The Prospect - Eliot Parker (top 10 novels .txt) 📗

/> Based on the Phil’s look of dubiety , something serious was happening.
A crackling, squaking voice beamed from the automobile. The individual demanded Shane to not move. Shane shifted his body, facing the direction of the oncoming message and was greeted with a gold and blue West Virginia State Police car stopping right in front of the podium.
With nowhere to run or hide, Shane’s body was unalterable.
“Shane Triplet. Please put your hands up.”

XXXIII
Shane felt a rush of adrenaline zip throughout every inch of his body. Simultaneously, that irritating vibration near his stomach and ribs rekindled, firing a blast of pain that was thick, heavy, and altered Shane’s unflappable position.
The pitcher grimaced slightly, then looked Olivia and Phil. Each was silent, perplexed, and stoic. Shane noticed two state police officers exiting the vehicle, with their guns drawn and Morton Reynolds cautiously emerged from the left door of the police cruiser.
Mayor Reynolds smirked at Shane as the developments unfolded. Shane responded by slowly raising his hands into an upright position.
By now, the event caught the attention of Jack Busby, who stopped flipping hamburgers and pouring drinks. He looked outward, and the people standing in line followed his lead. People began whispering and pointing, but not reacting negatively to what was taking place.
The state troopers darted towards Shane. Both men were dressed in the moss green uniforms, although it was tough to discern facial characteristics because each officer had a green hat covering their foreheads and sunglasses disguising their eyes. However, Shane noticed that one officer was much older than the other one, based on movements and physical appearance. The younger officer was more physically toned and moved quicker than the older trooper.
The older trooper reached for a pair of glistening sliver handcuffs while the younger trooper began reading Shane his Miranda rights. Powerless to do anything about the situation, Olivia grabbed onto to Shane’s arm, squeezing it tightly with one hand while affectionately patting his arm with the other hand.
Morton walked around the troopers and stood alongside them, addressing the entourage and the young pitcher, his shirt tarnished with crimson blood and the bridge of his nose shattered and bruised due to Shane’s right fist.
“I told you that I would have you arrested for assault. It is time you learned to be responsible for your actions, unlike what you did with my daughter.
“A…assault. Please, sir, d…d…do not do this,” Ryan pleaded as the mayor directed his attention at Shane.
“This punk has caused my family too much trouble since he came here. Officers, I want to press charges. I want this kid punished to the fullest extent of the law.”
Watching everything, Phil Rodney knew he had been quiet long enough.
“Morton Reynolds, I have seen some low things in my time, but I cannot believe that you are doing this. Especially today! This is supposed to be a great day for our community, and you are ruining it.”
“Do not lecture me, Phillip,” recanted the mayor. “I am a big boy and I can make my own decisions. Besides, I know what is best for Sheaville and removing this younger Triplet generation from this town will be better for all of us.”
Pushing in between the mayor and the state troopers was Walter Mann and Biggie Rowan.
“Mayor, I demand that you drop them here statements use been making, here?” the manager demanded.
The constant chatter was causing a hush to fall over the remaining audience who gathered for the auction.
“Under whose authority?”
Biggie leaned around the mayor’s portly body and peeked at his face. The catcher looked like a large, dark Goliath ready to pounce on the smaller and older man.
“Since you haven’t heard, pretty boy here and I were reinstated yesterday by the ABA. We plan on beating Delmarva this week and going on to play the Alley Cats for the championship. Therefore, you ain’t sending one of our starting pitchers to jail for popping you a good one, which is probably something you deserved in the first place.”
Shane attempted to speak on his own behalf, but as he opened his mouth, no words flowed from his lips. Instead, he tore open the envelopeWalter handed him at the microphone. All Shane could focus on was the words Shane Triplet and reinstated. The letter was printed on stationary from Appalachian Baseball Association Commissioner Tim Morrison’s office.
“Why doesn’t someone first tell me why daddy’s face looks like it has been put through a meat grinder and why Shane is being charged with assault and what this has to do with the baseball team and this fundraiser.” Olivia was puzzled, and the angst in her voice reflected that feeling.
“W…w….we were at the sawm…mill cleaning up,” Ryan began, almost as if he was sharing a fairy tale.
“That’s right,” affirmed the mayor. “And friend here and I got into a fight over something that was really none of his business in the first place. So, Mr. Temper here decided to resolve the matter by popping me in the face.”
“It had everything to do with me!” barked Shane. Phil Rodney attempted to get Shane to calm down stepped behind Shane, laying a hand on his back, but he felt the muscles in Shane’s shoulders tighten.
Shane flailed his index finger at the state troopers. “If anything, you should arrest Morton Reynolds. He is a murderer…he killed my father.”
A gasp overcame the crowd. Some of Sheaville’s older residents began shaking their heads disdainfully. Others were blankly looking to each other for answers.
“Yea, that’s right!” Shane shouted. “Morton Reynolds is a murderer. He has blood on his hands!” My father died because of him!” He dropped his voice and stood inches away from the Morton’s fractured nose. “You are a joke!”
“I tried to save your father,” the mayor hollered defensively. “The building was on fire…I was by myself. I did the best I could. Your father, he wasn’t a man. He was a lush and a womanizer. He drove your mother to madness. Every wonder why she is the way she is? It’s because of your father. His drunken stupors, the endless affairs…it was all too much for her. You are just like him; reckless and a philanderer. You just had to have my daughter too. Well you have her. And now, a baby is on the way because of it!”
“I love Shane,” champed Olivia. Shane blinked hard, not expecting her to say anything.
“You know nothing about my mother. Don’t you EVER speak her name.” Shane warned.
“Holy Shit! You got the mayor’s daughter pregnant? Way to go pretty boy!” chided Biggie Rowan as he crept into the group.
“Fuck you Rowan,” Shane retorted.
Walter finally spoke. “This has been a big misunderstanding here’s all. You don’t need him in jail. Period. So you can call of this here deal and we can all go home and do that,” Walter reminded everyone, unsure of how the statement would be handled by the group.
“I am afraid we cannot do that sir,” remarked the younger state trooper.
“Daddy?” asked Olivia, sweetly and innocently as she stood next to Shane. “Is this all correct? Is Shane’s dad gone because of something you could have helped? Tell me daddy. I want you to be honest with me. This is not the time to say nothing just to try and protect me. I can handle this. You and I have been through so much together already with Mom passing away. Just talk to me. It is me…Olivia. Just please be honest and tell me.”
Olivia could see large wet tears swell up in the mayor’s eyes, even though he remained defiant. “There was nothing I could do.”
Olivia reared back and spit in her father’s face, spewing a generous amount of saliva that began dripping down his cheeks and chin.
“I do not want to hear one more word come out of your lying mouth daddy. I cannot believe you. When were you going to tell me about this? And the way you have treated Shane? God, I cannot believe this.”
“Ok folks,” said the older West Virginia state police trooper with a slight lisp. “We need to take care of business here. Mr. Triplet, I am going to need you to place both arms behind your back. Everyone else needs to step back.”
Phil Rodney broke away from the group and shouted towards the crowd. “Show’s over people. Thanks for coming to the auction but it’s time to go home.”
As Shane turned around, his wrists clamped together preparing for the handcuffs to be slapped on them, a loud noise reverberated throughout downtown Sheaville.
The wooden stage collapsed. Jack Busby decided to begin taking it down amidst all the commotion, but the wobbly structure collapsed.
The sudden noise startled everyone, including the state troopers. Shane looked up as well, but instead of watching he began running.
“Hey! Come back here!” shouted the younger officer. You are under arrest!”
Morton nudged Walter Mann and the older trooper. “Don’t just stand there. That brat is a fugitive.”
Shane began running through the dispersing crowd, dodging his away around and between crowds of people. Nobody seemed to hear the troopers shouting for Shane to stop. Shane ran hard and fast, up Central Avenue and then onto Maple Street. He had to make it home; to the small, decrepit hollow that was home. It was his only chance to escape.
Downtown, the officers scrambled to the police cruiser. Morton Reynolds ran and flopped into his pewter Honda Accord and followed the police, as the piercing sounds of cruiser sirens bounced off the mountains and echoed throughout Sheaville.
Shane turned and continued trekking home. The late-afternoon sky began to grow dark. Once me got closer home, Shane saw that the acres of grassy field next to the house had shriveled under the unrelenting summer heat. Shane kept running, past the house and all the way to a rolling hillside accented by and old, leaning oak tree.
He flopped under the tree, panting and nauseas. He dug into his pocket and lit a cigarette. The pain under his ribs had temporarily subsided, but was flaring up once again.
The sudden patter of footsteps led Shane to dive over the small hill and reach for a handful of small stones. As the steps became louder, he began heaving stones over the hill. As a pitcher, throwing stones was like throwing a baseball, except the object was smaller and could travel faster.
The footsteps stopped. Shane peered over the hill. It was Olivia.

XXXIV

“Olivia! Olivia are you okay?”
The smell of freshly burning cigarette tar trickled over the hillside as the pitcher tried to coax a response from her.
Shane scrambled from under the hill and swept up Olivia, cradling her legs using his powerful upper-body strength while maneuvering her over the hillside and under a flat patch of decayed grass under a long tree branch.
Placing her back against the tree trunk, Shane grabbed Olivia’s hand and began patting it forcefully. “Olivia, Olivia! Are you okay?” he asked. Her eyes were closed and she seemed so peaceful, almost angelic.
Olivia gradually opened her eyes and grinned. She leaped from under the tree and fell onto Shane, launching him onto his back as she engaged him in a long, passionate kiss.
Olivia wiggled her fingers under Shane’s drenched shirt and pulled it over his head. In return, Shane pulled Olivia’s shirt off and jerked her shorts and panties off.
As Olivia began kissing and nibbling Shane’s chest and nipples, he wiggled out of his shorts and boxers and lowered Olivia near his crotch Olivia collapsed onto Shane, while his hands moved around her back.
Olivia moaned passionately and she continued to kiss Shane and caress his moist, tan face.