B.B. and Red

By Stephen Lomer

B.B. and Red is a collection of high-caliber, cross-genre short stories from the mind that brought you Stargazer Lilies or Nothing at All. The tale of Little Red Riding Hood gets updated with a sexy new twist. A plumber finds out the hard way what’s wrong with a client’s toilet. A scientist achieves his dream of crossing over to another dimension . . . or does he? All of this and more awaits you in the pages of this exciting new collection!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Lomer
• Release date: Sep 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370151981

Stephen Lomer

Stephen Lomer has been writing books, novellas, short stories, and scripts for nearly a decade, and one or two of them are actually pretty good. A grammar nerd, Star Trek fan, and other things that chicks dig, Stephen is the creator, owner, and a regular contributor to the website Television Woodshed. He’s a hardcore fan of the Houston Texans, despite living in the Hub of the Universe his whole life, and believes Mark Twain was correct about pretty much everything. Stephen lives on Boston’s North Shore with his wife, Teresa.

Book preview

B.B.

AND

RED

STEPHEN LOMER

Copyright © 2017 Port Nine Publishing

All rights reserved.

The events and characters presented

in this book are works of fiction.

Any similarity to persons or places living

or dead is purely coincidental and unintended.

www.stephenlomer.com

ISBN: 9781370151981

DEDICATION

To Patricia Ann Boudreault, the inspiration for

Maybe God Left Us Out of the Plans He Made.

I hope you were able to hear me.

ALSO AVAILABLE

BY STEPHEN LOMER

Stargazer Lilies or Nothing at All

Typo Squad

Hell’s Nerds

CONTENTS

I. B.B. AND RED

II. A SPEEDY CONCLUSION

III. ANY LAST WORDS

IV. NO PLACE LIKE HOME

V. MAYBE GOD LEFT US OUT OF THE PLANS HE MADE

VI. DEFENDING THE WALL

VII. A WEEK BACK

VIII. JAIL BRAKE

IX. BRAINS AND GUTS

X. STONE’S THROW

XI. LITTLE RICKY’S NIGHT OUT

XII. ROYAL FLUSH

XIII. A POUND OF CURE

I.

B.B. AND RED

My name is Red. This is my story.

The day was gray and overcast. A cold, bitter wind blew what few dead leaves remained off the skeletal branches. It was a bad day for traveling—for any outdoor activity, really—but that wouldn’t dissuade me. I’d get to my grandmother’s house or freeze to death trying.

It wasn’t love for my grandmother that convinced me to wrap myself in my heavy traveling cloak and pack food and a bottle of wine in my basket. No, not love by a long shot. Grandmother and I don’t get along, and probably never will. But grandmother owns that gorgeous house in the woods. The one with central air and the indoor swimming pool. As long as I kept in the old bag’s good graces, the house would be mine someday. Grandmother had a case of the sniffles. So I was off.

The wind whipped my long black hair around as I stepped out on the path toward the woods. If I’d been off to meet one of the boys—even Sneezy—I would have been annoyed that I’d soon be completely windswept. But it was just grandmother, after all. The old battle axe was half-blind as it was, and sometimes thought I was a girl she knew in her youth named Gretel. Whatever. With any luck, my next trip to the house would be as the owner, not a visitor.

I reached the edge of the woods and paused as I peered into the dark corridor formed by the denuded trees. Now, I’m a brave one—anyone who knows me would likely list gutsy and sexy as my top two qualities, and not necessarily in that order—but the darkness and the howling wind made me think twice, if only for a moment, about finishing my journey.

I stepped into the woods and picked up my pace.

I’d only been on the path for a few minutes when I saw him. He was a few yards ahead, leaning against a tree, looking as though he hadn’t a care in the world. My heart skipped a beat. I knew this day had to come, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say or do. Or what he might say or do.

I took a deep breath as I walked boldly up to him, a fixed smirk on my face.

Well, well, I said. If it isn’t B.B. Wolf.

B.B. turned his attention toward me and a wide, toothy grin split his face. I felt heat spreading from my chest to my extremities.

Heya Red, he said, his voice deep and smooth as silk. My, my, you look good enough to eat.

My smirk became a smile in spite of myself. If anyone would know, you would.

B.B. chuckled softly. It ain’t fit for man nor beast out here today, Red. Where ya headed?

I held up my basket. Gertrude’s.

B.B.’s eyes widened. That rattling old sack of bones is still alive? She must be in her late hundreds by now.

Yeah, the Grim Reaper’s moved into her guest room, I said. He doesn’t want to be too far away.

This time B.B. laughed out loud. I thought you didn’t get along with granny.

I don’t, I replied. She’s a real pain in the ass. But I’m in the will. And if I want to stay in the will, I’ve got to come running every time she gets so much as a hangnail. I wish she’d just kick off, for heaven’s sake.

B.B.’s expression grew thoughtful. He stared at me so long that I became uncomfortable.

What? I demanded finally.

B.B. took a few steps toward me and took me by the shoulders. I looked up at him and felt the old familiar heat between us.

Things didn’t work out for us the way I wanted them to, B.B. said with surprising softness, but I still feel the way I always did about you, Red. And you know I’d do anything for you. You know that.

I cleared my throat. I know.

So why don’t you let me do you a favor? B.B. said, his hot breath warming my cold cheeks.

What kind of favor?

B.B. looked over to the left at a thatch of crocuses. I think your grandmother would like some flowers too, he said. Why don’t you spend a little time here picking some while I go take care of a few things?

Comprehension dawned and my face lit up. You’re so right, I said with false enthusiasm. Grandma does love crocuses, after all. Well, don’t let me keep you from your errands, Mr. Wolf.

B.B. flashed one last dangerous smile and then disappeared in a flash. I wandered slowly over to the flower patch and squatted down next to them. As I deliberately picked them one at a time, I muttered under my breath, I’ll put these on your grave, you senile old bag.

I arrived at the house a short while later. Nothing looked out of place, but my excitement grew more and more as I approached the front door. I knocked.

Come in! came a strange, quavering voice from inside. I swung the door wide and stepped inside. I pulled off my traveling cloak and hung it by the door, and then made my way hesitantly to the bedroom.

Grandmother? I called out.

In here, darling, came that same yodeling voice again.

I walked in the room and couldn’t believe my eyes. There was B.B. in my grandmother’s bed, wearing one of my grandmother’s nightgowns and cap, and what looked like her spare reading glasses. I burst out laughing.

Oh, you sick freak! I said finally.

Come closer, dear, B.B. said, grinning. Granny can’t hear so well these days.

I put my hands behind my back and approached the bed coyly.

My goodness, grandmother, I said in mock astonishment. What big eyes you have.

All the better to see you with, B.B. said in his cracking grandmother voice.

And what big arms you have, I said.

All the better to hug you with, B.B. replied.