Free Turkey Ranch Road Rage by Paula Boyd

blond hair was hanging ponytail-like out the back of a tan ball cap. Yes, she was chewing gum too.
    “What do you want, Kimberlee?”
    “Your mother is over there, giving Candy an exclusive. I want one from you.”
    If I hadn’t just about jumped out of my skin when she rapped on the window, I might have laughed. Unfortunately, being scared makes me bitchy. “You are truly insane.”
    Kimberlee snickered and smacked her gum. “That’s what everybody says about you.” Smack, smack. “Crazy things happen when you show up in town.”
    “Oh, right. I keep forgetting. Nothing weird ever happens until I arrive. How do you ever find anything to write about when I’m not here?”
    Kimberlee snickered and popped her gum then nodded to the motley group of endangered species standing in the shade of the Dairy Queen. “They came down from Colorado, just like you. Word is they’re out of Boulder, which makes sense because from what I hear it’s the hippie capital of the world next to California and maybe Oregon. Are they neighbors of yours?”
    “I live nowhere near Boulder, Kimmy, and they are my neighbors about like the people who live in Plano are yours.”
    The knitting of her brow told me she was working very hard to connect those dots. Lovely, just lovely. “Question, Kimmy. Have you ever been over 50 miles from your home here?”
    Her pointy little jaw dropped open in question then started working as her brain found something to relate to. “I have been to all kinds of places on church trips.” She took a breath and scowled. “Where I’ve been or haven’t is none of your business. I’m the one asking the questions here.”
    “I’ll take that as a no.”
    “I go to Dallas and Oklahoma City all the time. Just because you live in Denver doesn’t make you special. You aren’t nearly as smart as your mother thinks you are either, and you sure don’t know anything about anything that goes on around here.”
    There was a phrase in there that threw up all kinds of red flags. No, not the part about me not knowing anything, we all know that’s true. It was the part about my mother thinking I’m smart, which we all know is not true. Before I could ask where she got her faulty information, Mother Dearest bounced back into the car and slammed the door. Her interview had apparently not gone well.
    “That Carlton hussy is more interested in prissing for the camera than she is in getting a good story. I tried to tell her about the park and the idiots who are trying to ruin my life, and all she wanted to do was show off her bosoms and talk about those stupid chickens. I’ve had enough of this, Jolene. Get me out of here.”
    “Oh, but I was just about to buy Kimberlee here a big glass of iced tea and continue our chat. She was just telling me about all the nice things you said about me.” I watched in amusement as pure panic flashed across Lucille’s face. “Besides, I want to talk to her some more about all the crazy things going on around here. I’ve got an idea for a fresh story angle I want to share with her. Want to join us?”
    “No,” Lucille and Kimberlee barked in unison. The resounding answer came from both Lucille and Kimberlee, interestingly, but neither was getting off that easy. And, God help me, I really did want to talk to Kimberlee. “Fine, Mother, you stay in the car. I’ll crack the windows, but I’m locking the doors and taking the keys. You’ll be fine in the shade. Oh, and if you decide you want to come in, better beep the horn as the security alarm goes off if the doors are opened from the inside.”
    Funny thing, but both Kimberlee and Lucille were marching toward the DQ before I could even grab my billfold.
    “I don’t know what you’re up to,” Kimberlee hissed, “but I’m going to write about it.”
    “Slow news year?”
    “Not at all,” she said, with a toss of her ponytail and an obvious smirk. “I’ve gotten two promotions because of the articles I’ve written about