Page 117 of Rastor

I shrugged. "Not really. She stunk like fish something awful. But man, she made the best gravy." As I spoke, I ladled a heaping helping of it onto my mashed potatoes, and then kept on going, one ladle after another.

There wasn't a whole lot of it, and I knew why. Only two people were expected to eat it, Chloe and Josh. But I wasn't going to give them the chance. I kept ladling until the bowl was empty. I looked to Loretta and tried like hell to look disappointed. "This wasn't all of it, was it?"

Her mouth tightened. "I'm afraid it was."

I looked down at my plate. "Oh jeez. I'm sorry." I lifted my plate and held it out toward Loretta. "You want mine?"

My plate wasn't even close to her face. Still, she leaned her head back like the stuff was pure poison.

Yeah, I knew the feeling.

I was still holding out the plate. I nudged it closer. "Or, we could share?"

"No," she stammered. "That won't be necessary. But thank you."

"Oh well. More for me." And then, I dug in.

Fish barf. Yup, that was pretty good description. There was no way in fuck this shit was considered a delicacy – at least not the way Loretta made it. But that was probably the point, wasn't it?

As I shoveled it in, I gave Chloe a quick glance. From the look on her face, she didn't know whether to argue or cheer. I gave her my best cocky grin and kept on going.

I didn't want her to worry. And I knew she would, especially if she knew exactly why I avoided seafood. Looking for a distraction, I glanced around the table. No one was moving. They were just sitting there, watching me eat.

Between bites, I said, "You guys are eating too, right?"

Chloe, looking suddenly embarrassed, grabbed her fork and started eating. Soon, everyone except for Loretta joined in.

Chloe's dad looked over at me and said, "Boy, you sure have a good appetite."

"Can't help it," I said. "I never eat this good at home." I made myself smile. "And if the tabloids are true, I have two French chefs."

It wasn't true. Yeah, I could afford a whole houseful of French chefs, but why would I bother? The way I heard it, they couldn't make a decent cheeseburger to save their lives.

A cheeseburger – too bad I wasn't eating one of those now. The gravy was chunky – and worse, slimy in a way that just wasn't natural. As I ate, I tried to imagine it was something else.Anythingelse.

But I couldn’t. It was that bad, not that it mattered in the long run. It wasn't the taste that would kill me. Choking down my disgust, I shoveled in the last few bites and made myself swallow – all without hurling it back up again.

I was actually pretty proud of myself.

I looked to Chloe's dad and his heaping plate of gravy-free food. That fucker. What kind of guy doesn't look out for his own kids?

He was digging into his mashed potatoes, looking happy as hell. "Two chefs, you say? Lucky me, all I need is Loretta."

I looked to Loretta. So did everyone else. She hadn't even touched her food.

"Gee Mom," Lauren Jane said, "aren't you gonna eat anything? You're not on another diet, are you?"

"No," Loretta said through clenched teeth. "I'm not on a diet."

Chloe's dad spoke up. "Then dig in, honey. This is some darn good eatin'."

What the hell was that? His cowboy voice? I recalled what Chloe had told me in the car, that he tried to mimic his guests in some sort of bonding ritual.

Across the table, Chloe was looking more embarrassed with every minute. I didn't want her to be. I wanted her to smile.

I grinned over at her. I leaned back and rubbed my stomach. "It shore is, ma'am," I said, looking to Loretta. "Mighty thanks."

Loretta pursed her lips, but said nothing.