Read Online Diamonds and Cole by Micheal Maxwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Micheal Maxwell
Ads: Link
selling anything.” Cole’s tone cooled.
Christopher set down the tree he was carrying and removed his leather garden gloves. The children gave Cole a blank, disinterested glance and went back to spreading peat in the planter. As he crossed the yard, Christopher shoved the gloves into the back pocket of his cargo shorts. Allen Christopher was not what Cole had envisioned. He was taller than Cole, thinner, and had more hair.
All his life, Cole had found too-neat people very suspect. Maybe it was a vanity thing— theirs, not his. Cole always felt haircuts were a nuisance, something that you did a couple weeks after it was absolutely necessary. Allen Christopher, in Cole’s eyes, was coiffured. He had a George Hamilton tan and the look of the guys at the gym who watched themselves in the mirrored walls as they jogged on the treadmill. Christopher approached, pushing his sunglasses back on the top of his head, holding back thick, probably dyed, hair. (Yet another pet peeve of Cole’s. Men just didn’t do that.) Even without his resentment of Christopher’s treatment of Ellie, Cole wasn’t going to like this guy.
“What do you want?” Christopher asked coldly.
“That’s not very friendly.”
“I don’t like strangers in my backyard.”
“Not very neighborly, either,” Cole said, trying to appear friendly.
“Are you my neighbor?” Christopher’s confidence seemed momentarily stalled.
“No, but I might have been. If I had been, I would have been very disappointed in my reception. My name is Cole Sage, I’m an—”
“Cole Sage? I know who you are,” Christopher cut him off. “Same question. What do you want?”
Cole considered the overwhelming urge to punch Christopher in the nose. He flashed back on all the things he had said when he had role-played this scene in his head. Then he thought of Ellie and resisted both.
“I saw Ellie yesterday.”
“So?”
“You know, I thought I was just going to pay you a friendly visit. Try to sort a few things out.”
“We’re not friends. You mean nothing to me. Neither do the mythical romantic adventures I’ve been forced to endure hearing for years.”
Cole took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ellie and I are old friends. She seemed in some distress and called me for some assistance,” Cole said, trying to remain calm. “I simply wanted to see—”
“Ellen is none of your concern. She is my wife. She is terminally ill and is being taken care of. Whatever she told you is no business of yours, and I would thank you to stay away from her.” Christopher’s voice was now just below a shout.
“Like you’ve done?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cole saw Chad approaching on his left. He had none of his father’s concern about appearance. His thin wispy hair came almost to his shoulders and needed to be washed. From his temples to his chin ran the raw, over-pinched signs of untreated acne. Chad wore a sweaty faded T-shirt with the words “Island of LESBOS—Every Man’s Dream” across the chest. Cole thought he looked sweatier than his activity could have produced. As Chad got closer, Cole recognized the acrid stench of a methamphetamine user.
“This guy givin’ you trouble, Dad?” Chad said, trying to stand with a threatening posture.
“So, you must be Chad.”
“That’s right. Who are you?”
“He’s no one,” Christopher barked. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“Yeah, leave,” Chad echoed.
“How long you been a tweaker, kid?”
“You think you’re so smart. What makes you think I use meth?”
Allen Christopher looked from his son to the stranger in his backyard but didn’t speak.
“Well let’s see. Your skin looks like hamburger, your gums are swollen, you’re skin and bones, you smell like a chemical plant, and you’re sweating like it’s a hundred degrees out here. Should we look for tracks, tin foil and lighter, or bags of pills?”
“Chad, what is he talking
Christopher set down the tree he was carrying and removed his leather garden gloves. The children gave Cole a blank, disinterested glance and went back to spreading peat in the planter. As he crossed the yard, Christopher shoved the gloves into the back pocket of his cargo shorts. Allen Christopher was not what Cole had envisioned. He was taller than Cole, thinner, and had more hair.
All his life, Cole had found too-neat people very suspect. Maybe it was a vanity thing— theirs, not his. Cole always felt haircuts were a nuisance, something that you did a couple weeks after it was absolutely necessary. Allen Christopher, in Cole’s eyes, was coiffured. He had a George Hamilton tan and the look of the guys at the gym who watched themselves in the mirrored walls as they jogged on the treadmill. Christopher approached, pushing his sunglasses back on the top of his head, holding back thick, probably dyed, hair. (Yet another pet peeve of Cole’s. Men just didn’t do that.) Even without his resentment of Christopher’s treatment of Ellie, Cole wasn’t going to like this guy.
“What do you want?” Christopher asked coldly.
“That’s not very friendly.”
“I don’t like strangers in my backyard.”
“Not very neighborly, either,” Cole said, trying to appear friendly.
“Are you my neighbor?” Christopher’s confidence seemed momentarily stalled.
“No, but I might have been. If I had been, I would have been very disappointed in my reception. My name is Cole Sage, I’m an—”
“Cole Sage? I know who you are,” Christopher cut him off. “Same question. What do you want?”
Cole considered the overwhelming urge to punch Christopher in the nose. He flashed back on all the things he had said when he had role-played this scene in his head. Then he thought of Ellie and resisted both.
“I saw Ellie yesterday.”
“So?”
“You know, I thought I was just going to pay you a friendly visit. Try to sort a few things out.”
“We’re not friends. You mean nothing to me. Neither do the mythical romantic adventures I’ve been forced to endure hearing for years.”
Cole took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ellie and I are old friends. She seemed in some distress and called me for some assistance,” Cole said, trying to remain calm. “I simply wanted to see—”
“Ellen is none of your concern. She is my wife. She is terminally ill and is being taken care of. Whatever she told you is no business of yours, and I would thank you to stay away from her.” Christopher’s voice was now just below a shout.
“Like you’ve done?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cole saw Chad approaching on his left. He had none of his father’s concern about appearance. His thin wispy hair came almost to his shoulders and needed to be washed. From his temples to his chin ran the raw, over-pinched signs of untreated acne. Chad wore a sweaty faded T-shirt with the words “Island of LESBOS—Every Man’s Dream” across the chest. Cole thought he looked sweatier than his activity could have produced. As Chad got closer, Cole recognized the acrid stench of a methamphetamine user.
“This guy givin’ you trouble, Dad?” Chad said, trying to stand with a threatening posture.
“So, you must be Chad.”
“That’s right. Who are you?”
“He’s no one,” Christopher barked. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“Yeah, leave,” Chad echoed.
“How long you been a tweaker, kid?”
“You think you’re so smart. What makes you think I use meth?”
Allen Christopher looked from his son to the stranger in his backyard but didn’t speak.
“Well let’s see. Your skin looks like hamburger, your gums are swollen, you’re skin and bones, you smell like a chemical plant, and you’re sweating like it’s a hundred degrees out here. Should we look for tracks, tin foil and lighter, or bags of pills?”
“Chad, what is he talking
Similar Books
