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

their mealswhen Allen spotted Mya at the hostess station. She had her back to him, facingWendy. Wendy pointed at Allen, and Mya looked back over her shoulder. Allensmiled and waved. Mya waved back, but there was no smile. That seemed odd toAllen, because Mya was always smiling. Something was wrong. Allen could senseit.

Donnie was talking, but Allen couldn't concentrate on whathe was saying. He wondered if everything was okay with Mya's great-grandmother.What else could it be? Then it dawned on him, Allen had spoken with Jim Tuckerearlier in the day; it was obvious Tucker didn't want him around. Had he spokenwith Mya? Was that the problem? But what could Tucker have said that wouldn'tpaint himself as the jealous jerk that he was?

Allen watched as Wendy leaned in and gave Mya a hug. Thenshe put her hand on Mya's shoulder. Mya nodded her head. Something was wrong,but what? He picked up his glass and downed what little bit of Painkiller wasleft in the glass.

“What do you think?” Donnie asked.

“About what?” Allen asked.

“Were you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, I wasn't, Donnie.” Allen continued to look pastDonnie's shoulder.

Donnie turned around. “Is that Mya?”

“Yes.”

“No wonder you weren't listening to me. She's gorgeous.”

“Yes, she is.”

Donnie looked back at Allen. “Is something wrong?”

“I'm not sure. Probably not. Eat a couple of these wings.”Allen picked up his lobster roll and took a bite.

Donnie eyed the three wings that were still on the plate. Hesighed. “I better not. This sandwich is gonna stuff me.”

Allen glanced back over at the podium; Mya was gone.

“How is everything?” Cal asked.

“Very good,” Donnie answered.

“Good,” said Allen. “Can I get another one of thesePainkillers?”

“Of course.”

“Me too,” said Donnie.

Allen took another bite of his roll. His eyes kept goingfrom his plate to the hostess station. Finally Mya walked back into view. Shestopped at the podium and wrote something on the seating chart. She looked overat Allen. He looked down at his plate, not wanting Mya to see that he waswatching her. He decided not to look over again. He would just wait until heand Donnie were done eating, and then talk to her when they left.

Cal dropped off their drinks. Allen and Donnie nodded theirthanks as he hustled to the next table.

“So, are you still planning on never returning toCalifornia?” Allen asked, just trying to get his mind off of Mya.

Donnie grinned. “No, I'm sure I'll head back in a few days.I can't hide out here forever.”

“Have you spoken with anyone to let them know you're here?”

“I called my mom and sister yesterday morning. I didn't wantthem to worry. I told them not to tell Evan they'd heard from me.”

“Have they heard from him?”

Donnie nodded. “My mom said Evan calls twice a day to see ifthey've heard from me.”

“Maybe he's having second thoughts about his secondthoughts.”

“Too bad for him if he is. He had his shot.”

“Hey, Allen,” said Mya.

Allen looked up. Mya was standing at their table. “Oh, hey,”he said. “I didn't see you walking over. How are you?”

“Good.”

Donnie flashed his flawless white teeth. “You must be Mya,”he said. “I've heard so much about you.” He held out his hand.

“This is my friend Donnie,” Allen said. “He's staying in theroom below me.”

“It's nice to meet you, Donnie,” Mya said, taking his hand.

“You are just as beautiful as Allen described.”

Mya smiled at Allen. “Well, aren't you sweet. Thank you.”

She looked back across the alley. Four people stood near thehostess station.

“I better get back to work,” Mya said. “I just wanted tostop over and say hi.”

Allen stood. “I'll walk you over.”

“Okay.”

“Be right back, Donnie.”

“I'll be here.”

Allen and Mya crossed the deck and went down the stairs.

“Is everything okay?” Allen asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“You just seem different.”

“Do I?”

Allen stopped halfway across the alley, and turned towardMya. “Yes, you do. I realize I haven't known you for very long, but I think I'ma pretty good judge of character. Something's bothering you.”

“No, really, I'm fine.”

“Jim Tucker stopped by my motel room today to speak withme.”

Mya said nothing.

“Did he speak with you today?” Allen asked.

“I can't talk about this right now, Allen.” She glanced overat the guests waiting for her at the hostess station. “I need to get back towork.”

“Okay. Do you want to swing by the motel after work?”

“I can't. I'll be tired. I have to go, Allen.”

“Okay.”

Mya spun around and hurried back to her station. She lookedback once at Allen as she walked. “Sorry for making you wait,” Allen heard hersay. He turned and went back to his seat.

“She is lovely,” Donnie said.

“Yes, she is,” Allen replied, as he sat back down.

“Is everything okay?”

“She says it is.”

“But you don't think she's telling the truth.”

“No, I don't.”

Chapter Eighteen

By the time Allen and Donnie had finished their meals thesun had gone down, and the streetlights had come on. Allen stopped at thehostess station before he left. He told Mya goodbye, and asked her if they werestill on for Sunday evening. She said they were. He mentioned dinner at Rose'shouse the next night. Mya didn't come back with a wise crack about Rose'scougar wife, or their rumored swinging lifestyle. Allen didn't want to ask heragain if something was wrong. The ball was in her court now. He said goodbye,leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, and left.

“That was a very good fish sandwich,” Donnie said, as thetwo men jogged across the street between cars.

They hopped up on the sidewalk and strolled along theseawall.

“My lobster roll was good, but I think I liked the fourPainkillers better.”

“Did they work?”

“I ain't feelin' no pain.”

The tide was on its way out now, and the waves were stillcrashing against the rocks. There was a slight breeze that carried the mistacross the beach, dampening the sidewalk and street. Allen and Donnie musedabout how wet they'd be by the time they arrived back at the motel.

“Queers!” someone shouted from a passing Dodge pickup.

“Friends of yours?” Allen asked.

“Morons,” said Donnie. “Don't they realize that yellingqueer at me isn't an insult? It would be like me driving past you andhollering, 'Straight!' Idiots.”

Allen watched the