fred flashed a rare smile. "Okay."
"Fred, stop it! You too, Sam." Mrs. Bimm helped her husband to his feet and hustled him out of