Suburban Dicks (Suburban Dicks, #1)

by Fabian Nicieza

Kenny had no one to feign indifference to, so he slumped in dejection.

“Oh,” he said, seemingly done with the conversation. She wasn’t, so she continued,

Sarah was crying for attention but wasn’t getting any.

A third Indian woman said, “My neighbor was robbed. Twenty thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry. You know what the police officer said? A young blond-haired white boy. He said he didn’t think it was a good idea to keep that much jewelry in the house. It made us a target for thieves.” “Blame the victim,” said Molly. “Yes!” said the woman who had too much jewelry in her house.

Andrea knew why Satkunananthan Sasmal had been killed. Now all she needed to do was find a single shred of evidence to support her theory.

“Yeah, I wish science could come up with some way to prevent pregnancies, but we’re just not there yet,” she said.

I don’t know how I’m doing it now,” she said. “You just . . . do it, I guess.

“What?” he exclaimed, louder than was appropriate but not nearly as loudly as he’d intended.

She maintained absolute disciplinary control of her husband and her kids. Andrea both admired and was repulsed by her.

I’m reconsidering the preconceived notions I had about Asian extended families and having your mother-in-law living with you,”

Neither had ever been to Vermont and both were taken aback by the incongruity of its beauty and decrepitude.

“You’re out of bullets.” Flummoxed, Appelhans looked at his gun, then ejected the cartridge to see if it was spent. Kenny took that opportunity to turn tail and run like a bandit.

He felt very masculine regarding the violent turn of events, even though it had really hurt a lot.

Now she was getting it from a kid still in Pull-Ups.

The past few months had been the first time in ten years she had felt like who she wanted to be. All it had taken was accepting that she hated her husband’s guts and didn’t want to be responsible for the lives of her four children.