The Maine Events by Rodney Riesel (spanish books to read .TXT) 📗

to the door andpulled it open. “Ya think you can go by yourself?”

Frankie walked outside, turned around, and waited.

Allen looked down at his boxers. “Hold on,” he groaned. “Letme put on some pants.”

Walking around to the side of the bed, Allen bent over andpicked up the dress shirt he'd wore the night before and put it on, along withsome jeans. Barefoot, he stepped outside.

“Come on, dog.”

Allen opened the door at the end of the walkway and Frankiebounded down the stairs. He waited patiently at the office door. Allen pushedopen the door, and Frankie sprinted for the grass.

“There ya go,” Allen grumbled. “Write if ya find work.” Hestepped out onto the sidewalk.

Donnie was sitting in the same spot he was the night before.He wore flannel pajamas, and a matching red robe. His glass of wine had beenreplaced with a cup of coffee.

“Morning, Donnie,” said Allen. He yawned and stretched hisarms over his head. “You haven't been there all night, have you?”

“Morning, Blue Eyes,” Donnie replied. “And, no, I justwalked out here.”

“How's the lip?”

Donnie reached up and gently tapped his lip with hisfingertip. “The swelling went down. Only hurts when I laugh.”

“Reminds me of a joke. Kid runs up to his dad and says,'Dad, Mom just got hit by a bus.' The dad winces in pain and says, 'Son, youknow I have a cold sore.'”

Donnie chuckled. “Ouch! That's horrible. Don't do that.”

“Sorry,” Allen said. “I couldn't resist.”

Donnie checked his scab for blood. There was none.

Coffee?” Donnie asked.

“No thanks. I gotta get writing.”

The door to room four opened, and Jacob stuck his head out.“Hey, Allen,” he said.

“Mornin', Jacob,” Allen said.

“Can I get my money?”

“Sure.”

“What money?” Donnie asked.

Jacob stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

“For watching my dog,” said Allen. “What do I owe you?”

Frankie finished his business and ran to Jacob's side.

“Let's see,” Jacob said, doing the math in his head,“watching Frankie the last two times. Twenty each. That's forty bucks.”

“Forty bucks!” said Donnie. “Looks like I'm in the wrongline of work.”

“Jacob, this is Donnie Peppitone. Donnie, Jacob Palmer.”

“It's nice to meet you, young man,” said Donnie.

Jacob nodded. “You too,” he said. “What happened to yourface?”

“I was involved in a scuffle.”

“Was it a hate crime?”

Donnie cocked his head. His eyes went from Jacob to Allen,and back. “A hate crime? What makes you say that?”

“Well, 'cause you're gay.”

Donnie locked eyes with the boy and adopted on a serioustone. “What makes you think I'm gay?”

“Well, I … I just meant—”

“Do I speak gay?” Donnie demanded. “Do I actgay?”

“I just—”

“Do I walk gay?”

“I—”

Donnie chuckled, doing his best not to crack his lip. “I'mjust busting your balls, kid.”

Allen burst out laughing.

“Yes, I'm gay,” said Donnie, “And yes, they hit me because Iwas gay … so, yeah, I guess we can call it a hate crime.”

Jacob exhaled. “Did you call the police?”

“For what?”

“To turn them in.”

“No, kid, I fight my own battles.”

Allen counted out two twenty dollar bills and a ten, andhanded them to Jacob. “There's an extra ten in there. Can you pick up thismorning's turds?”

“Frankie's?” Jacob asked, taking the money.

“No, mine,” Allen shot back. “Of course, Frankie's.”

“Do you have another dog I can take care of?” Donnie asked.“I'd like to make a few bucks.”

“Sorry,” said Allen. “Just the one dog.” He stepped back andopened the office door. “Come on, Frankie, let's get back upstairs. Have fun atyour sleepover, Jacob.”

“I will,” Jacob said.

“It was nice meeting you, Jacob,” Donnie said.

“You too, Donnie,” said Jacob, as he ran, cash in hand, backto his room.

“Seems like a nice boy,” Donnie said.

“He's a good kid,” Allen agreed. “Talk to you later,Donnie.”

“Yes, you will, Blue Eyes. You'll have to come back down fora drink later. I want to hear all about your date last night.”

“You got it,” Allen said, and up the stairs he and Frankieran.

Frankie was already lying on the bed when he reached thedoor, which Allen had left open.

“How about if I make breakfast this morning?” Allen said.“We've still got eggs and sausage in the fridge.”

He flipped on the television on his way to the cupboards. Heopened the base cabinet. “Hallelujah, we've got frying pans.” Allen placed themedium-sized pan on the front burner, and the smaller one on the rear burner.He dropped four sausage patties into the smaller pan and turned the knob tothree. He grabbed a bowl, scrambled six eggs, and poured them into the mediumpan. He set the front burner at three as well. He opened his loaf of bread anddropped two slices in the toaster. Lastly, Allen made a pot of coffee.

After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Allen walked back tothe open door and gazed across the street at the ebb tide. Other than onefaraway gray cloud on the horizon, the sky was clear. A thirty-foot Pearsonsailed along halfway between the shore and Boon Island. Allen sipped his coffeeand watched as the sailboat dipped out of sight, and then rose back up intoview.

“The sea's a little rough for such a nice day,” Allenobserved, talking mostly to himself.

He returned the two-burner range to flip his sausage andstir his eggs.

“A few more minutes, Frankie.”

Allen grabbed the remote control off the nightstand andturned the channel to the Weather Channel. A small craft advisory scrolledacross the bottom of the screen. He glanced out the window at the Pearson. Thecraft was just about to disappear behind the Nubble Lighthouse. He made his wayback to the stove, pushed his eggs around the pan with a rubber spatula, andlowered his toast into the toaster.

“Two minutes, Frankie.”

“Good morning, Crane,” came a voice from the doorway.

Allen spun around. “Bobby Jordan,” he said. “To what do I owethis pleasure?”

“May I come in?”

“Didn't your mama ever tell you it's rude to answer aquestion with a question?”

“You know, Crane, I've killed guys for less than that.”Jordan took a dramatic pause, then belly-laughed and stepped through the door.“Just shittin' ya. What are ya makin' there?” he asked, pulling out one of thechairs and sitting down.

“A little breakfast.”

“Sausage?”

“And scrambled eggs.”

“Smells good.”

“Are ya hungry?”

“Look at me, Crane. I'm always hungry.”

“Have you been watching your blood pressure?”

“You sound like