Sudden Anger

214 Pages·2013·0.99 MB·English

by  Parker Jack

BOOK ONE

JACK PARKER
Copyright © 2013 by Jack Parker

Cover and internal design © 2013 by Jack Parker

Sudden Anger

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
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
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; everything 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