Read Online Sundowner Ubunta by Anthony Bidulka - Free Book Online
Authors: Anthony Bidulka
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nothing less would do. It hadn’t seemed like an unobtainable list at the time, and I did find him-or thought I had-more than once. The first one had lasted almost a year, although I was convinced we’d grow old together-until I found him banging one of my soon-to-be-ex club buddies. The second went on for fourteen months until he found me banging his brother-tsk, tsk, tsk, Russell. The third one-I was well-rehearsed by then-lasted just shy of four years.
When that one ended, I reconsidered my list of must-haves.
Some of them I didn’t want anymore, some were never a good idea in the first place, and the ones I decided to keep got stored on a back shelf somewhere in my head. I decided to just live and see what happened without getting into a relationship that required the “what’s your favourite colour” conversation or a first “something” anniversary present.
I’d been surprisingly content ever since.
I had to wonder, though, if this thing with Alex really counted. Sure it had been about eight months, but for most of it he’d been doing his security work everywhere but in Saskatoon, and most of our time together had been spent sweating and grunting, rather than talking or cooking or taking long walks together like other new couples do. What I was sure of was that I was extremely attracted to him and he was to me; there was something about his very being that turned my belly to jelly and my knees into cheese: his voice, his skin, his eyes, his smell.
I wasn’t used to thinking about this kind of stuff anymore; it used to be fun (and at times gloriously torturous) to endlessly contemplate love and relationships, but now, well, there just seemed to be a lot more at stake. Another thing I know is that you can’t force introspection, so I decided to go home and have a nice dinner and an early night with my dogs. I had gotten up at four a.m. after all; I couldn’t be expected to solve all my woes, personal and professional, on less than five hours of sleep. Right?
Alberta’s client was making some strange humming-chanting noises when I left my office, so I made my way down the stairs as furtively as I could and headed for the back door.
As soon as I stepped outside I saw him. Waiting for me.
32 of 170
3/15/2011 11:02 PM
I heard the PWC door whooshing shut and locking behind me.
Sitting cross-legged on the hood of my Mazda was some kind of bizarre, evil-looking, yoga-instructor-gone-bad guy, all in black, with a balaclava covering his face.
33 of 170
3/15/2011 11:02 PM
Chapter 4
My first thought was to wonder if the asshole was putting a dent in the hood of my car, sitting on it like he was-especially since he looked to be a good two hundred pounds when he climbed down from his perch to confront me at the back door of PWC. I took a quick glance around, but at this time of night in this part of town- with its preponderance of churches and business buildings-the neighbourhood was virtually a ghost town. No help there. Could I get Alberta’s attention somehow? If she was as good a psychic as she claimed to be, couldn’t she sense I was in danger? I thought about hollering my head off, but I’m not much into screaming and decided to hold off on that route until it seemed absolutely necessary.
The night had grown glacial, as it is apt to do at that time of year, and my jacket was no warmer than it had been that morning in the Mount Royal Collegiate parking lot. It struck me that I seemed to be having a lot of parking lot conversations and would have to start dressing appropriately.
“You’re the guy looking for Ridge, right?” the man asked in a baritone, no doubt influenced by watching way too many Godfather movies.
“Who wants to know?” Sounded like a standard reply, so I used it.
“That would be none of your business, buster. I’m just here to give you a friendly little message.”
If I heard anything about swimming with the fishes or cement shoes I was going to have to laugh in this
When that one ended, I reconsidered my list of must-haves.
Some of them I didn’t want anymore, some were never a good idea in the first place, and the ones I decided to keep got stored on a back shelf somewhere in my head. I decided to just live and see what happened without getting into a relationship that required the “what’s your favourite colour” conversation or a first “something” anniversary present.
I’d been surprisingly content ever since.
I had to wonder, though, if this thing with Alex really counted. Sure it had been about eight months, but for most of it he’d been doing his security work everywhere but in Saskatoon, and most of our time together had been spent sweating and grunting, rather than talking or cooking or taking long walks together like other new couples do. What I was sure of was that I was extremely attracted to him and he was to me; there was something about his very being that turned my belly to jelly and my knees into cheese: his voice, his skin, his eyes, his smell.
I wasn’t used to thinking about this kind of stuff anymore; it used to be fun (and at times gloriously torturous) to endlessly contemplate love and relationships, but now, well, there just seemed to be a lot more at stake. Another thing I know is that you can’t force introspection, so I decided to go home and have a nice dinner and an early night with my dogs. I had gotten up at four a.m. after all; I couldn’t be expected to solve all my woes, personal and professional, on less than five hours of sleep. Right?
Alberta’s client was making some strange humming-chanting noises when I left my office, so I made my way down the stairs as furtively as I could and headed for the back door.
As soon as I stepped outside I saw him. Waiting for me.
32 of 170
3/15/2011 11:02 PM
I heard the PWC door whooshing shut and locking behind me.
Sitting cross-legged on the hood of my Mazda was some kind of bizarre, evil-looking, yoga-instructor-gone-bad guy, all in black, with a balaclava covering his face.
33 of 170
3/15/2011 11:02 PM
Chapter 4
My first thought was to wonder if the asshole was putting a dent in the hood of my car, sitting on it like he was-especially since he looked to be a good two hundred pounds when he climbed down from his perch to confront me at the back door of PWC. I took a quick glance around, but at this time of night in this part of town- with its preponderance of churches and business buildings-the neighbourhood was virtually a ghost town. No help there. Could I get Alberta’s attention somehow? If she was as good a psychic as she claimed to be, couldn’t she sense I was in danger? I thought about hollering my head off, but I’m not much into screaming and decided to hold off on that route until it seemed absolutely necessary.
The night had grown glacial, as it is apt to do at that time of year, and my jacket was no warmer than it had been that morning in the Mount Royal Collegiate parking lot. It struck me that I seemed to be having a lot of parking lot conversations and would have to start dressing appropriately.
“You’re the guy looking for Ridge, right?” the man asked in a baritone, no doubt influenced by watching way too many Godfather movies.
“Who wants to know?” Sounded like a standard reply, so I used it.
“That would be none of your business, buster. I’m just here to give you a friendly little message.”
If I heard anything about swimming with the fishes or cement shoes I was going to have to laugh in this
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