by Parker, Jack
GRACIE’S GAME (Gracie Greene Mysteries)
BOOK 1 - Sudden Anger
BOOK 2 - Accidentally on Purpose
by
JACK PARKER
Copyright © 2014 by Jack Parker
Cover and internal design © 2014 by Jack Parker
Gracie’s Game
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used or reproduced, in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locations is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Sudden Anger
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
Accidentally on Purpose
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Sudden Anger
Book 1 in the Gracie’s Game
CHAPTER 1
"Oh, Mo-om!" Gracie Greene's voice held all the disgust and personal injury that only a sixteen year old girl can inject into a tone. "Puh-lease, do we have to go?" Gracie had just come in from her room in response to her mother's call and they were standing in the middle of the living room, squared off in front of each other in a scene every parent of a teenager is overly familiar with.
The room should've given off a quiet and controlled serenity with its pale blue walls and carpeting in a medium shade of gray. The very traditionally styled furniture was a dark wood with upholstery in maroon or black. But the room held surprising touches of color and whimsy, giving it a comfortable and inviting ambience. Pictures of lovely sunny landscapes adorned the walls, and there was a profusion of throw pillows in shades of orange, blue, and gold; all sported images of brightly-colored art deco flowers, looking more like stained-glass than fabric. Houseplants sat on many of the tables, with taller ones in the corners. Those were Gracie's contribution to the décor.
"Don't you want to see your brother?" her mother asked. "He doesn't come home from college very often; I thought you'd like to spend some time with him." She shook her head rather sadly. "Though God knows I can't really blame him for not wanting to deal with this dysfunctional family. We don't have room for him to stay here, and he and your dad don't get along."
"Yeah, I'd like to see Clarke." Gracie made it sound like it was the last thing she wanted to admit. She shuffled her feet and hung her head, then rolled her eyes upward so she could see her mother. "It's just that I probably won't get much time to talk to him with everyone else there. And I sure don't want to see that bimbo."
"I don't like her either, Gracie. She's the quintessential trophy wife and I'm sure all she wants from him is his money. I knew your father would get married again after I divorced him; I think they deserve each other! Though I suspect your dad keeps her on a pretty tight leash. She's certainly not wearing designer fashions or dripping diamonds. However, I'd really prefer you didn't use that term. It's demeaning."
Gracie's posture changed from contrite to confrontational. "She deserves it, Mom," she replied with some heat. "All she ever talks about is clothes, jewelry, make-up and wanting to re-decorate the house. She's pretty, I'll give her that, but she doesn't have a brain in her head. I suppose Justin will be there, too."
The sudden change of topic threw her mother for an instant and she gave her daughter a confused look. She should be used to that from Gracie by now. "He lives there, Gracie. Don't you think I want to see my other son too?" she asked, her tone begging her daughter to see her side of things. "I know he's going through a stage of acting like his parents are too stupid to live, but I love him too."
"I know you do, Mom," Gracie replied grudgingly, relaxing her stance a bit. "It's just that he always acts so dorky." Privately Gracie thought, "And you can't see that he's stoned half the time. It's probably the only way he knows to get some attention from Dad."
"There'll be other people there. Bill will be there, I'm sure. You and he can talk about saving the planet. Bring your suit, so you can go swimming."
"How can I save the planet if we take the SUV? It uses twice the gas that Clay's truck does, can we use it?" she asked. She turned to look at the man sitting on the couch. "Clay, can we take your truck if we have to go?"
Clay Wilson was a tall, dark, and handsome architect who was pretending to read the newspaper so he could keep his nose out of this embarrassing discussion. He looked up, blinked as if focusing on the situation for the first time, and said, "Uh, sure, I guess. If it's OK with your Mom." He looked at his girlfriend questioningly. "I don't mind, Clarissa," he said.
"I'd rather take the Escalade," Clarissa Stewart said firmly. "It's a little mean of me, I know, but I like to remind Charles that he had to pay for it in the divorce. Think of it as car-pooling, Gracie, since there will be three of us. That spreads the carbon footprint out a little, doesn't it?"
"Not really, Mom," she said. "You don't need the Caddy, it's huge. I don't know why you don't get a smaller car - one that gets better mileage." Gracie was serious about all things environmental.
"Well, for one thing, it's paid for. I could afford to get something smaller, I just don't see why I should spend money when I've already got a perfectly good car," her mother replied reasonably.
Clay folded the paper and laid it on the coffee table. "I'm just gonna go move my truck," he said as he stood up. "You guys better get a move-on, party starts at 1:00 and it's a quarter 'til now." He stuck his hand in his pocket and jingled the keys as he walked out of the room.
"Clay's right, we'd better get going," Clarissa said. They'd had the car discussion many times, and she really didn't want to go through it all again. She'd gotten a good settlement from the divorce; she'd bought a nice, if small, house in a pleasant neighborhood with a chunk of it. She'd gotten a job mostly because she'd wanted to, it gave her something to do; but it also allowed her to manage her expenses without dipping into those funds, like buying a new car. She knew Gracie had a valid point, but Gracie seemed to think money magically appeared in your bank account. That was probably because her father gave her everything she showed the least bit of interest in; ev
erything except his time and attention.
Which reminded her. "Take your iPod, that way you can tune us out if you want to. Now, go get changed and don't forget your swim suit."
Gracie turned her head to glance at the front door and said, "I don't think Clay really wants to go either, Mom."
"I doubt it's high on his list of afternoon activities," she said. "But he knows this is important to me, and he loves me, so he's willing to go along. I like having Clay with me when I go over there."
"That's because it pisses Dad off to see you with a man that treats you decently," Gracie said.
"Well, yes, it does," her mother replied with a grin. "Anything wrong with that?"
Gracie grinned, too. "No there's not. Clay's a nice-looking guy, and way smarter than Miss Big Boobs. I don't know why you don't marry him. He sleeps here every weekend!"
Clarissa's face took on a slightly worried look. "We haven't really talked about it," she said a little haltingly. "Neither of us had good marriages, we don't want to jump into another one too soon. Besides, I like having time for myself - and time to spend with you. I'm not sure we'd have that if I married Clay."
"Jennifer does have huge honkers, doesn't she," Clarissa continued, changing another uncomfortable subject. I'll bet you an ice-cream cone that she's wearing something that shows everything but nipples. Rocky Road!"
"No bet!" Gracie said. "It's gross the way she bends over all the time. I can understand her wanting to give the guys a good view, but I don't know why she thinks I'd be interested."
"She does it to me, too. I think she wants us to feel inadequate." Clarissa looked at her watch and said, "We're going to be late - go get changed!"
Gracie mentally compared their clothes. Her mother wore white slacks and a red print blouse; expensive, but not excessively so. She was still an attractive woman at forty, lithe and graceful and careful to keep her figure in good shape. Her dark shoulder-length hair was cut in a flattering and current style, framing an oval face and showing off her bright blue eyes. She wore some good-quality costume jewelry, and had had a fresh manicure that morning. "Mom's trying to look classy to show up that gold-digger - but she's doing a great job of it!" Gracie thought to herself.
Gracie considered herself average in all ways. Average height, average weight, average face, average figure. In actuality she was what was called "nice looking", pretty without being gorgeous. She had a nice figure but had inherited some of her dad's chunkiness, which bothered her a little; she was used to comparing herself to her mother's svelte stature and hadn't yet figured out that curvy was good too. Her long straight hair was medium brown, a cross between her mother's near-black and dad's sandy blond. She had pretty blue eyes and a Cupid's bow mouth in an oval face without makeup - she liked the "natural look" (makeup contained chemicals), and carried it off well.
She looked down at her own jean-shorts and T-shirt (it read 'There Is No Planet B') and said, "I'm fine, Mom. You can dress up if you want, but I'm not gonna try to impress Dad. He'll just have to accept me the way I am. These are cotton, they're natural; it doesn't take as much processing to make them."
Clay opened the front door, stuck his head in and yelled, "C'mon Ladies, we need to get a wiggle on!"
Clarissa turned towards him and said, "Be there in a sec!" Then to Gracie, "I'll meet you out front, go get your stuff."
With a loud sigh of resignation Gracie headed to her room.
CHAPTER 2
Gracie trailed after her mother and Clay as they walked down the flagstone path and opened the gate to the backyard. She could hear the party from the driveway, Dad liked to show off his expensive sound system. Too bad he liked that 80's crap, she wondered how the neighbors could stand it. It never occurred to her that it was "their" music too.
Dad lived in the biggest house in a ritzy neighborhood full of doctors and lawyers and other self-important types. It was a two-story house made of long thin pieces of light-brown stone that Dad insisted on calling a "gold" color. Its right-angled lines and white trim made it look blocky and sterile to Gracie, but Dad said it was modern and stylish. Even the wide opening to the covered front porch had no curves. The lush landscaping only seemed to point out the square artificiality of the house, in spite of the natural stone façade. Gracie shuddered to think how much fertilizer it took to keep the lawn and shrubs looking so perfect.
She could see the pool as they rounded the corner of the house; Justin and his buddy Zack were doing cannonballs. Everyone else was on the patio, away from the probability of being splashed. The covered stone-floored patio ran the entire length of the house, and was divided into several conversation areas with different groups of chairs and occasional tables. Some were wrought iron and others wicker; all the cushions were a solid dark green. Today there was a long table in front of the sliding glass doors, and a large ice chest beside it.
An expanse of meticulously kept lawn (now studded with white plastic folding tables and chairs for the party) sloped very slightly down from the patio to the Olympic-sized pool. The pool was surrounded by a rectangle of concrete covered in artificial turf, which was dotted by several loungers. At least the cushions there were green-and-white striped so they stood out a little, Gracie thought. In the far southeast corner next to the tall cedar-plank fence was a small white building; referred to as the "pool house" its main function was storage for all the floats and toys.
Gracie's dad stood up from his chair on the patio as they walked in. Charles Greene was a big man, loud and cheerful and enjoying playing the gracious host. At forty-six he'd added a few pounds to an already-solid physique, and careful styling concealed a small-but-growing bald spot in his sandy hair. He wasn't a conventionally handsome man; his face was rather plain, his eyes close-set, and his nose a bit large, but his outgoing personality more than made up for it. Today he was wearing khaki shorts and a particularly loud Hawaiian shirt. Knowing her father Gracie figured he'd ordered it straight from Hawaii. He'd probably paid too much for it, too; Dad liked to impress people with his wealth.
Charles made a great show of kissing his ex-wife on the cheek and shaking Clay's hand before waving them both off to the tiki-bar set up just off the patio.
"Gracie, Baby!" he cried as he threw an arm around her shoulders. "Good to see you. Family's all here, just like old times." He waved his other arm expansively to indicate the crowd, sloshing a little of the Scotch from his glass onto the front of her shirt. "Sorry, Baby, I'll buy you a new one. Something pretty for my Princess, not some cheap T-shirt billboard." He didn't sound sorry.
Gracie rubbed the wet spot against her jeans to blot it as best she could. "It's OK, Dad," she said. "It'll wash." She refused to rise to the barb about the shirt, she knew he meant well. She stretched upwards a bit to kiss him on the cheek. "How're you doing? Looks like you've outdone yourself on this one!" The bar-top was covered with bottles, the table in front of the patio doors looked like it ought to collapse from the weight of catered munchies, salads, and side-dishes, and she could see a tall pile of steaks next to the smoking grill.
"Doin' great, Baby," her dad said. "Number One Son doesn't come home a lot, he's busy working on the grades (or is it the babes?) so he can carry on the family tradition of making tons of moolah. Gotta throw him a big bash to show him how good it is to see him. Especially since it's spring and we can enjoy the great outdoors."
Out by the pool Justin belted out his imitation of a Tarzan yell as he jumped off the diving board. "Hey, Dude, you're gettin' me all wet!" Zack cackled at his own lame humor. Gracie turned to watch as Justin hauled himself out of the pool. The boys put their heads together to whisper, then both grabbed towels and headed out to the pool house.
"Oh, like nobody knows what they're gonna go do," Gracie thought. "I know all about the joints he hides in the First Aid kit."
Turning her attention back to her dad Gracie said, "Nobody can throw a party like my Dad!"
Charles guided her over to a conversation area and they sat down. "
Hey Baby," he said. "I've got a big surprise for you! How'd you like a brand-new car?"
Gracie had known that any "surprise" would be something material, and "big" indicated it would be more expensive than usual. But - "A car, Dad?" she said in surprise.
"Sure, Baby! You're sixteen now, time you had some real wheels." Her dad wiggled his eyebrows at her, he was obviously pleased with this announcement. "Bicycles are for kids, and you're a young lady now."
"But Dad," Gracie started. "Um, I like the bike, it doesn't pollute." She'd started to disparage the idea of herself driving a car, but quickly realized this would hurt her father's feelings. Besides, there were times when a car would be nice. "Ooh, I know - would you get me a Prius?" she asked hopefully.
"Whadda ya want one of those things for!" her dad said with a good deal of disgust. "They're ugly."
"Looks aren't everything, Dad. They don't use near as much gas as most cars." Gracie was trying to make her father understand what was important to her.
"You don't have to worry about gas prices, Baby," he said. "I'll give you a credit card so you can fill up as often as you like."
Gracie smiled understandingly. "I know, Dad. It's not the money, it's the idea."
"I'm damned if I'll have people thinking I can't afford to give my Baby Girl a real car!" Charles sounded offended at the very thought. "I had in mind something cool, say a new Mustang."
"Dad, I appreciate the offer, I really do," Gracie said. "But I don't care what other people think, I don't care if I'm cool. If I'm gonna drive a car I want it to be the most energy-efficient one possible. It's not what you have to pay for the gas, it's about how much gas you use and what it does to the air."
"You're taking this "green Greene" thing a little too far, aren't you?" he asked a little sardonically. "I mean, recycling the newspaper is one thing but how are you gonna feel in a couple years when you're still driving that fad car and all your friends are heading off to college in something nice?"