Pary Barry & John- Pigmalion: PB & J, #12

By Kamaryn Kelsey

Mysterious dinner invitations, the usual summons servings, and an unexpected employment opportunity might possibly be more than even Parody Hope Barry can handle. Which is too bad because the employment, while unusual, has the potential for big bucks... okay, enough to pay another bill. But still, how can she turn it down? She's in demand, she's loved, she's making money, and she's in trouble!

Even with help from her handsome neighbor, John Smith, somehow things go from bad to worse- in typical Pary fashion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kamaryn Kelsey
• Release date: Jun 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386935285

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

This is not a stand alone book.

Chapter 1

I know you're in there, Pary, John Smith shouted as he pounded on the apartment door of his neighbor, Parody Hope Barry (AKA Pary or PB). John put his ear to the door and heard muffled sounds. Like the sound Pary would make if she was trying to hide from someone, say, oh, like her across the hall neighbor. John let her get in a few more thumps and hushed sounds of pain before he played his ace. I have that key you gave me... remember? More sounds, only this time not muffled, but definitely painful.

The door flew open, and John saw Pary's apartment in all its crazy, colorful glory. He held a hand to his eyes, as though blinded, and complained, Why didn't you warn me? He had to look down because Pary was doubled over, rubbing her obviously bruised shins.

She stood up with a look somewhere between anger and guilt. Her light brown hair was a mess, and it was obvious she'd had to crawl out of her hiding spot since her clothes were askew. At least John thought they might be. It was often hard to tell with Pary. If she loved a towel or an afghan, she might try wearing it as a garment. Her few freckles gave her a deceptively innocent look, but John knew better. The same with those gray eyes. She could put those to good use, like any Oscar worthy actress... when it suited her needs. And apparently this was one of those moments. For an average size, average looking woman, Pary hid a host of talents that John would prefer not to know, let alone experience.

Why, John, what a surprise, she said with a cheerful smile pasted on her face. I didn't know you were planning to come over.

I wasn't, he said, pushing his way past her into the apartment. He looked around at the kaleidoscope crazy decorations. Is that new? he asked, deliberately provoking her. The crazy daisy afghan he pointed to had probably been left behind by whoever rented the apartment forty years ago, and John knew it.

Pary brows went down with a snap. No, John! Are you blind? She lifted its near twin from one of her chairs and tossed it at him. This is the new one.

It was as old and ugly as the other, in John's opinion. Please tell me those things don't mate and produce spawn, he said with a shudder as he let the afghan fall without making an attempt to catch it.

Pary raced over and picked it up, brushing it like a beloved pet. John snorted. That was as close to a pet as she would likely ever have, given her disastrous history with real pets of all sorts.

She glared. Why are you here?

Good. He had succeeded in distracting her, which made it likely she might slip up and actually tell the truth. John asked, You wouldn't happen to know why management showed up at my door and accused me of drawing a hopscotch board on the sixth floor hallway, would you?

The flash of guilt, quickly replaced by an innocent look from widened gray eyes gave him the answer.

John, why are you asking me? Why aren't you pestering the people who live on the sixth floor?

That's what I asked the building manager. Guess what he told me? The people on the sixth floor described a woman who looked remarkably like you, and she told them her name was Mrs. Smith and she lived on the fifth floor.

Pary's eyes got bigger. John, what are the odds of that? she asked in awe. I hope they find the other Mr. & Mrs. Smith, because I'd like to meet her. We could be sisters. Maybe her Mr. Smith is tall, dark, and handsome with brown eyes and brown hair with a few grays. John, do you have a twin brother?

That's really stretching it, even for you, he replied in exasperation. Wait! Let me see those hands, he demanded, and Pary immediately shoved them behind her back.

A short wrestling match ensued and John pulled Pary's hands close to examine them.

What's under your fingernails? he asked.

Pary looked at her hands like she'd never seen them before. She bit her upper lip and squinted, sure signs she was doing some fast thinking. Before she could come up with a plausible lie, John said, It's chalk, Pary. The same colors that were used for the hopscotch board one floor up. I know because I was forced to go look at it.

Pary's mouth dropped. John, I think someone is trying to frame me, she hissed. "I mean, what are the chances that there are two women who look like me, use the same colors of chalk, play hopscotch,