Read Online The Girl Next Door by Brad Parks - Free Book Online
Authors: Brad Parks
Tags: Fiction
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buckle.
Then suddenly she wasn’t.
“Oh my God, this can’t happen,” she said, turning herself perpendicular to me and taking perhaps two steps away.
“Sure it can,” I said, moving toward her and putting both arms around her shoulders. “Neither of us should be driving anyway. Let’s just get a hotel room and enjoy this.”
“No, I … That can’t happen,” she said, breaking out of my grasp.
“Why the hell not? We seem to do this all the time. Maybe that ought to tell us something.”
She looked down at herself to make sure her dress was properly adjusted, then started walking purposefully—if drunkenly—back toward the NJPAC. The show had obviously been over for a while, but there were still a few police officers around directing what traffic still lingered in the area. I let her stalk away for a moment, then caught up to her as she crossed Broad Street.
“Hotel,” I said.
“We can’t. I’m your editor.”
“Great. I’ll find a new one.”
“That’s not the point,” she said, walking faster.
“Then what is the point? We’ve been doing this dance for a while now. You keep telling me you want to have a baby with me. I keep telling you I don’t just want to be a sperm donor daddy. Let’s compromise: we’ll have the baby and do all the other stuff that goes with it, too.”
“You’re just drunk and horny. You don’t mean that—”
“I do, too,” I cut in.
“And even if you did, I don’t want that. I’ve told you that. I’m not the girl you or anyone else is falling in love with.”
“And why not? I have feelings for you, and I know you have feelings for me. Why don’t we give them a chance?”
She was making bad time in her high heels, and finally, in one remarkably fluid motion, she took them off and transferred them to her left hand. She broke into a fast jog. It was all I could do to catch up with her and gently grab hold of her arm.
“Tina,” I demanded. “Why not?”
She wheeled around and, for a moment, I thought I was going to get eight inches worth of high heel embedded in my face. Instead, I heard:
“The first guy I fell in love with was a total jerk. The second guy I fell in love with was even more of a jerk. And then, just to confirm it wasn’t a fluke, the third guy I fell in love with turned out to be a jerk, too. After a while, I started thinking maybe it wasn’t them. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m toxic. Maybe I just turn them into jerks.”
“Now you’re the one who’s sounding drunk. Let’s get a hotel room and—”
“I’m toxic. Don’t you get that? You’re a great guy, Carter. I want to have a baby with you more than anything, and I hope it’s a boy who turns out to be just like you. But I don’t want to fall in love with you, and I don’t want you falling in love with me. I don’t want to turn you into just another jerk.”
With that, she ran to an idling taxi, leaving me standing on a sidewalk just outside NJPAC, a small cadre of bored cops looking at me like I was prize idiot for letting a beautiful woman get away.
I remained there for a little. Then I flagged down my own cab, giving the driver my address in Bloomfield. I arrived home to find Deadline in his usual spot (the exact, geometric middle of my bed) and shoved him aside so I could begin the predictable tossing and turning.
Strangely, though, it wasn’t the thought in the front of my mind that kept me awake. It was the one wedged off to the side. Of all things, I kept playing over my conversation with Jeanne Nygard:
She was having problems at work … Nancy had reason to fear for her life … It wasn’t an accident.
Could someone really have wanted to kill a waitress/delivery girl? Somewhere in the midst of my fitfulness, I resolved to indulge my curiosity by looking into it for a day, maybe two, if only so I could put it to rest.
* * *
The next morning, I saw that Jeanne Nygard had been thinking about me, too. When I retrieved my phone from the
Then suddenly she wasn’t.
“Oh my God, this can’t happen,” she said, turning herself perpendicular to me and taking perhaps two steps away.
“Sure it can,” I said, moving toward her and putting both arms around her shoulders. “Neither of us should be driving anyway. Let’s just get a hotel room and enjoy this.”
“No, I … That can’t happen,” she said, breaking out of my grasp.
“Why the hell not? We seem to do this all the time. Maybe that ought to tell us something.”
She looked down at herself to make sure her dress was properly adjusted, then started walking purposefully—if drunkenly—back toward the NJPAC. The show had obviously been over for a while, but there were still a few police officers around directing what traffic still lingered in the area. I let her stalk away for a moment, then caught up to her as she crossed Broad Street.
“Hotel,” I said.
“We can’t. I’m your editor.”
“Great. I’ll find a new one.”
“That’s not the point,” she said, walking faster.
“Then what is the point? We’ve been doing this dance for a while now. You keep telling me you want to have a baby with me. I keep telling you I don’t just want to be a sperm donor daddy. Let’s compromise: we’ll have the baby and do all the other stuff that goes with it, too.”
“You’re just drunk and horny. You don’t mean that—”
“I do, too,” I cut in.
“And even if you did, I don’t want that. I’ve told you that. I’m not the girl you or anyone else is falling in love with.”
“And why not? I have feelings for you, and I know you have feelings for me. Why don’t we give them a chance?”
She was making bad time in her high heels, and finally, in one remarkably fluid motion, she took them off and transferred them to her left hand. She broke into a fast jog. It was all I could do to catch up with her and gently grab hold of her arm.
“Tina,” I demanded. “Why not?”
She wheeled around and, for a moment, I thought I was going to get eight inches worth of high heel embedded in my face. Instead, I heard:
“The first guy I fell in love with was a total jerk. The second guy I fell in love with was even more of a jerk. And then, just to confirm it wasn’t a fluke, the third guy I fell in love with turned out to be a jerk, too. After a while, I started thinking maybe it wasn’t them. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m toxic. Maybe I just turn them into jerks.”
“Now you’re the one who’s sounding drunk. Let’s get a hotel room and—”
“I’m toxic. Don’t you get that? You’re a great guy, Carter. I want to have a baby with you more than anything, and I hope it’s a boy who turns out to be just like you. But I don’t want to fall in love with you, and I don’t want you falling in love with me. I don’t want to turn you into just another jerk.”
With that, she ran to an idling taxi, leaving me standing on a sidewalk just outside NJPAC, a small cadre of bored cops looking at me like I was prize idiot for letting a beautiful woman get away.
I remained there for a little. Then I flagged down my own cab, giving the driver my address in Bloomfield. I arrived home to find Deadline in his usual spot (the exact, geometric middle of my bed) and shoved him aside so I could begin the predictable tossing and turning.
Strangely, though, it wasn’t the thought in the front of my mind that kept me awake. It was the one wedged off to the side. Of all things, I kept playing over my conversation with Jeanne Nygard:
She was having problems at work … Nancy had reason to fear for her life … It wasn’t an accident.
Could someone really have wanted to kill a waitress/delivery girl? Somewhere in the midst of my fitfulness, I resolved to indulge my curiosity by looking into it for a day, maybe two, if only so I could put it to rest.
* * *
The next morning, I saw that Jeanne Nygard had been thinking about me, too. When I retrieved my phone from the
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