P.J. Morse - Clancy Parker 02 - Exile on Slain Street Read Online Free Page A

Laguna Beach Mafia . I can’t believe you saw that.” I grabbed my laptop, which I’d parked on Harold’s coffee table, and looked up what other “reality merry-go-round” she’d been on. The show was Bikini Girls Ahoy! , a show that Kevin also produced, which was about aspiring swimsuit models. She was listed as being on for only three episodes, so Kevin probably felt like he owed her more screen time. She was pretty, but in a way that was more wholesome and wide-eyed than the rest of the women. If Dawn were the innocent and Tina and Andi were the tramps, then Lorelai fell somewhere in between.
    When we were finished with the DVD, Wayne mumbled, “I feel like I just ate a whole bag of junk food. With my brain.”
    Shane shook an empty bowl that once held nacho chips and replied, “I did eat a whole bag of junk food! And it was great! Clancy, you are a lucky woman!”
    “I don’t know,” Harold declared. As our official elder, he always had the final say on everything. “All of these women would drive me bonkers.”
    I had to agree. Each woman on the tape acted as if being on camera was her god-given right. Some of them, like Dawn, Lorelai and Cookie, seemed like they might be relatively easy to deal with, but even they looked into the camera as if they expected it to fill a gaping hole in their lives.

Chapter Four:
Eau De Psycho
    W hen Kevin pulled up in his silver Mercedes, Harold and I were already waiting outside the apartment. While he got out, he jabbered away into a clip-on cell phone earpiece, yelling at someone that they needed to get more champagne for the first night of shooting, or there would be hell to pay. “And don’t get the rosé this time — that shit stains the carpet!” he yelled.
    He then turned to me and smiled, as if he hadn’t been shouting a second before. He wore a grey shirt that had the slightest bit of glitter. He reminded me of one of those alpha-male seals who preened themselves on Fisherman’s Wharf and basked in the adoration of the tourists. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you. We’ve got trouble already. The stalker is back, and she’s writing love notes.”
    He handed it to me. The paper and the envelope were light purple. It was spattered with a darker red color. After Kevin popped open the trunk and let me throw my duffel bag in the back, I opened the letter. The lines had been printed out in a plain black font:
     
    Purple is for the king
    Purple is for what I want, the ring
    Purple is the blood that will spill when I do my thing
     
    Harold leaned over my shoulder to read the missive. “Well, she’s not much of a poet, huh?” He sniffed the envelope and wrinkled his nose. “And she is heavily perfumed. Methinks you will find her by her eau de psycho .”
    “Who’s this guy?” Kevin asked, pointing at Harold.
    “Harold Cho. My landlord and spiritual advisor.”
    Kevin shook Harold’s hand. He was about a foot taller than Harold and three times as wide. Harold said, “Take good care of her, will you?”
    Kevin stepped back and looked from Harold to me. “He might be good on camera.”
    “Ooooh!” Harold clapped his hands.
    “Hold your horses, Harold,” Kevin told him. “I just know an interesting personality when I see one.”
    “You are not kidding,” I said.
    Kevin stroked his black goatee. “We haven’t gone after the over-60 demographic, but everyone loves a naughty elderly person. Look at Betty White! Cloris Leachman!”
    Harold asked Kevin, “Should I swap my AARP card for a SAG card?” Then the two nudged each other like old pals. Harold said, “Me and the Marquee Idols are betting on Andi for the runner-up and Lorelai for the win.”
    “What? Not Clancy for the win?” Kevin chuckled, but he looked at his cell phone.
    At that point, Harold’s face turned serious. “Just get her home safely.”
    “You got it, buddy,” Kevin said. “We’ll call you if we need you.”
    Kevin and I got in the car, and I saw Harold standing,