Read Rosemary's Gravy for Free Online

“Entertainment Tonight” knew that her nasty wit was her predominant characteristic.
    “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. I desperately wanted to ask who she’d been sleeping with, but that was too far across the line, so I bit down on my lip and told myself to be polite.
    He seemed to guess what I was thinking. “I don’t know who she was talking about—I don’t even know if she limited herself to just one. But don’t be sorry, it’s just the way she was. My dad had to know what he was getting into when he asked that witch to marry him.” His tone was bitter.
    My eyes widened and it occurred to me that if he kept making comments along those lines it would put neither him nor his dad in the best light with the police. I considered pointing that out, but then it also dawned on me that, as the current primary suspect, it wouldn’t hurt me if the police decided to look a little closer at the Patrick family. A small twinge of guilt plucked at me, but self-preservation won out, and I kept my mouth clamped firmly shut.
    Felix seemed to misinterpret my silent struggle with my conscience as a bout of shock or offense of some sort. He gave me a pitying look and said, “I’m sure this all sounds crazy to you. I imagine you had a totally normal childhood with the white picket fence and all that,” he remarked.
    I nearly choked on my tortilla chip. If he only knew. My childhood was about as far from the typical American upbringing as a person could get outside of Hollywood, but the last thing I felt like doing was telling Felix all about my crazy family.
    My family. Crap!
    “My sister!” I exclaimed, standing up and nearly upending the table in my panic. “I just remembered my sister’s in town this weekend. She’s probably frantic. I left with the cops in such a hurry, I didn’t even grab my phone.”
    He stood. “It’s okay, take it easy. Here, call her and let her know you’re on your way.” He handed me his phone.
    I stared down at it and realized I didn’t actually know Sage’s cell phone number anymore. I’d become so dependent on my contacts list, I couldn’t have called her if I’d wanted to. I met his eyes with a helpless look. “I don’t have her number memorized.”
    “Okay, hey no worries. We’ll get you home in no time.”
    His put a hand on my shoulder and started guiding me toward the gate.
    “What about this mess?” I asked, glancing behind me at the half-eaten meal we’d left behind.
    “I’ll call the service. Come on.”
    We jogged all the way back to his car.

6
    O n an ordinary day —that is, one where I wasn’t freaking out about leaving my sister (and possibly two little kids) hanging and worrying about being charged for my boss’ murder—I would have spent the hair-raising car ride from the taco shop to my apartment alternating between musing about whether Felix was romantically interested in me and offering up prayers that we didn’t die in a fiery crash, as his speedometer inched closer and closer to triple digits. But, as things stood, I was glad that he drove with no regard for the law or our personal safety. I was so panicked about Sage that I had my seatbelt unbuckled and was halfway out of my seat by the time he squealed to a stop in front of my building.
    “Thanks!” I shouted over my shoulder, as I sprinted up the stairs. It wasn’t until I was jiggling my key in the temperamental front door lock that I processed the fact that he’d been leaning across the front seat, his eyes closed, when I leapt from the car.
    He was moving in to kiss you, you idiot.
    I turned and shot him a look over my shoulder, mortified by the prospect that I’d offended him without even realizing it. He didn’t look put out. Instead, if anything, he looked moderately amused. He draped his right arm over the back of the empty passenger seat, gave me a short beep and a broad smile, then zoomed out into traffic.
    I shoved thoughts of Felix out of my mind and raced up to the fourth floor,