The Red Hairing: PB & J, #20

By Kamaryn Kelsey

Pary's court-mandated "job" as a meter maid for the city becomes complicated when she discovers that she's being followed by international bad guys. Trying to stay one step ahead of them brings about unintentional consequences for herself, John, and the city. She enlists the help of computer genius Tweeter who, in turn, needs a most unusual favor in return. Of course, mayhem ensues in typical Pary fashion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kamaryn Kelsey
• Release date: Mar 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215303399

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 Book 20 of the Pary Barry & John Series.

Chapter 1

John, why are you so mad? This isn’t my fault.

Pary’s eyes flipped sideways and she decided that John’s pale knuckles and red face were an improvement over the white fists and purple face he displayed five minutes ago. She sighed deeply.

I don’t think Miss Lorna was happy when you called her a nosy home-wrecking spinster with nothing better to do than air people's dirty laundry because her 18-hour bra and granny panties had long since given up the fight and held no interest to anyone. Maybe if you call her and apologize she will let us back on the show.

John’s eye twitched, and he slapped it. Through stiff lips, he growled, I’m not calling that...

Watch your language!

I’m not calling her, I’m not apologizing, and I’m not going back on that show, Pary!

She scowled and demanded, Then why did you agree to it?

John lost his expression of outrage and laughed. Are you kidding me? I didn’t know The Love Loop was a live radio show for couples who can’t figure out that cheating, compulsive gambling, and refusing to bathe aren’t conducive to a happy relationship. Do you really think Miss Lorna can fix that? And why would anyone want to broadcast their relationship issues to a radio audience?

Drr! They do it because it’s easier to tell someone bad news when there’s another person there to help take the heat off. Not to mention the support of the listeners who call in.

His brows rose. Are you trying to say that you’ve been cheating on me?

Don’t be stupid, she replied. Then her eyes narrowed. Wait, is the reason you ran out of the studio because there’s something you’re afraid to tell me?

I walked out because I thought the Love Loop was something we could buy at the adult store, he explained.

Her face turned red. John, if you think we need those kinds of things to be happy, then you’d better drive back to the radio station so we can talk with Miss Lorna.

Without responding, he pulled into the parking garage across the street from their apartment and rolled into his assigned spot. Then he shut off the engine and turned to Pary.

I never said that, Bear.

You implied it. Her brows dipped to fighting mode and he took a deep breath.

No, I assumed you meant something else because I’ve never heard of the Love Loop. But now I know what it is and I think that anyone who goes on that show is too stupid or too cheap to get real help. And Lorna probably gets off on the salacious details because she doesn’t have a normal relationship and never has.

A quick glance at her face told him that wasn’t the right thing to say so he unbuckled and leaned over the console to kiss her. When she backed away for a breath, he grabbed her again and kissed her until she giggled against his lips.

See? he whispered breathlessly. We don’t have any issues to discuss with Lorna.

He exited the car and Pary jumped out and chased after him. Then she grabbed his arm so he couldn’t avoid her conversation as they crossed the street to their apartment building.

Are you sure there’s nothing you need to confess, John?

His step faltered briefly and he patted her hand, wondering if she knew. 

Don’t be ridiculous, he replied firmly, opening the door to their building with his free hand and waiting for her to enter.

She stopped on the sidewalk and tightened her fingers on his arm.

He closed his eyes and blurted, Okay, so I tossed some of your cookbooks.

Pary shrieked and let go of his arm. You did what? John, I need those recipes! How am I going to fix meals without them?

He pulled her through the entry door and pushed her toward the waiting elevator. You’ll do what you always do. Serve something from a box or the freezer and burn it either way. You don’t need a cookbook for that.

On the elevator, Pary folded her arms with a frown, but when it stopped on their floor, she tried running down the hall to their door. John cracked his eyes and held her back. She wasn’t nearly as upset about the cookbooks as he anticipated which could only mean one thing.

Spit it out, he said.

She pulled her arm from his grasp and studied the floor of the elevator. This carpet is ugly.

What aren’t you telling me?

And why are elevator walls always fake wood paneling?

Get used to it, he suggested, capturing her wrist and refusing to let her go.

She blew up the front of her hair and mumbled something under her breath, before jerking her arm free and racing to their apartment with her key out. By the time John got into the apartment, she’d barricaded herself in the bathroom. He rattled the door handle, and she squawked in distress.

Don’t come in! I have, uh, I have a stomach issue and won’t be out until bedtime, she called, hoping he’d believe her. The mirror reflected her worried gray eyes and the fingernail she chewed.

It’s too bad you won’t be able to eat the donuts I got earlier, he said. I hid them in the kit... Oof!

Pary stomped on his foot in her rush to get to the kitchen to find the donuts.

My sniffer let me down. I can’t believe I didn’t smell them, she said over her shoulder as she climbed onto a counter to look in the cupboard above the fridge.

He leaned against the wall while she tore the kitchen apart in her haste to find the goodies. She even checked the trash and the oven without success and when she backed out of the fridge, she tossed a bunch of wilted celery at him.

Look what I found for supper, she snapped, mad because she realized there were no donuts hidden in the kitchen and it was just a ploy to lure her out of the bathroom. Turn on the broiler, John, and I’ll set the table.

He set the celery aside and hauled her to her feet. If you tell me what you said in the elevator, I’ll take you out for a donut.

She gave him a toothy smile. I said the carpet was ugly. Now, can we get a few extras so I can have a midnight...

Her voice trailed off when he crossed his arms and shook his head. She took a deep breath and tried again.

The walls are always... After a quick peek at his face, she tossed her hands in the air. Fine! My car is broken, and I got a ticket.

Again?

What do you mean ‘again’? she huffed.

John sighed. You know exactly what I mean. Let’s start with the car. What happened?

The oil fell out. Pary spread her arms to indicate a large area and added, But it wasn’t my fault.

Oil doesn’t just fall out on its own, Pary. In fact, it doesn't just fall out period. It leaks or drips out.

She snorted. Not if you drive over one of those concrete things that they use in parking lots to keep you from running into the building. You know the ones that have bolts sticking out? I don’t know why they don’t pound the bolts down like they should.

Where’s your car now? he asked.

Well, I tried driving it to Hymie’s but the front tire screamed and it stopped moving. So I left it where it died.

"I hope you shot