Tara Holloway 01 - Death, Taxes, And A French Manicure - Plot & Excerpts
Christina and I dressed trashy, hung out in the ’hood, and did our best to suck up to Joe. It wasn’t easy. Not only did he make our skin crawl, but the Latino guys who lived across the street made a habit of stepping into line behind us each day, disabling us from engaging in private conversation with Joe and rushing us through our exchange.We’d rented a U-Haul and moved a few pieces of furniture into the house to make ourselves look legit. The spare dresser from my guest room. A whitewashed bookcase from Christina’s apartment. A wobbly dinette set with three mismatched chairs that we’d picked up for fifty bucks at Goodwill.Sleeping on an air mattress on the floor left a lot to be desired, and left me with a sore back, but if we didn’t spend some of our nights at the house the neighbors might become suspicious. As if the accommodations weren’t bad enough, nights in the ’hood offered a cacophony of police sirens, car horns, and barking dogs. The mama raccoon and her offspring had taken up residence in the attic, banging around up there like they owned the place.
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