Read Online Rolling Thunder by Chris Grabenstein - Free Book Online

sense tells me we’re about to have an incident.
    â€œI really can’t let you see the computer screen—”
    â€œThis is fucking unbelievable,” fumes Hausler. “I come here every weekend.”
    â€œThey updated the membership rolls late last night, told us to double-check everybody’s cards today—”
    â€œThis is total fucking bullshit. I paid my fucking dues.”
    â€œIf you’d like to put the charge on a credit card—”
    â€œWhat? So you can double-bill me? Fucking forget it!”
    I’m about to butt in when Gail comes out of the women’s locker room in her street clothes, which, by the way, are just about as skimpy as her gym clothes. Up top she has on this tight little yellow-and-red Sugar Babies tee—looks like the vintage logo from a bag of Sugar Babies. I swear she bought it at a store for newborns, it’s that small.
    â€œHey, Marvin,” she says.
    The dentist backs away from the counter. Stops acting like a spoiled brat.
    â€œHey,” he says, his voice all silky and deep. Maybe he studies Luther Vandross CDs. “How’s it going?”
    â€œGreat.”
    â€œMissed you last night.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe date we didn’t have. How’s your grandmother?”
    â€œHuh? Oh—better. Thanks!”
    â€œGood. Glad to hear it. Hey, I got Leno tickets for down in AC. Interested?” Dr. Marv is leaning one cocked arm against the counter now, putting on his suave ‘n smooth moves.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWe could take your grandmother with us. If she gets sick again, I could write her a prescription.”
    â€œThat’s sweet.”
    â€œHey—I just want to be close to you.”
    I can’t believe this. Dr. Marvin Hausler, DDS—whose face reminds me of the glasses-wearing chimp you’d see on a monkey calendar—is using recycled Carpenters’ lyrics from 1971 to hit on Gail Baker? What do they teach these guys at dental school?
    â€œI told you, Marv—I can’t. Not anymore. Not right now.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause, okay?”
    â€œBecause why?”
    The dude sounds like he’s two years old.
    â€œAnyway,” says Gail, flashing her dazzling white smile, which, I guess, Dr. Hausler had something to do with, “thanks for the invite. Have a great workout!”
    Gail bounces out the door like a jiggling pack of Sugar Babies with only two candies left in the bag.
    â€œWhoa. Wait up, Gail …”
    Dr. Hausler storms off after her. Maybe he wants to give her a few flossing tips.
    I turn toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and watch their sidewalk scene play out.
    Gail, of course, keeps her cool. Keeps on smiling and looking hot as hell.
    Dr. Hausler, on the other hand, is fuming. Waving his arms up and down like a sixth grader throwing a temper tantrum when he finds out his gorgeous teacher won’t even consider dating him because, well, he’s a kid and she isn’t.
    Rabid spittle is flying out of his mouth now.
    I wonder why guys do this.
    Do they really think girls will hop in the sack with them if they act like screaming meemies? That they’ll suddenly say, “You know, I find your loud threats and obnoxious antics strangely attractive. Let’s go have sex.”
    Ain’t gonna happen.
    Gail leans in and gives the dentist a quick peck on the cheek.
    â€œThank you,” she says, I think. I need to take a class in lip-reading.
    â€œFuck you,” says Marvin—his lips are much easier to read. Especially because he keeps repeating himself: “Fuck you!” This time he adds “Bitch!”
    Then he storms off to his sports car.
    Gail bops up the sidewalk. I figure she has an appointment at that nail spa. Probably needs to get the white tips repainted so they keep looking good against her golden-brown tan.
    Me?
    I need to hit Chunky’s Cheese Steaks.
    I earned