Read Online The Blood Red Indian Summer by David Handler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Handler
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totally insane.”
“You’d better not let your dad hear you talk like that. You’re spouting pure blasphemy.”
“Believe me, I’ve done much worse.” June came to a halt before a shiny blue behemoth. “He’s watching us through the showroom window right now. Pretend you’re interested in my spiel, okay? This here’s your new Silverado 2500 HD. It’s got a choice of a Duramax 6.6 liter turbo-diesel or your standard 360 horsepower Vortec 6.0 liter V-8. It has a six-speed automatic transmission, four-wheel anti-lock brakes, air bags…”
“Nice color,” Mitch offered encouragingly. It was all he could think of.
“That’s the Imperial Blue metallic finish. The interior’s light titanium with dark titanium accents.” June swung the driver’s door open for him. “Hop in.”
Mitch climbed in behind the wheel. The cab’s interior was as cushy and carpeted as somebody’s living room. And the wood-trimmed dashboard was so loaded with high-tech controls that it made his bare bones Studey look like a museum piece.
“You’ve got cup holders here, here, here and here,” June said, climbing in next to him. “This right here controls your air conditioning.…”
“Wow, it has air conditioning?”
“And this is your heat.…”
“Wow, it has heat?”
“This particular model has an MP3-compatible CD player, XM radio, a USB port, Bluetooth and the OnStar Safe and Sound plan.”
“June, this truck is better equipped than my house.”
“If you opt for the crew cab you can just roll out your sleeping bag in the backseat and you’re home.” June’s face fell. “God, I truly suck at this, don’t I?”
“You’re doing fine. But it helps if you believe in the product you’re selling.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He handed Mitch the keys. “Let’s ride.”
Mitch started the engine and steered them out of the Auto Mall in quiet, air-conditioned comfort. The truck drove like a luxury sedan. He couldn’t imagine taking it to the town dump with a load of brush.
“My dad will do anything to make a sale,” June informed him. “He has no scruples, no conscience and no patience with me. He thinks I’m soft.”
“And what do you think?”
“That I like to fix up old sailboats. I think I can make a living at it if I move someplace where people sail all year round.”
“Someplace that also happens to be far from your dad?”
“Well, yeah. That, too.”
Mitch took the on-ramp to Route 9 and punched the accelerator. The truck was so powerful that he was cruising the highway at eighty before he realized it. A far cry from his Studey, which started to shake, rattle and roll if he tried to push it past fifty-five. He eased off the gas and said, “What happened, June?”
“Something truly horrible,” June confessed miserably. “Callie … stays over with me a lot, okay? That’s one thing my dad’s cool about. He doesn’t mind her spending the night. Sometimes, she stays until morning. Sometimes, she goes home after I fall asleep and paints for hours. A few nights ago we had the place to ourselves for the evening. Dad and Bonita were at the club with some friends getting drunk. I picked up a pizza. We smoked a joint, watched some totally lame movie and—”
“Wait, which totally lame movie?”
“Uh, Pineapple Express with Seth Rogen and James Franco.”
“You’re telling me you were stoned and yet you still didn’t find it funny?”
“Not really. Why does that even matter?”
“It doesn’t. You’re just in my wheelhouse is all. Go on.…”
“We started, you know, getting busy on the sofa. Then went up to my room and made love. I dozed off after that. I don’t know how many hours later it was when Callie woke me up to make love again. She was totally on fire. And pretty soon I was, too. It had never, ever been like that with us before. We’d always been real gentle and loving. This was just wild . And it was all over so fast that, well, it didn’t hit me until it
“You’d better not let your dad hear you talk like that. You’re spouting pure blasphemy.”
“Believe me, I’ve done much worse.” June came to a halt before a shiny blue behemoth. “He’s watching us through the showroom window right now. Pretend you’re interested in my spiel, okay? This here’s your new Silverado 2500 HD. It’s got a choice of a Duramax 6.6 liter turbo-diesel or your standard 360 horsepower Vortec 6.0 liter V-8. It has a six-speed automatic transmission, four-wheel anti-lock brakes, air bags…”
“Nice color,” Mitch offered encouragingly. It was all he could think of.
“That’s the Imperial Blue metallic finish. The interior’s light titanium with dark titanium accents.” June swung the driver’s door open for him. “Hop in.”
Mitch climbed in behind the wheel. The cab’s interior was as cushy and carpeted as somebody’s living room. And the wood-trimmed dashboard was so loaded with high-tech controls that it made his bare bones Studey look like a museum piece.
“You’ve got cup holders here, here, here and here,” June said, climbing in next to him. “This right here controls your air conditioning.…”
“Wow, it has air conditioning?”
“And this is your heat.…”
“Wow, it has heat?”
“This particular model has an MP3-compatible CD player, XM radio, a USB port, Bluetooth and the OnStar Safe and Sound plan.”
“June, this truck is better equipped than my house.”
“If you opt for the crew cab you can just roll out your sleeping bag in the backseat and you’re home.” June’s face fell. “God, I truly suck at this, don’t I?”
“You’re doing fine. But it helps if you believe in the product you’re selling.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He handed Mitch the keys. “Let’s ride.”
Mitch started the engine and steered them out of the Auto Mall in quiet, air-conditioned comfort. The truck drove like a luxury sedan. He couldn’t imagine taking it to the town dump with a load of brush.
“My dad will do anything to make a sale,” June informed him. “He has no scruples, no conscience and no patience with me. He thinks I’m soft.”
“And what do you think?”
“That I like to fix up old sailboats. I think I can make a living at it if I move someplace where people sail all year round.”
“Someplace that also happens to be far from your dad?”
“Well, yeah. That, too.”
Mitch took the on-ramp to Route 9 and punched the accelerator. The truck was so powerful that he was cruising the highway at eighty before he realized it. A far cry from his Studey, which started to shake, rattle and roll if he tried to push it past fifty-five. He eased off the gas and said, “What happened, June?”
“Something truly horrible,” June confessed miserably. “Callie … stays over with me a lot, okay? That’s one thing my dad’s cool about. He doesn’t mind her spending the night. Sometimes, she stays until morning. Sometimes, she goes home after I fall asleep and paints for hours. A few nights ago we had the place to ourselves for the evening. Dad and Bonita were at the club with some friends getting drunk. I picked up a pizza. We smoked a joint, watched some totally lame movie and—”
“Wait, which totally lame movie?”
“Uh, Pineapple Express with Seth Rogen and James Franco.”
“You’re telling me you were stoned and yet you still didn’t find it funny?”
“Not really. Why does that even matter?”
“It doesn’t. You’re just in my wheelhouse is all. Go on.…”
“We started, you know, getting busy on the sofa. Then went up to my room and made love. I dozed off after that. I don’t know how many hours later it was when Callie woke me up to make love again. She was totally on fire. And pretty soon I was, too. It had never, ever been like that with us before. We’d always been real gentle and loving. This was just wild . And it was all over so fast that, well, it didn’t hit me until it
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