Read Online Empty Mile by Matthew Stokoe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Matthew Stokoe
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Stan into the woods again.
CHAPTER 7
A round eight o’clock in the evening several days after the Elephant Society picnic, Gareth called me on my cell and asked if I could do him a favor. A job for one of his hookers had come in but he had a date and needed someone else to drive her. I wasn’t desperate for the fifty dollars he offered, but I wanted an excuse to get out of the house, to do something that didn’t involve Stan or my father. So I said I’d do it. If nothing else it was a distraction from worrying about whether or not Marla was ever going to call.
The drive up to the lake in the dark was brutal and I was glad when I pulled into the parking area and saw the lighted windows of Gareth’s bungalow. I went into the office and found him sitting behind the desk, wearing a dark suit and drinking a can of beer.
“Thanks for helping out, dude. I do not want to blow it with this woman.” He handed me a business card. “Her address. When you’re finished tonight come over, I want you to meet her.”
I read the card. It had her name, Vivian Gelhardt , her address, and, at the bottom, the title Environmental Friend.
“Environmental Friend?”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “No one’s perfect. She’ll tell you all about it if you ask her.”
“I’ll see how I’m feeling.”
“Sure. Here’s the place for the girl.”
He handed me a scrap of paper with the scrawled address for a house on the Slopes.
“Just drive her up there, make sure she gets inside okay, wait in the car till she’s finished, then drive her back here again. Shouldn’t be more than an hour. Here’s your dough.” As he passed me the money he held my eyes and said, “We’re going to be good friends again, Johnny. You’ll see. I bet in a while we’ll be spending a whole lot more time together.”
We went outside and Gareth pointed down the line of cabins.
“She’s in the last one. I’ll see you at Vivian’s.”
He walked off toward his Jeep.
The girl was waiting when I knocked on her door. We said hello but not much else. She spent most of the trip puckering her lips at herself in the rearview mirror.
The Slopes sat high above town on the north face of the Oakridge basin. Between them and the residential areas behind Back Town there was a wide, steeply climbing belt of Bureau of Land Management forest through which a long, narrow road cut its way, connecting Oakridge’s richest residents with the common folk below. Once we’d passed through town and entered the forest the dark wrapped itself around us like a blanket and there was nothing to see from the road except a solid black wall of trees and the occasional entrance to a fire trail.
The house I took the girl to was built to look like it had been made out of mud bricks. It had a five-car garage and a garden that was separated from the street by an adobe wall. The plants in the grounds were lit here and there by gentle baby-spots. I watched as the girl was buzzed through the gate and made sure she got up the driveway and into the house. Then I just sat and waited and an hour later she came out again and I took her back to Tunney Lake.
I didn’t really have any great desire to spend time with Gareth, but I didn’t feel like going home either. Plus I was vaguely interested in seeing what type of woman could bear to be with him. So I checked Vivian’s address on her card and made my way across Oakridge and back up to the Slopes again.
The house was on the first cross street at the top of the road through the forest. It was a two-story log cabin the size of a large suburban house, made from pale wood that had been stripped of bark and varnished. Over the front door there was a semicircular panel of stained glass that threw a fan of blotchy colored light onto the fieldstone path leading across the lawn from the street.
Gareth answered the door when I knocked. He had a drink in his hand and looked relaxed and at home in surroundings that were very much more salubrious
CHAPTER 7
A round eight o’clock in the evening several days after the Elephant Society picnic, Gareth called me on my cell and asked if I could do him a favor. A job for one of his hookers had come in but he had a date and needed someone else to drive her. I wasn’t desperate for the fifty dollars he offered, but I wanted an excuse to get out of the house, to do something that didn’t involve Stan or my father. So I said I’d do it. If nothing else it was a distraction from worrying about whether or not Marla was ever going to call.
The drive up to the lake in the dark was brutal and I was glad when I pulled into the parking area and saw the lighted windows of Gareth’s bungalow. I went into the office and found him sitting behind the desk, wearing a dark suit and drinking a can of beer.
“Thanks for helping out, dude. I do not want to blow it with this woman.” He handed me a business card. “Her address. When you’re finished tonight come over, I want you to meet her.”
I read the card. It had her name, Vivian Gelhardt , her address, and, at the bottom, the title Environmental Friend.
“Environmental Friend?”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “No one’s perfect. She’ll tell you all about it if you ask her.”
“I’ll see how I’m feeling.”
“Sure. Here’s the place for the girl.”
He handed me a scrap of paper with the scrawled address for a house on the Slopes.
“Just drive her up there, make sure she gets inside okay, wait in the car till she’s finished, then drive her back here again. Shouldn’t be more than an hour. Here’s your dough.” As he passed me the money he held my eyes and said, “We’re going to be good friends again, Johnny. You’ll see. I bet in a while we’ll be spending a whole lot more time together.”
We went outside and Gareth pointed down the line of cabins.
“She’s in the last one. I’ll see you at Vivian’s.”
He walked off toward his Jeep.
The girl was waiting when I knocked on her door. We said hello but not much else. She spent most of the trip puckering her lips at herself in the rearview mirror.
The Slopes sat high above town on the north face of the Oakridge basin. Between them and the residential areas behind Back Town there was a wide, steeply climbing belt of Bureau of Land Management forest through which a long, narrow road cut its way, connecting Oakridge’s richest residents with the common folk below. Once we’d passed through town and entered the forest the dark wrapped itself around us like a blanket and there was nothing to see from the road except a solid black wall of trees and the occasional entrance to a fire trail.
The house I took the girl to was built to look like it had been made out of mud bricks. It had a five-car garage and a garden that was separated from the street by an adobe wall. The plants in the grounds were lit here and there by gentle baby-spots. I watched as the girl was buzzed through the gate and made sure she got up the driveway and into the house. Then I just sat and waited and an hour later she came out again and I took her back to Tunney Lake.
I didn’t really have any great desire to spend time with Gareth, but I didn’t feel like going home either. Plus I was vaguely interested in seeing what type of woman could bear to be with him. So I checked Vivian’s address on her card and made my way across Oakridge and back up to the Slopes again.
The house was on the first cross street at the top of the road through the forest. It was a two-story log cabin the size of a large suburban house, made from pale wood that had been stripped of bark and varnished. Over the front door there was a semicircular panel of stained glass that threw a fan of blotchy colored light onto the fieldstone path leading across the lawn from the street.
Gareth answered the door when I knocked. He had a drink in his hand and looked relaxed and at home in surroundings that were very much more salubrious
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