Read Online Pinch of Love (9781101558638) by Alicia Bessette - Free Book Online Page B

arm, and he paws the snow.
    â€œRun,” I say.
    He yawns.
    â€œAhab, run!”
    He sneezes.
    Behind us, car wheels crunch on ice. A police cruiser rolls up to the field, toward the gate. France sits behind the wheel. For a moment she watches us and talks into her radio. Slowly, she gets out of the cruiser, shuts the door, strolls over. She hangs her stick arms over the chain-link fence.
    â€œEverything okay?” she asks. “Cold out tonight. Hey, Ingrid, right?”
    Ingrid beams. “Hi, Officer Frances,” she says.
    France offers Ingrid a smile of crowded, yellowing teeth.
    â€œHey, France,” I say through stiffened lips. It’s so cold, my eyeballs sting.
    She puts an arm around me and squeezes my shoulder against hers. “How’s your kitchen?” she asks.
    â€œFine. No damage.”
    â€œSo I hear. You doin’ okay?”
    Ahab trots to the fence and sniffs France’s fingers. She tries to scratch his chin but can’t quite reach. He walks a few paces away, squats, and pees. Steam rises around him like he’s onstage at a rock concert or something. For some reason the three of us all watch him pee.
    â€œI’m not exactly comfortable with you being up here alone at night, Zell,” France says.
    â€œI’m not alone.”
    â€œYou know what I mean.” She adjusts her neck warmer labeled WIPPAMUNK POLICE. “Be careful up here. You know? Watch for things. Be alert.”
    â€œAhab’s going to run for me,” Ingrid says.
    â€œThen we’ll go,” I say.
    â€œIt is quite a sight, seeing the Captain run,” France says.
    â€œSo, can we hang out here a few more minutes?”
    â€œJust a few more.” She pounds her leather-gloved fists on the fence points.
    â€œCool. Thanks for not getting all Rosco P. Coltrane on us.”
    France laughs, because when we were little, our favorite show during Friday-night sleepovers was The Dukes of Hazzard, and our favorite character was Rosco. We always cracked up at his bumbling antics: getting tangled in the cord of his CB radio, chasing his sheriff’s hat down a dusty road.
    France won’t ever get a pedicure with me, or take me to the mall to shop for a little black dress, or anything like that, but she’s still my best girlfriend. My best girlfriend whose presence I have a hard time tolerating since The Trip, not only because she reminds me of Nick’s last night in Wippamunk, but also because France was the one who convinced Nick and Dennis to go on The Trip in the first place, to shadow the group for a story in The Wippamunker. Nick returned all excited from that first informational meeting in the town hall basement. He wanted to go to New Orleans for the opportunity to photograph someplace— any place—other than Wippamunk. “I love it here,” he said. “But sometimes it’s just so . . . here, you know? Plus EJ’s going, and France and Russ, and Dennis is totally sold on the idea. Could be cool.”
    Ahab lets out a long whine.
    â€œHe’s cold, Zell,” France says. “You took his coat off.”
    â€œHe never runs with his coat on.”
    â€œWhy won’t he run?” asks Ingrid.
    â€œSometimes greyhounds just don’t want to run,” I say. “Ahab, run!”
    â€œSing,” Ingrid says.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMaybe Ahab needs music to run to. My dad says he can’t run without music.”
    â€œYou sing, then.”
    â€œNo. You sing. It’s your dog.”
    â€œNah.”
    â€œI think Ahab wants you to sing,” Ingrid whispers. She tugs my arm. “He really, really wants you to sing.”
    France laughs. “Yeah, Zell. Sing for us. Let’s hear it.”
    But I know Ahab doesn’t like my singing. He only likes the singing of Gladys Knight and the Pips. And he loves the “Cookie Time” song, which Nick crooned whenever he gave Ahab a treat. He made it up to