Guest House by Barbara K. Richardson

By Barbara K. Richardson

On a summer season afternoon, Melba Burns witnesses a nightmare collision. The unknown bicyclist dies in her hands, finishing Melba's wish for fulfillment at any fee. She settles into her boxy outdated farmhouse searching for an easier peace. yet Melba's gorgeous new roommate JoLee Garry merely magnetizes messes and trouble-she brings a chain of unforeseen visitors who rework Melba's fruitful solo lifestyles into anything varied, darker, and higher.

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Sample text

Matt slid the shovel under the rattlesnake head gleaming raw and held it at arms’ distance. He squealed a little as he dropped it into the hole, and his friend Corey kicked dirt in to cover it. They wrapped the body in a blue windbreaker and drove back home. Corey got out at the first potato cellar in time to go do chores. Bud took his old bones in to the Twin Buttes and nursed another beer, satisfied. Matt and Little Gary went out back. Gary showed Matt how to slit the snake from stem to stern and swing it hard around his head so the guts flew every which way.

Carpenter came outside to greet him. He hugged his mother right around the waist. The Carpenters were the richest people in Atomic City. They had all of the assorted tractors, three-wheelers, 50 • Barbara K. Richardson horses and barns that went with the potato trade. They also had a teenage daughter whose dazzling sophomore body stupefied Matt. He blushed when Mrs. Carpenter introduced her children to him. Corey didn’t even notice that Matt was shy. He’d been at Boy Scout camp and then he’d spent two weeks at his grandma’s in Salt Lake City.

So high JoLee could not ignore it, much less flush it. No more massage school. She’d liked massage, bodies were easy to read, but the Anatomy 1 textbook had been a different matter. She’d flunked exams. She’d fucked the right guy or so she thought, but the lanky Admissions Manager with the crooked dick couldn’t save her. They’d kicked her out of school anyway. JoLee flipped a page in Matt’s baby book, set her cigarette in her cereal bowl and fumed. He was just another everlasting turd, a horse’s ass, a talker—just like Gene—a tightwad and a lousy lover.

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