Southern Fried (4 page)

addled head. What would happen to all of them now that Granny

was gone?

Her shoulders relaxed and she allowed the briefest of smiles.

“No, it’s fine working here, really. I mean, your Granny, she, she

could be…”

“Difficult?” And that was putting it nicely.

“Difficult,” she agreed. “Though she treated me well. I’ve not

had it easy, you see. And she took me in and gave me a job. Hard

to come by good work around these parts, so I was grateful. See,

I had nothing before this. Less than that.”

My smile made a triumphant return. It was good to hear that

Granny was appreciated. I supposed I rarely told her so myself.

Chalk it up to the ignorance of youth. In truth, she gave her time

and money to so many causes, but mostly she did it on the down-

low. In other words, this news from Betty was no surprise. And it

made me miss Granny all the more. I wished I had just five more

minutes with her, to tell her how much I too appreciated her.

Things could’ve been so different for me when my parents died.

As it was, I had a good life, and still do, all thanks to her. “She was

a special woman,” I said, reverently.

Betty smiled. “That’s a much better word than difficult, I

think.”

I looked around the room, at the canopy bed, her mother’s

mother’s, if memory served correct. Granny’s housecoat hung

over the edge. I walked over and lifted it up, her familiar floral

perfume filling my nostrils, a flood of memories washing over my

brain all at once. “Nah,” I said. “Granny would’ve liked difficult.

southeRn FRied
17

Always preferred to call a spade a spade. Besides, I think she

took some pride in her, well, her demeanor. Nobody, pardon my

French, screwed with Granny.”

Betty’s laughter flew out of her pursed lips, like a dam that

suddenly burst. “No, Trip. That’s for sure. Not and lived to tell

about it.”

I nodded. She wasn’t speaking out of turn. Again, I looked

around. All was as it has been the last time I was in the room,

just before she shipped me off. Though something was missing,

something strangely not where it should’ve been. Anything else

I might’ve overlooked, but not this. “Her jewelry box is gone,”

I said, not as an accusation, just a statement of fact. “It’s not on

her nightstand.”

Betty’s laughter abruptly stopped, the thin lips returning, a

nervous tic lifting up her eyebrow. “I’m sure it’s around here

somewhere. Maybe it got moved when she was, when she was

taken away. For safe keeping, I mean. I’ll ask Walter.”

“Jeeves.” I couldn’t help but correct her.

“He hates being called that,” she told me.

“Which is why I call him that.”

She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable looking. I had a

suspicion that she knew where the jewelry box had up and

vanished to. It was one of Granny’s prized possessions. Four

generations of jewelry never left her sight for very long. I’d

frequently told her to put it all in a safe, but she said she preferred

to have it nearby. Now it was missing. Granny, I was certain,

was rolling over in her grave, in a manner of speaking, since she

didn’t, in fact, have one just yet. I cringed at the thought.

“If that will be all, Trip, I have work to do,” she said, rather

formally.

“Of course, Betty,” I told her. “And thanks for showing me

the pictures.”

She nodded, curtly, and quickly left me alone. I sat on the bed,

shoulders hunched over. I’d been home barely over an hour and

18 Rob Rosen

just look at all the mischief I’d gotten myself into. What on earth

would the next several days hold? And was I strong enough to

handle it? After all, I was no Granny.

I stared up at the canopy and wagged my finger up to her.

If
up
was in fact where she was. “Well, at least it’s never boring

around here.” It was then I spotted it, wedged into the groove

between the wood and the fabric. I stood on the bed, usually

a big no-no, and retrieved it. It was a ripped piece of paper, a

corner piece, blank. Pink. It gave off a strange smell. Fragrant.

“Granny’s stationary,” I said, pocketing the fragment. I looked

around, but that was all I saw.

And I didn’t have time to look any further. “What on earth

are you doing up there, boy?” It was Pearl, arms akimbo, a nasty

glower on her face. “Get off your granny’s bed this instant.” I

hopped down. “What’re you doing up there anyway?” she asked,

staring up at where the paper had been wedged.

“I, uh, nothing, Pearl. I saw a spider’s web and wanted to

brush it off,” I lied.

She sneered. “Nonsense, boy. Ain’t no spider’s web up there.

Your granny would’ve had a fit. Now get.” She swatted my rump.

“Go get washed up; dinner will be ready soon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, suddenly back to being a teenager all

over again. “What are we having?”

The smile returned to her face. “Fried chicken, turnip greens,

and candied yams.”

And then my smile joined hers. “All my favorites. You

remembered!” I ran in and gave her a hug, more for my benefit

than hers. I needed one right about then.

She patted my back. “As if I’d forget, boy. What, you think

I’m an old woman, not remembering something as important as

that?”

I looked up at her. “You look even younger than the last time

I saw you, Pearl.”

She snickered. “Boy, if your eyes weren’t so green, I’d swear

southeRn FRied
19

you were full of shit.” She pushed me away and winked. “Now

go get washed up before I lose my last bit of patience.”

I ran out of the room, hollering over my shoulder, “Lost it

years ago, Pearl. Years ago.”

I heard her laugh as I took the stairs two at a time, running

into the bathroom at the end of the hall. It was bigger than my

own back home by double, the shower and the tub separate, with

a window overlooking the stables. I stared down and spotted

Zeb grooming one of the mares. Even from a distance he was

adorable, a determined look on his face as he brushed her down,

her flanks trembling as he put his back into it. He turned, wiping

the sweat off his brow, and noticed me, then waved. I waved in

return, my prick growing hard at the very sight of him. Like we’d

know each other for ages.

I got undressed, then hopped in the shower. The water felt

great after such a stressful day. Returning to ones youth, after all,

can be, uh, taxing. Not to mention, that looming funeral, well,

loomed
. I know, that’s a lot of fretting, but give me a break; I’d

suddenly been reorphaned and was just barely holding my shit

together. Though it seemed like I was to have some bit of help

with that.

I heard the door creak open and then click shut. “Pearl?” I

asked, head tilted up beneath the spray of water.

He opened the curtain, smiling big and wide and bright.

“Guess again.”

My smile matched his. “You smell like horse, Zeb,” I told him.

“I think you could use a shower.”

He stripped off his t-shirt. “Then I’m in the right place.”

I stood with my back against the tile, dick making an upward

climb. He kicked off his boots and slid out of his shorts and

socks. Naked and just as hard as me, he got in and closed the

curtain behind him. I put my hands on his shoulders. “I don’t

think the lord of the manor is supposed to sleep with the stable

boy.”

He winked and pressed his chest into mine. “Who’s sleeping?”

20 Rob Rosen

His lips met mine, water dripping down over our faces, our

tongues colliding, his hands wrapped around my waist, rigid cock

to rigid cock. I felt his hand reaching for something behind me,

the soap, I realized. He pulled his face an inch away, and added,

“Besides, I hear I’m quite good at cleaning the animals around

here.”

He grabbed my hands and placed them over my head, sapphire

blue eyes locked on tight with mine as he lathered me up, head

to toe, white bubbles covering up my budding summer tan. Last,

but certainly not least, because, come on, he cleans
horses
for a

living – hint, hint – he grabbed a hold of my dick with his soapy

hand, a million volts of adrenalin shooting straight up my back

as he mashed his mouth into mine. I sighed, exhaling down his

throat. Sex and death. A heady mixture to be sure, and one that

I gladly gave in to.

So, with my fist happily stroking his hefty schlong, and his

working the come up from my balls for a second time that day, I

temporarily forgot the miserable circumstances that brought us

together. Yes, again, we’ll call that the ignorance of youth. But

then, who else could come twice in practically an hour?

Which is just what we did, both of us moaning and groaning,

the sound ricocheting around the tiled room, swirling in my ears

like a swarm of hornets as his load splattered on my lathered

belly, mine on his trembling thighs and buckling knees, our faces

so close together it was impossible to tell where he ended and I

began. He collapsed into me, cheek on my shoulder as he fought

to catch his breath. “You made a mess,” I whispered into his ear.

He laughed, wrapping his hands around me and pulling me in.

“Then thank goodness we’re in the shower already.”

My hands found his ass, my finger gently swirling around his

puckered hole. “Are you bucking for a raise, Zeb?”

Again he laughed. “Did you say bucking or fucking?”

Well, suffice it to say, the witty repartee went on for quite

some time. For a stable boy, he had a rather nice sense of humor.

A rather nice everything, really. But once the lather got washed

southeRn FRied
21

down the drain, reality set in. The funeral was tomorrow. And

then Granny really would be out of my life forever. Meaning, my

youthful ignorance was fast waning, right along with my lengthy

boner.

In any case, Zeb and I toweled off and he hot-footed it out of

the house. He wasn’t kidding when he implied that Pearl would

skin him alive if she found him in the mansion. And it wasn’t

something I wanted to witness either. I’d seen her do coons and

crocs, deer and doves, and that was plenty enough for me, thank

you kindly.

Dinner, however, wasn’t any of those things; it was fried

chicken, the foul purchased at the local Piggly Wiggly. So, in this

instance, I was spared. Mouth watering, I sat at the kitchen table

and greedily breathed in all the familiar aromas, my belly gurgling

in anticipation. New York was full of fabulous restaurants, but

none of them could hold a candle to Pearl’s cooking. Not by a

country mile. “I’m so hungry I could eat with a Yankee,” I said,

using one of Granny’s colorful expressions.

Pearl turned and smiled. “You are a Yankee, Trip. Ten years

makes it official.”

I moved my head from side to side. “Nuh uh. You can take

the boy out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the

boy.”

And then she sighed, turning back to her work, plating our

meals. “And you ain’t no boy no more, neither.” She turned and

set our meals down on the table, then put a folded piece of paper

to the side of my plate.

“What’s that?” I asked, my heart suddenly racing.

She sat down and looked at me. “The lawyer’s office called.

That there’s the list of us who’s expected at the reading of the

will the day after tomorrow.”

I lifted the paper up and unfolded it, a pit forming in my

stomach where once a joyous hunger had been. “Any surprises?”

I thought to ask before I read what she’d written down.

Pearl scratched her chin, pausing to think before she replied.

22 Rob Rosen

“Surprises?” she said. “Not rightly sure, seeing as I don’t know

what’s been left to them. I mean, your granny was a lot of things,

Trip.”

“A lot,” I interrupted.

“But deep on down to the roots, she was a fine woman. Took

care of those that took care of her.”

“Meaning, everyone is on this list?”

“Meaning that, yes.” I read down the length of the paper as

she recited if from memory. “There’s you, of course. Me, of

course, otherwise you’d never live to hear the end of it. Jeeves,

listed as Walter, of course. Then the not so of courses. Betty, the

maid, Jake, the pool man, Roy, the gardener, Zeb the stable boy,

and Stella, the handy, uh, man.”

“The handyman’s name is Stella?” I couldn’t help but ask.

She laughed, her jowls shaking as she did so. “Well now, boy,

just you wait until you meet Stella, then you’ll understand. Now

let’s dig in; food’s gettin’ cold.”

“Wait,” I said, my eyes landing on one more name at the very

bottom of the list. “Who’s this Beau Pellingham? Never heard of

him before. Does he work here too?”

She shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. Surely not that I can

recall. Guess we’ll find out soon enough, though.”

I shrugged as well, that pit in my belly swelling. But Pearl

was right, we’d just have to wait and see who he was. Then she