Deadly Dosage Read Online Free

and left, being sure to lock up
behind me.
    A dusting of snow covered my brand spanking new, black Kia
Forte Koup. At 1.9% financing, I could not pass it up and I splurged on the
navigation package. I’m a lousy map-reader and Autumn told me I deserved it.
Usually when I buy stuff, it’s due to Autumn’s insistence. I’m not a tightwad
by any means; I just don’t like spending money on myself. My only regret is
that it didn’t have four-wheel drive, since I’m not the best driver in winter,
which seems to encompass half the year in Wisconsin.
    As I drew closer, I noticed a glimmer of silver running
across the top of the door on the driver’s side. “Shit!” I screamed into the
winter wind, running my gloved finger across the car’s first blemish. Someone
had scraped the finish off with a key. The voices in my head told me Sam did
it. “Okay,” I said softly, trying to get my rage in check. “Revenge is best
when served up cold.” His day would come, when he least expected it. I jumped
in and slammed the door shut. I cursed once more and drove off.
    When the car began heating up, I hit the play button on the
CD player and sang along to “Dreamer” by Supertramp. It only took a little over
fifteen minutes to get to my dad’s house, yet the car heater worked great and I
was nice and toasty, almost hot by the time I arrived. However, four seconds
after I opened my car door upon arrival, I was freezing again. I ran around
Spring’s company car parked in the middle of the drive, pulled the front door
opened and quickly stepped inside the house.
    My parents divorced when I was a feisty fourteen. Spring just
turned seventeen at the time and became quite melodramatic and Autumn, going on
twelve, became withdrawn. I took it in stride outwardly. Internally, I cried.
Things are never quite the same after a divorce no matter how hard you try; you
can’t bring back the past. Long story short, they told us they just grew apart,
still friends but with no romance. I think that’s why Spring, Autumn and I are
all a little afraid of commitment.
    My parents’ house hadn’t changed since the divorce;
traditional late sixties style, white brick with burgundy trim with yews out
front and a huge silver Maple tree by my old bedroom window. Mom didn’t want
the upkeep of a house, so she moved into a chic downtown condo in a renovated
brewery close to the travel agency where she was employed, and had been there
for the last twenty years.
    Dad stayed in the suburbs where he fit in and did his best to
finish raising us while working for Bucyrus-Erie as a mechanical engineer. Mom
took us on trips each year; free travel benefits extended to immediate family.
We stayed close, and saw her most weekends, however none of us wanted to live
downtown and the city schools weren’t the greatest, still aren’t.
    Usually when I entered my childhood home, my dad would be
cooking something. Today was no different. I inhaled the distinct aroma of chop
suey as I entered the kitchen. “Yum,” I said lifting the pot cover.
    “Have some,” said my dad.
    “Do we have time?” 
    Spring looked at the wall clock. “Go ahead; we have
forty-five minutes to kill before the movie.”
    I dished out heaping spoonfuls into a bowl, crumbed some
crunchy noodles on top, and drowned it in soy sauce. I sat at the table and
chowed down. “Delicious,” I managed to squeak out between mouthfuls.
    “Don’t you eat at home?” my dad asked with concern.
    “Tapeworm,” I said. He laughed and slopped some more into my
bowl.
    “I hope you get fat,” Spring said somewhat seriously. Spring
tended to pack on the pounds easily. She complained she practically lived on
the road and had to eat what was available. I told her to make healthier
choices. Willpower isn’t her strong suit, yet she never seemed more than ten
pounds overweight. At the present time, she looked great.
         Unlike
Autumn and I, Spring always looks professional. At 5’6”, she towers