Read Online Knee High by the 4th of July by Jess Lourey - Free Book Online

hook up with Dolly again. I would risk possible jail time, and worse, I would risk Johnny seeing me again in these horrible clothes, but I was never one to hide, at least not since I’d been on my own. Life had taught me that a moving target is harder to hit.
    I walked my bike the five blocks back to the street dance, weaving around the cars scrabbling for a parking spot and pedestrians laughing and drinking beer out of plastic cups. The mood was festive, and it was early enough that there were still kids out, excited to be among the grownups at night. I couldn’t squeeze my bike past the throng outside the Rusty Nail, so I walked it across to Larry’s parking lot and hid it behind a row of yellow-blooming potentilla shrubs, careful to avoid the streetlights.
    The closer I drew to the street dance, the more heinous the music became. Fortunately, pretty much any music will do if you’re outside on a hot summer night with a cold beer, and the crowds I passed seemed to be either ignoring the music or laughing at it. I decided to walk the perimeter of the street dance and come around behind it, where it would be quieter. I didn’t spot Dolly Castle or Johnny anywhere I looked. I suppose they could still be on the deck at the Fortune, but I didn’t have the heart to check.
    As I ducked into the alley one block up from the band, I caught a glimpse of two flashing balls. I realized they were electric earrings, and a second later, saw they were attached to Kennie. I slid behind an oak tree and peeked out at her, about forty feet from me. We were on the edge of the residential part of Battle Lake, right where the businesses ended and homes started. She was talking to the man I had seen drive off in the red Humvee, and they were walking toward me. Their conversation drifted over the music.
    “… so embarrassed the Chief has gone missing.”
    “Don’t worry, Kennie. We’ll make it work.”
    Kennie caressed his arm and giggled into his eyes. I was put off by her sloppy flirting. Even though Kennie and Gary Wohnt went to great pains to hide their relationship, the whole town knew they were dating, and her current lite infidelity did not sit well with me. “I know we will, Brando. I know we will.”
    Brando. Brando Erikkson, the owner of the company that had created Chief Wenonga. He was walking like a man proud of his hair shirt, tall and strong, swinging his glossy black hair in the night and cutting his eyes at Kennie. What had the owner of an out-of-town fiberglass company been doing at Les’ Meat and RV?
    Suddenly, the silence was deafening. The band was taking a break, and Kennie and Brando were almost on top of me. I slid around the tree inch by inch as they neared, staying just out of their sight. I waited for the count of twenty, listening to their footfalls grow fainter. Then I scooted out to follow them, my eyes darting side to side, which is exactly why I didn’t notice the solid, six-feet-two-inch mass in front of me until I railroaded right into it.
    My eyes slowly traveled up the unyielding, muscular body to the face, my heart thudding. Had I misjudged? Had Brando backtracked to catch me? When my reluctant eyes met the gaze of the man in front of me, I froze. Oh, this was much worse than Brando. Much worse than anything I could have dreamed up in my worst nightmare, as a matter of fact.

To my horror, I was looking into the blank eyes of Bad Brad. He and I had been dating when I left the Twin Cities in March, and the last time I had seen him, his eyeballs had been closed in bliss as the hussy dog-sitting for my neighbor played his skin flute, accompanied by the hard-to-find CD of Portuguese woodwinds that I had recently purchased for him. He didn’t know that I had caught them in the act, as I had been perched on the second-story roof of a West Bank apartment spying down at him from a skylight. Shortly after I witnessed Brad Cheater Pants in the act, he got into a mysterious bike accident. Seems the nuts