Read Online Bad Games by Jeff Menapace - Free Book Online Page B

again. And I don’t want them to be in the same cabin that he was—”
    Patrick held up a hand. “Fine.”
    “What will happen tomorrow?” Norman asked.
    Amy gave an uncertain shrug. “I guess we’ll figure that out tomorrow. But don’t be surprised if you find us leaving first thing in the morning. As for right now I’m just thinking about…” She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m thinking.” She looked at Patrick. “Maybe we should wake them.” She looked back at Norm and sighed again. “I don’t know…I’m not making any sense, am I?”
    “No, you are,” Norman said. “I’d be confused and uncertain too. It’s completely understandable.”
    “You’re sure you don’t mind keeping the kids for tonight?” she asked again.
    “Absolutely not. You know we love having them. You two go on in and try and get some sleep.”
    Amy snorted. “Right.”
    “We’ll bring the kids over first thing in the morning when they wake,” Norman said.
    “Thanks, Norm,” Patrick said.
    Norman stepped forward and gave them each a hearty hug. “We’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” He flashed a reassuring smile, turned and headed back towards his cabin.
    Patrick took Amy’s hand and gave her a gentle pull. “Come on, baby, let’s go inside.”
    They were a few feet from the back entrance when Oscar appeared, wagging his tail and whining for affection.
    “And where the hell were you during all this?” Amy said.
     
    * * *
     
    Jim had watched every second of the aftermath unfold. He was only fifty yards away during the sheriff’s entire stay—nestled safely behind an enormous oak at the rear of the Lambert’s cabin.
    His feet did ache, but the two thick pairs of wool socks he wore dulled the sharp edges that jabbed into his soles when he fled from the window.
    Watching the couple fuck had proved arousing. But that show was a mere bonus. Anticipation had been the true culprit for the thumping in his heart and the tickling in his groin—waiting for that sweet, sweet moment when Amy (he knew her name now; he heard it spoken from behind the oak) would spot none other than his face leering back at her from the bedroom window.
    The game was officially gaining momentum.

11
    Arty was nursing a beer when Jim entered the bar. It was nearly 2:00 a.m., and in this particular dive that meant the remaining patrons were still around for two reasons: sex or a fight. Or both. Arty was the exception. He was waiting for his brother to arrive so he could find out how his solo venture at Crescent Lake had gone.
    “It’s about time,” Arty said as his brother took a stool next to him. “Any problems?”
    “Nah—I wore the socks like you said. No serious prints or anything. My feet hurt though.”
    “Can’t make an omelet.”
    “Yeah.”
    Patrick slid a bottle of beer over to his brother. “It might be a little warm. I didn’t think you’d be this late.”
    Jim took the beer and sipped it. “It’s fine.” He took another swig. “I planned on getting here sooner, but I was enjoying myself a bit too much I suppose.”
    Arty laughed and sipped from his own beer. “Tomorrow’s going to be a good day.”
    Jim looked off into one of his thoughts for a moment, a smile on his face that managed both malice and delight. When he returned he quivered and shook his head hard as if trying to wake himself up. “I think I need a shot. You want one?”
    “No, let’s get out of here. There’s some big inbred fuckers at the end of the bar who were giving me shit earlier.”
    Jim looked past his brother, down the length of the bar. Three big men stared back with drunken, arrogant smirks. Two slovenly women accompanied them.
    “Those big hicks? What’d they do?”
    “Just said some shit. Took some cheap shots because I was on my own. Thought I was an easy victim. Trying to impress those pigs with them I guess.”
    Jim was adamant. He continued to stare at the three men as he spoke to his brother. “Well fuck