Free The Sweet Dead Life by Joy Preble Page A

like she wasn't still standing there with us.
    "Jenna," Casey said. His cell phone buzzed. He answered.
    "Shit," he said when he clicked off. "It was Bryce. I have to work tonight.
    Kemp Lundquist has the flu." He seemed to consider something. "You're coming with me. You can do your homework at one of the tables."
    "And after that, you'll come by Mario's Grille," Amber added. Her tone was pleasant but firm. Like she was the boss of both of us, or an aunt or something, when she was none of the above. "I'm bartending until midnight."
    Casey nodded. I gawked at him. Why the hell was he agreeing with this?
    "What for? No!" It is hard to be stubborn in borrowed purple clogs. It is hard to be anything but tired and humiliated.
    "How long have your mother and Dr. Renfroe known each other?" Amber asked, ignoring my protest.
    "I--what? Why do you care?"
    "Just work friends? Or does she see him outside Oak View Convalescent?"
    "She sees him when he drops by to visit," Casey said.
    I glared at him.
    "And when he comes over to your house, how long does he stay?" she asked.
    "Hello? Why do you care?" I stomped my foot. She didn't even blink. I made a mental note: Crocs are not intimidating to anyone.
    Casey yanked me away, but even he seemed flummoxed. (Incidentally, flummoxed was my second favorite word from last week's vocabulary list. It means very confused. Your interest in my mother has me flummoxed, Amber Velasco .)
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    Amber pursed her lips at the both of us. "Just trying to get all the details."
    Question: Why would an EMT-slash-bartender need details? Answer: she wouldn't unless she was a narc. Maybe Dr. Renfroe had noticed something and was on to her. He was a smart guy. He would not fall for her fake EMT
    chicanery. Or maybe her weirdness was some kind of attempt at trying to move up in the medical world. Maybe she just wanted all the glory for figuring out what was wrong with me and figured if she wormed her way into our good graces by helping Mom, then she could hang around some more until she found a way to take credit for my hopefully miraculous recovery.
    That's the way some people were. They might look like they were helping you but actually they were in it for themselves.
    "See you at your house, okay?" Amber said.
    "Okay," Casey said. He hurried me towards the Merc.
    Amber waved. Her ponytail bounced in the breeze. The space around her seemed ... brighter than the rest of the parking lot, even though she wasn't standing under one of those horrible fluorescent lights. I was going to have to get my eyes checked. Maybe Dr. Renfroe knew a good ophthalmologist.
    "I don't like her," I hissed at Casey as I hoisted myself into the front passenger seat. "I don't see why you keep letting her hang around. We know what's wrong with me. We don't need her."
    He turned the key in the ignition. The Merc coughed into life.
    "You don't know everything, Jenna," my brother said mysteriously. "She's cool. Really you're just gonna have to believe me, okay?"
    I folded my arms across my chest. No, Casey. It was not
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    okay. Nothing was okay. I wanted to say all of these things, but I didn't.
    "Who would want me poisoned?" I asked. I decided to shift topics.
    Discussing Amber Velasco, who she really was, and what her possible motives could be for casting some weird mind control spell over my brother would only make me queasy again.
    "I'm trying to figure that out," he said.
    Something in his voice told me that he really was. Somehow, in one day, my brother had morphed from stoned laptop perv to responsible brother who tried to solve mysteries. It was like we'd fallen into a Scooby Doo cartoon, only without Scooby.
    Amber met us outside our house. She shimmied from the Camaro carrying her EMT bag.
    I clogged inside, once again trying to pretend she wasn't there. It was the only solution to the problem of her constant presence. Like wearing a stranger's purple Crocs. Sometimes that's just what you have to do.
    Mom was in bed. No big surprise.