Read Online Alice Fantastic by Maggie Estep - Free Book Online

perceptive on me, Arthur, I rely on you for complete cynicism and brutishness.”
    â€œThat’s cute,” said Arthur, sounding slightly wounded.
    I wondered if I had actually offended him. The tough guys are the ones who melt when you least expect it.
    â€œSo you don’t have any insights?” I asked Arthur.
    â€œMaybe the three horse.”
    â€œA five-year-old making her second start? That’s an unorthodox angle.”
    â€œIf you’re going to shoot down any ideas I have then I’m hanging up.”
    â€œNo, sorry, talk to me.”
    So he did. We went back and forth on a few less-than- stellar maidens. We decided to meet up at the Equestris Restaurant atop Aqueduct’s clubhouse the next day at noon. To make things more interesting, we decided to pool our resources and play the Pick 6 together.
    â€œGo do whatever it is you do with that flannelled bruiser of yours,” said Arthur before hanging up.
    â€œYou talking to that Arthur idiot?” I spun around and found Clayton standing there, fully awake.
    â€œYes.” I hated that Clayton hated Arthur.
    â€œYou gonna leave me for him?”
    â€œFor Arthur?” I asked, aghast.
    â€œI’m sure women find him attractive.”
    â€œI’d probably break him,” I said. Arthur is at least three inches shorter than I am and probably weighs less than I do. I don’t like men who make me feel large. “Anyway, Arthur considers women over the age of twenty past their prime.”
    â€œSo if he wasn’t a short pedophile you’d fuck him?”
    This was only the second time I’d heard Clayton say fuck.
    â€œDon’t joke about pedophilia. It’s not funny. Arthur doesn’t dip below legal.”
    Clayton grunted.
    â€œWhere’s all this coming from?” I asked, moving to stand closer to him. I tried to be tender. I touched his face. Pushed a strand of hair off his wide forehead that shone greasy as an adolescent’s.
    We were gazing at each other and both jumped when someone knocked loudly on the door.
    â€œWho the hell is that?” Clayton asked, as if I’d have any idea.
    â€œPolice,” was the answer.
    Clayton stared at me, like I’d called them.
    â€œShit,” he said.
    â€œShhh,” I cautioned since we were standing right near the door.
    â€œCan I help you?” I asked, opening the door, acting slightly irritated but curious the way I imagined garden- variety law-abiding citizens might act.
    â€œClayton Marbler?” A plainclothes, mustachioed cop flashed his badge and looked past me toward Clayton. Be- hind him stood a tall brunette with a thin mouth.
    â€œThat’s me,” Clayton said.
    I glanced over at his face. It was showing too much. He looked worried.
    â€œWhat’s this about?” I asked, playing the innocent girl- friend.
    â€œJust a couple of questions. Could we come in?” asked the lanky brunette.
    â€œSure,” I ushered them in.
    The brunette sat at one end of the couch, the mustachioed partner at the other. Though the man was black and the woman white, there was a sameness about their small dark eyes and their tight, business-like mouths.
    The male cop asked Clayton about Vito.
    â€œDon’t know him,” Clayton shook his head.
    â€œI do,” I said, figuring they knew I knew him or, if they didn’t, would soon find out. “He’s an acquaintance from the racetrack.”
    â€œRight,” said the brunette. “And Mr. Marbler, you’ve never met him?”
    â€œYou have met him, Clayton, remember? He came over to our table that day I brought you to the track?”
    Clayton gave me the most wounded look I’d ever seen a human being give. But I was trying to save his ass. They knew I knew Vito. It would come out that Clayton had met him.
    â€œOh,” Clayton said.
    â€œThe man is dead. You may have heard?” The male cop’s eyes were tiny little slits