Read Online Running From Mercy by Terra Little - Free Book Online Page A

She has his forehead, smooth and high, with eyebrows that spread out like wings. I look at her and think that Mannie, my makeup artist, would have a field day with her eyes. They are wide, the clearest green, and deep like an ocean. They talk even when her mouth is still and the things they tell me are frightening.
    I’ve seen videos of Nikki running track and I knew she was fast, but in person she is stunning. Whew, can she go! I tagged along with her and Kelli when they went running yesterday, and I was reminded of every minute of my thirty-five years. She is tall and slim like Chad, and I can’t believe I have to look up at her when she is standing next to me. Seems like she’s grown three feet since the last time I saw her. They say pictures don’t really do their subjects justice, and they are absolutely right.
    I’m convinced that Nikki has a future in modeling, with her smooth, brown skin and long face. Did I say she is the spitting image of Chad already? Well, she is. Except for her eyes and hair. She has the Mayes’s green eyes and black hair, but everything else is purely Chad. Even the way she chews gum and blows bubbles. He has stamped everything she does.
    I can’t help feeling disloyal to Paris for being happy about this time I have with Nikki, because I know I never would’ve had it if she hadn’t gone away.
    I would never have come back to this godforsaken place if she were still alive.
    I have to go now. I told David Dixon I would meet him for lunch at Hayden’s Diner today. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell he wants with me, but I guess I have to eat, don’t I?
    Pam

    Miles arrived at Hayden’s Diner before Pam and chose a booth near the back of the room. The place had been designed to resemble a railroad car, with a Formica counter and cracked plastic stools running the length of one wall and plastic covered booths back-to-back along the opposite wall. Windows along the front of the diner afforded a view of Main Street. As he kept an eye out for Pam he wondered if every small town in America had a Main Street. Mercy’s was the town’s hubbub of activity, with various shops and professional offices situated in two long rows across the street from each other, like a frontier western town. The diner sat at the end of one of the rows, between a small dry cleaner and a free-standing building that housed the DMV office and a state family services center.
    Pam drove up a few minutes later, spotted him through the window, and came inside. From behind her dark glasses she took in the smattering of old men seated at the counter, then angled her head so she could peruse the filled booths. Amused, Miles lifted a hand and beckoned her over to the table.
    â€œWere you looking for the paparazzi?” he joked as she slid into the booth across from him. A wry smile touched Pam’s lips. She plucked the glasses off her nose and dropped them inside the Cavalli tote she carried. “I don’t care about the press. I’m used to them. I was checking to make sure the coast was clear of certain townsfolk, who I don’t really want to see and who shall remain nameless.”
    â€œHow can you get onstage and entertain a hundred thousand people without breaking a sweat and be afraid of a few harmless old folks?”
    â€œAfraid is a strong word, and I know plenty of old folks who aren’t all that harmless. Hello, Peaches,” she looked up as a waitress approached their table.
    â€œHey, Pam.” Peaches was a short, pleasingly plump woman with a wide smile and mischievous eyes. She and Pam had hung around together for a few months during their sophomore years in high school, before Peaches had gotten pregnant and been forced to slow down. She had six kids now. “How you doing?”
    â€œI’m good. Today anyway. How’s them babies?”
    At the mention of her children Peaches brightened considerably. “Shoot,