Thankless in Death by J.D. Robb Read Online (FREE)
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HE WAS SICK TO DEATH OF HER NAGGING.
Bitch and complain, bitch and complain, and nag, nag, nag every time she opened her damn mouth. He’d like to shut it for her.
Jerald Reinhold sat at the kitchen table, while his mother’s never-ending list of criticisms and demands rolled over him in dark, swollen clouds.
Every fucking day, he thought, the same thing. Like it was his fault he’d lost his stupid, dead-end job. His fault his girlfriend—another bitch who never shut up—kicked him out so he had to move back in with his whining, mouthy parents. His fault he’d dropped a few thousand in Vegas and had some credit card debt.
Jesus! His fault, his fault, his fault. The old bitch never cut him the smallest break.
Hadn’t he told her that he wouldn’t have lost his job if his prick of a supervisor hadn’t fired him? So he’d taken a few days off, who didn’t? So he’d been late a few times, who wasn’t?
Unless you were a work-droid like his idiot father.
But God, she made it such a big fucking deal. He’d hated the job anyway, and only took it because Lori badgered him into it, but he got all the blame.
He was twenty-six, for Christ’s sake, and deserved a hell of a lot better than working for chump change as a take-out delivery boy.
And Lori gives him the boot just because he’s out of work—temporarily—and goes batshit on him because he lost a few bucks on a trip with some friends?
He could, and would, do a lot better than Lori wide-ass Nuccio. Bitch threatened to call the cops just because he gave her a few smacks. She deserved a lot more than a couple love taps, and he wished like hell he’d given her just what she deserved.
He deserved more than a room in his parents’ apartment and his mother’s incessant hammering.
“Jerry, are you listening to me?” Barbara Reinhold fisted her hands on her hips.
Jerry lifted his gaze from the screen of his PPC where he was trying to relax with a game. He spared his skinny, flat-chested, know-it-all mother one smoldering glance.
“How can I help it when you never shut up?”
“That’s how you talk to me? That’s how you show your gratitude for the roof over your head, the food we put in your belly?” She lifted a plate that held a slice of bread, a thin slice of fake turkey. “I’m standing here making you a sandwich since you finally dragged yourself out of bed at noon, and you sass me? It’s no wonder Lori kicked you out. I’m telling you one thing, mister, you’re not getting a free ride here much longer. It’s been almost a month now, and you haven’t done diddly about finding a job.”