Read Online Bookmaker, The by Chris Fraser - Free Book Online

that walking, would you rub them for me?”
    Before I could answer, she swung them up onto my lap. She was wearing high-heeled sandals with the three-inch cork soles. I don’t know what they’re called, but they sure are sexy, and they made her legs look great in her sundress. I unbuckled and slid them off. Even her feet were beautiful—well tanned, not too big, impeccably pedicured with blood-red nail polish, soft and pink. I was more than happy to rub away.
    “So you don’t remember me?” s he asked with a smile that showed off her perfect white teeth.
    “Remember you? I thought we just met yesterday?”
    “Well that is just the rudest thing in the world, Trent Oster,” she said with a sexy pout.
    “We practically grew up together. We went to the same elementary and high school.”
    I tried to think of an excuse. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t remember much from my youth.” I tried to massage her as best as I could to make up for the indignity of forgetting her. And to let me know I was hitting the right spots, she cooed and arched her head back.
    With her eyes closed and a smile forming , she said, “I was three grades behind you and look nothing like my younger self…I’ve blossomed.”
    “I see that.”
    “I was there when you and my brother got into a fight over Tracy Bennett.”
    Then it hit me, Corynne was Marcus’s little sister. Of course, how had I not put that together before? They both had the same grandfather for Christ’s sake.
    “Oh shit, I remember now, you were the little tomboy always following Marcus around. Damn, you have changed.”
    “Don’t you forget it. ”
    Our reminiscence was interrupted when three guys approached our bench.
    “Hey, Corynne, who’s the faggot?” said the biggest guy, a giant corn-fed, offensive lineman. The other two guys, clad in almost matching overalls and pretty big themselves, got a kick out of this and began laughing.
    Swinging her feet off my lap, Corynne snapped, “Screw you Duane!”
    “Screw me? Screw you! Trigger ain’t been gone for a year and you’re already making time with this clown?”
    “I ain’t making time with anyone. Trent’s an old friend of my brother's and a g uest staying with us for while—if it’s any business of yours, which it isn’t!”
    “So where the fuck’ s Trigger? I’ve known him my whole life and it ain’t like him just to take off.”
    “How the fuck should I know? He’s your best friend.”
    “Look, Trigger’s a stand-up guy. He just wouldn’t do that, it ain’t in him!”
    “Well he did, and he’s gone, probably with your slutty little sister he used to screw!”
    “Now look here , bitch!” Duane said, moving toward her.
    I had to jump in. I moved between them and before I could say anything, Duane cold-cocked me right in the eye. I went down fast and hard. Corynne went wild, swinging at Duane but was wrapped up by his two cronies. We must have started a commotion as people started heading our way, so Duane and his boys took off. Corynne knelt down to see if I was all right. I was probably more humiliated than hurt, and she apologized profusely. I told her not to sweat it—it happens—and managed a slight smile for her as we walked back to the car. We got in, I lit up a smoke, and we drove off past the crowd of onlookers.
    Corynne kept apologizing all the way back to the house , and I kept trying to say it was no big deal, trying to play the tough guy—like getting sucker-punched was a regular occurrence for me. When we got back to the house, we both decided we needed a nap; she said she’d come check on me later.
     
     
     
    The knock on the door came three hours later, and it wasn’t Corynne, but Preston. “Heard you got into a bit of a scrape in town,” he said.
    “Nothing I’m not used to,” I said, now playing the tough guy routine with Preston.
    “Corynne told me all about the confrontation with Duane and his boys, and I appreciate you standing up for my little girl.