Read Online Echols, Jennifer by Going Too Far (v1.1) [rtf] - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Going Too Far (v1.1) [rtf]
Ads: Link
over."
"God. Why?"
"My parents are at Graceland. I was supposed to go to Miami on the senior trip.' If he'd been in uniform, I probably would have added some sharp pricklies to this, such as, "I can't go to the beach thanks to you, bastard." Strange how I could say this to an enormous cop, but not to a cute blond boy in an Audioslave T-shirt. "They thought it was safe to leave town when I was leaving, too. Now that I'm staying, they need something else to keep me nailed down. Like Purcell, the asshole cook from last night, calling them to say I haven't shown up for my shift or something. They don't trust me. I wonder why not."
He didn't take the bait. He just shook his head and sympathized, of all things. "That's a brutal schedule. Why aren't you in bed now?"
"I have to run every day."
"To lose weight? Please say no."
"What's that supposed to mean?'
"It means...” He pulled at the hair on the back of his head. "Girls always think they need to lose weight, and you don't need to lose weight."
I stood up straight and covered my tummy with my hands. "You're saying I'm too skinny."
He took a long, thoughtful drag and exhaled as he spoke. "No. You're not."
Was he saying I was fat in all the right places? I put my hands on my hips, pushed my shoulders forward a little for enhancement of cleavage in my V-neck T-shirt, and leaned to the left to stretch my side. I guess I probably looked pretty good, if you were into blue hair and extreme fatigue.
But he was a frightened horse about to bolt. He wore that expression he tended to wear when I got too close to him, the oh-my-God-she's-trying-to-seduce-me-and-I-don't-like-it look.
I gave up and relaxed my shoulders. "You're talking about Angie Pettit. She doesn't count. She's a midget. She's so cute and petite you want to pinch her head off."
Johnafter took one last short drag from the cigarette, threw it down, and squashed it into the dirt with the heel of his running shoe. He imagined the cigarette butt was my head.
"I take it you're still dating her," I said.
"No. She broke up with me last fall."
Ah, the cigarette was Angie's head. "Why'd she break up with you?"
Now he put both hands in what was left of his hair and slowly stroked backward. Either this was a show of discomfort he controlled carefully when he was in uniform, or he wanted me to notice his huge triceps. Believe me, I noticed.
"Because I'm a cop," he said, "and I live in this town, and she didn't want to get stuck here. She wanted to go to UAB."
This surprised me. Angie did not seem like college material. She seemed like cosmetology school material. Not that this was an insult. I knew from experience it was very difficult to get hair to take blue color and hold it for any length of time.
Oh, why not. I leaned to the right and asked him, "Are you dating anyone now?"
"What?" He stepped out of the way to let a jogger pass on the track. Watching the retreat of the woman's large pink terry-cloth buttocks, he explained, "There's not a lot of opportunity for me to date, or even meet someone. I'm not awake when other people are awake."
"What do you do for fun?"
"Fun," he mused. "What's your definition of fun?"
"It's not a good sign if you have to think about it that hard. Basically, your life sucks because of this job. Why do you want this job?"
"It's something I've wanted to do since I was a kid."
I wanted to scream, Why? But I knew I'd get another non-answer. "So, you ran track, right?"
"In high school?"
I straightened up. "You just graduated nine months ago. You really do act like you're forty years old." He blinked. "I do?"
" Yes, in high school. Tiffany said you were friends with Will Billingsley and Rashad Lowry and those track guys." "Yeah," he said slowly. "Do y'all still hang out?" "No, they're at UAB." "Why didn't you go to UAB?"
"I told you," he said. "I wanted to be a cop." He looked around the park like this conversation was making him uncomfortable and he needed a way out.
"Why didn't you
"God. Why?"
"My parents are at Graceland. I was supposed to go to Miami on the senior trip.' If he'd been in uniform, I probably would have added some sharp pricklies to this, such as, "I can't go to the beach thanks to you, bastard." Strange how I could say this to an enormous cop, but not to a cute blond boy in an Audioslave T-shirt. "They thought it was safe to leave town when I was leaving, too. Now that I'm staying, they need something else to keep me nailed down. Like Purcell, the asshole cook from last night, calling them to say I haven't shown up for my shift or something. They don't trust me. I wonder why not."
He didn't take the bait. He just shook his head and sympathized, of all things. "That's a brutal schedule. Why aren't you in bed now?"
"I have to run every day."
"To lose weight? Please say no."
"What's that supposed to mean?'
"It means...” He pulled at the hair on the back of his head. "Girls always think they need to lose weight, and you don't need to lose weight."
I stood up straight and covered my tummy with my hands. "You're saying I'm too skinny."
He took a long, thoughtful drag and exhaled as he spoke. "No. You're not."
Was he saying I was fat in all the right places? I put my hands on my hips, pushed my shoulders forward a little for enhancement of cleavage in my V-neck T-shirt, and leaned to the left to stretch my side. I guess I probably looked pretty good, if you were into blue hair and extreme fatigue.
But he was a frightened horse about to bolt. He wore that expression he tended to wear when I got too close to him, the oh-my-God-she's-trying-to-seduce-me-and-I-don't-like-it look.
I gave up and relaxed my shoulders. "You're talking about Angie Pettit. She doesn't count. She's a midget. She's so cute and petite you want to pinch her head off."
Johnafter took one last short drag from the cigarette, threw it down, and squashed it into the dirt with the heel of his running shoe. He imagined the cigarette butt was my head.
"I take it you're still dating her," I said.
"No. She broke up with me last fall."
Ah, the cigarette was Angie's head. "Why'd she break up with you?"
Now he put both hands in what was left of his hair and slowly stroked backward. Either this was a show of discomfort he controlled carefully when he was in uniform, or he wanted me to notice his huge triceps. Believe me, I noticed.
"Because I'm a cop," he said, "and I live in this town, and she didn't want to get stuck here. She wanted to go to UAB."
This surprised me. Angie did not seem like college material. She seemed like cosmetology school material. Not that this was an insult. I knew from experience it was very difficult to get hair to take blue color and hold it for any length of time.
Oh, why not. I leaned to the right and asked him, "Are you dating anyone now?"
"What?" He stepped out of the way to let a jogger pass on the track. Watching the retreat of the woman's large pink terry-cloth buttocks, he explained, "There's not a lot of opportunity for me to date, or even meet someone. I'm not awake when other people are awake."
"What do you do for fun?"
"Fun," he mused. "What's your definition of fun?"
"It's not a good sign if you have to think about it that hard. Basically, your life sucks because of this job. Why do you want this job?"
"It's something I've wanted to do since I was a kid."
I wanted to scream, Why? But I knew I'd get another non-answer. "So, you ran track, right?"
"In high school?"
I straightened up. "You just graduated nine months ago. You really do act like you're forty years old." He blinked. "I do?"
" Yes, in high school. Tiffany said you were friends with Will Billingsley and Rashad Lowry and those track guys." "Yeah," he said slowly. "Do y'all still hang out?" "No, they're at UAB." "Why didn't you go to UAB?"
"I told you," he said. "I wanted to be a cop." He looked around the park like this conversation was making him uncomfortable and he needed a way out.
"Why didn't you
Similar Books
