Read Online Homing by Stephanie Domet - Free Book Online Page B

fire, but she was willing to try anything once. “Sure. Jack Daniels, neat,” she said, twisting over her shoulder to deliver her order to the barkeep.
    â€œJack Daniels, neat,” the nervous guy repeated. He swallowed hard. “Make that two.”
    Charlotte barely tipped her cowboy hat in his direction, smiled at him with her mouth.
    â€œCome here often?” the guy asked. At least he was consistent in his approach, Charlotte thought.
    â€œNo,” she told him. “Never, in fact.”
    The bartender set two glasses up on the bar, poured the shots, said to the nervous guy, “Six bucks.”
    The guy pulled out his money, slid it across the bar. He handed a glass to Charlotte, kept the other one for himself.
    â€œL’chaim,” Charlotte said, raising her glass a moment.
    â€œGezundheit.”

    She laughed once, while confusion rippled across his face. She knocked the JD back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
    Nervous Guy took a big gulp of his drink, coughed and sputtered.
    â€œNeed a pat?” Charlotte asked, lifting her arm.
    He flinched away then remembered himself, coughed and sputtered anew, and finally said, “No, no, I’m good. I’m good.”
    â€œGood,” Charlotte said. She twisted over her shoulder again, held up her empty glass, caught the barkeep’s eye, and said, “’Nother one, please.” She looked at Nervous Guy. “You?”
    He gestured to his drink, barely depleted. “No, uh, no thanks. I’m uh — “
    â€œGood?” Charlotte said.
    â€œYeah,” Nervous Guy said, nervously. “I’m good.”
    * * *
    Henry wrapped his left arm around the girl — what was her name again? Amanda? Alicia? Alison? Fuck, he’d forgotten her name already. No, no, he had it. It was Amanda. Amanda kiss’n’hug, he thought, and laughed into her hair.
    â€œWhat?” she shouted, over the pounding music.
    â€œWhat?” he shouted back.
    She shrugged her shoulders at him, raised her eyebrows.
    â€œI couldn’t hear you,” he yelled.
    She smiled up at him, squirmed a little in his arms. He smiled back. Who cares about conversation, he thought, when you’ve got a smiley, squirmy girl in your arms. He looked over at Johnny Parker who was making the two blondes laugh and toss their hair. Maybe it was going to be a good night. Maybe it already was.
    * * *
    Leah put the last of the clean glasses back into the hoosier. She sank into the rocking chair and wondered if she felt tired enough to sleep. Neil came padding into the kitchen stopped in front of her and meowed. “Hey bubba,” she said. She leaned down to scratch the top of his head. He liked a good hard head scratching that cat. He purred a guttural purr, his ears flattening out to either side of his head. Shebent down in the chair, hooked her hands under his armpits and lifted Neil onto her lap. He squirmed a bit, but when she went back to scratching his head, he smoothed himself out and submitted to being a lap cat, his little cat lips stretched around his little cat teeth in a rictus of pleasure, a Cheshire Cat grin.
    Maybe this was the closest Leah would get to the perfect man she’d been promised by Psychic Sue. The perfect man who was supposedly just around the corner with his Cheshire Cat grin ready to give Leah everything she’d ever wanted. Psychic Sue had pestered Leah for years. Sue wanted to read Leah but something about Sue gave Leah the willies. Sometimes, when they ran into each other at, say, the flea market or out for brunch, Sue would let slip something she’d intuited about Leah’s life or motivations or personality, and it seemed so invasive and show-offy. Sue was intense in a beyond-disarming way, and Leah could barely meet her eyes in public; she shuddered to think what it would be like when it was just the two of them alone in a room together, Sue focusing, psychically, on