Read Online Night Work by Greg F. Gifune - Free Book Online Page A

raised the shade and watched the street. The kids on the corner remained, and in the public park across the street some sort of disturbance between a man and a woman spilled over to the next block as they argued while walking.
        He opened his bedroom door, listened to the sounds of a television game show blasting from the set in the living room.
        "Is that old man your father?"
        "Yeah." Gus shut the door. "We've lived together since my mother died."
        "Both my parents are still alive, I think."
        Gus forced a montage of memories from his mind. "Are you hungry?"
        She nodded.
        "Good. My treat. There's a diner over by the airport I like. You can get breakfast day or night."
        "I know the one, only I can't be off the street too long."
        Gus looked at her. "You got a pimp?"
        She shook her head. "I'm outlaw."
        "Then what's the rush?"
        "I got bills to pay, and a daughter at home."
        "How old?"
        A coy smile slowly surfaced across her otherwise callous face. "Three and a half. Her name's Tiffany."
        "Nice."
        "What do you do? For a living, I mean."
        "I'm a businessman."
        "You do pretty good?"
        Gus shrugged. "All right."
        "As for me, I only work three nights a week. I need to score a certain amount whenever I go out, you know?"
        "I'll flip you another forty for the rest of the night," he said abruptly. "We come back here and go to sleep. In the morning I'll give you a ride home. Be nice to me on the way."
        "I can be real nice for an even fifty."
        "Fine."
        April studied Gus the way a scientist observes lab rats. "Why are you being so cool to me?"
        "I didn't know I was."
        "Maybe you're just lonely?"
        Gus retrieved his pants from the floor and stepped into them with a sudden scowl. "We can go get some dinner or I can drop your ass back on the street, honey. Up to you."
        "Kathleen," the woman said softly. "My name's Kathleen."
        "Augustus Lemieux. My friends call me Gus."
        "Believe me, I've heard some wild names - guys make up all kinds of crazy shit - but I'd bet that's gotta be your real name." They shook hands awkwardly. "Hiya, Gus."
        "You didn't laugh," he thought aloud. "Everybody laughs the first time they hear my name."
        She smiled. "Try going by the name April Showers."
        Gus wrapped his arm around Kathleen and escorted her to the door. He had no way of knowing for sure if her sudden warmth was genuine, or merely the actions of a whore going through the motions after having been paid for the effort. For some reason, it didn't matter.
        It didn't matter at all.
        

CHAPTER 4
        
        The Italian Pioneers Social Club was located on a quiet but accessible side street less than three blocks from the part of the city where Frank had grown up. The neighborhood hadn't changed at all in the six years since his departure, and many of the same people inhabited the streets, corners and alleys. During particularly hot times such as these, the area came to life in a vibrant and lusty way all its own. Children played in the street, rode their bicycles, skipped rope, tossed footballs or baseballs, formed pick-up basketball scrimmages on the local courts, and danced through the powerful spray of freshly de-capped fire hydrants. Older women leaned on windowsills, watching the festivities below, swapping stories and gossip with neighbors, while men, most clad in shorts and T-shirts, took up residence in plastic or metal lawn chairs they had strategically arranged in front of stoops and various establishments. The constant smell of fresh foods and pastries mixed with those normally associated with city life, and a feeling of security and trust unique to the neighborhood blanketed the area.
        Although most of Frank's memories were pleasant, he never visited the neighborhood