Free 14 Fearless Fourteen by Janet Evanovich

grinned. “You were different.”
    “We were lucky I didn't get pregnant.”
    “Maybe,” Morelli said. “Maybe not. If you'd gotten pregnant,
we'd be married now. It would all have been much more
simple.”
    Morelli was gone when I woke up. Bob was in bed with me, and a
note was attached to his collar.
    Feed Bob and walk him and remember to take a BLUE PLASTIC BAG.
Mr. GORVICH (THE GROUCH NEXT DOOR) IS COMPLAINING. LOVE YOU,
JOE.
    PS -MAKE SURE ZOOK GETS TO SCHOOL.
    PPS-THERE'S A NEW HOUSE KEY FOR YOU ON THE KITCHEN
TABLE.
    I stumbled into the bathroom, took a shower, and dressed for the
day as a Rangeman employee. I dragged Bob out of bed, down to the
kitchen, and fed him.
    Then I dragged him outside to go for a walk. I ignored Morelli's
instructions and let Bob poop to his heart's content on everyone's
lawns. I know it was irresponsible of me, but I wasn't up to
bagging poop first thing in the morning.
    I dropped my new house key into my purse and drove the short
distance to my parents' house.
    My mother's house always smells wonderful. Apple pie, roast
turkey with stuffing, chocolate chip cookies, mari-nara sauce.
Never air freshener. Air freshener was for sissies and slackards.
My mother's house announced the day's menu. This morning, it was
bacon and coffee and home fries with onion and green
pepper.
    Everyone was at the kitchen table when I walked in. My mother
was manning the stove, frying the potatoes. My grandmother was at
the table with Zook. Zook was dressed for school in his usual
Gothic black getup. Grandma was a carbon copy, except for the
piercings. Black jeans, black boots, black T-shirt with warrior
written in gold-and-red flames across her chest. Big chunky chain
belt and a wooden cross on a chain around her neck. She looked like
the Grandma from Hell.
    “Nice outfit,” I said to her. “What's the
occasion?”
    “I'm going online as soon as I'm done with breakfast,” she said.
“I'm gonna lay waste to the griefer.”
    I looked over at my mother and she made a gesture like she was
going to hang herself.
    “What's a griefer?” I asked. I'd heard Zook use the term, but I
didn't actually know what it meant. I also knew Moondog was a
griefer, but I didn't know what a Moondog was,
either.
    “A griefer's a snert,” Grandma said. “A cheese player. A
twink.”
    I nodded. “That makes it all clear.”
    “A cyberbully,” Zook said. “I got your grandmother playing
Minionjire last night, and Moondog terminated your grandma's PC.
That's a player character. Had him take a dirt nap. Man, your
grandma was really pissed.”
    My mother clanked the fry pan against the burner, and we all
jumped.
    “Excuse me,” Zook said. “I meant she was... angry. Anyway, she
was able to regen, and now she's rolling.”
    “Yeah,” Grandma said. “I'm a newbie, so my PC runs at a pretty
low level, but I've got some iiberelves camping for me. They're
evil, but they're bitchin'.”
    “Where'd you get the clothes?” I asked her.
    “Harriet Gotler took me shopping after we paid our respects to
Warren Kruzi. He had an early viewing. And I'm not Grandma no
more,” she said. “I'm Scorch.”
    “Scorch?”
    “Yep, 'cause I'm hot. Get it? Scorch.”
    My mother was eyeing the cabinet alongside the stove where she
kept the liquor.
    “It's sort of early in the day,” I told her.
    She blew out a sigh and shook the potato pan. She brought it to
the table and dumped the home fries into a bowl. She had eggs going
in another fry pan, and she divided them up on everyone's
plates.
    My stomach was filled with eggs and potatoes, Zook was at
school, and I wasn't scheduled to meet with Ranger until eleven. I
had a stack of skips to find, but nothing recent and nothing that
interested me. For lack of something better to do, I stopped at the
office.
    Lula was on the couch, wading through a stack of bride
magazines, marking pages with little red sticky
tabs.
    I looked over at Connie, and Connie did an eye
roll.
    “I saw that,” Lula