“Yeah, I guess,” I muttered as I teetered up off the couch. “You sit here and get some more rest or go take your bath. I’ll get supper started and fix us some drinks.”

I didn’t agree with Milton about holding off on Odell. But I wanted him to think I did. I had already made up my mind that I was going to approach Odell as soon as I could and hit him up for a few dollars to spend on myself. And I wouldn’t tell Milton.

* * *

Friday was when Odell disappeared until Sunday evening, every week. For years, he had been feeding Joyce and everybody else a flimsy cock-and-bull story that he went to his daddy’s house to help his stepmother take care of his sick daddy on weekends—and a few times during the week. The old man lived on the outskirts of town near the swamps. Odell had to drive down a long dark spooky road to get there and he claimed that it took a lot of time to do whatever he had to do, so he always stayed overnight. Brother Lonnie was in poor health, physically and mentally. He hardly ever left his house, but me and Milton bumped into him and his wife, Ellamae, at a fish market two months ago. He looked like he was ready to be embalmed, and nothing he said made much sense. When I brung up Odell’s name, Lonnie gave me a blank look and had to think hard for a few moments to know who I was talking about. Ellamae was such a mean-spirited heifer, people was scared to visit them, so nobody could verify that Odell spent all that time at his daddy’s house. Now that we knew about his business in Hartville with Betty Jean, it was plain as day that his “sick daddy visits” story was hogwash.

I was anxious to see how much I could get from Odell, and I had to get to him before he hit the road tomorrow evening. I couldn’t wait to see his face tomorrow afternoon when he seen mine.

CHAPTER 3 - YVONNE

CHAPTER 3

YVONNE

WHEN I GOT IN BED, ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WAS MY MEETING with Odell tomorrow.

I wondered what Milton would say if he knew I’d been blackmailing Odell, too. I didn’t like to deceive my husband, and I probably wouldn’t have if Odell hadn’t told me that Milton had been blackmailing him behind my back since July. I had a feeling he’d been using his hush money to gamble with. I spent mine mostly on personal items and household expenses. Whatever I got from Odell tomorrow, which I hoped would be at least fifty or sixty bucks, I’d sock it away for when we really needed it. But first I’d treat myself to a new pair of sparkly earbobs and some rouge.

* * *