Read Online The Knowland Retribution by Richard Greener - Free Book Online Page B

took on Billy, “Who you think’s better?”
    â€œThe Paragons,” Billy said. “I’ll take them on ‘Florence’ alone.”
    â€œI heard that,” said Ike. “You may have got me there.” He threw his head back and launched a mangled falsetto, “ Fah-lah-ho-rance—hoooo weeee . . .”
    Billy turned to Walter at the end of the bar. “What beats ‘Florence’? Nothing does. Even Ike knows that.”
    He put Walter’s usual beverage on a new Billy’s coaster. But he kept his thin, white fingers around the bottle. Walter had to speak up for his drink.
    â€œâ€˜Gloria,’” Walter said.
    â€œThe Cadillacs,” Ike nodded his approval, and his tortured falsetto took off again, “Glaw-haw-ree-ha oh oh—it’s not Mah-ree-hee-hee—Glaw-haw-ree-ha—it’s not Sher-ee-hee.”
    â€œThe best,” said Walter. “You ever have a girlfriend named Gloria?”
    Billy shook his head.
    â€œMe neither,” said Ike in a very soft, strained voice. He knew the name of Walter’s ex-wife.
    â€œI did once,” Walter said. “I think of her when I hear that song. It’s been a long time. But even that brought it back.” He raised his bottle to Ike in salute.
    Ike said, “You know Enchantment?”
    Billy said, “I know the word, but you mean something else?”
    Ike lit another cigarette. “The group Enchantment. One of them one-hit groups. They did a cover of ‘Gloria’ in, I don’t know, mid-eighties. Damn good too.”
    â€œEnchantment,” said Billy. “You want me to write it down?”
    Walter said, “Write down Cadillacs and also Paragons. Ike, you still need to give us one. Just one.” The old man mulled it over. Walter sipped contentedly. Ike chuckled and dragged on the evil stick he was smoking. “Close as you boys are to me, I feel better the closer you are. Gentlemen, I offer you The Channels.” Billy picked up the chalk and wrote it all down: Cadillacs/Paragons/Channels . All three of them took special pleasure watching Billy’s regulars, as well as the tourists, mull over their choices and cast their votes. The delight was all the greater since nobody had any idea why they were voting at all. Someone would yell out their selection and Billy dutifully lifted his chalk and made a slash mark beneath it.
    â€œThe Channels,” said Ike. “That’s nice. Very, very nice.”

Atlanta
    Leonard showered, shaved, and found clean clothes. He raised the blinds and opened all the windows. The kitchen doors leading to the deck were thrown wide open for the first time since . . . since that terrible day in June. The winter air blew through the house and out again, taking with it the stink of Leonard’s isolation that had settled in over eight months. He cleaned everything. He rubbed and scrubbed and vacuumed, washed the dirty toilets, and wiped the dust from the furniture. It took him all day and most of the evening. It made him feel good again. The next morning he got a haircut, and before he returned home he shopped for fruits and vegetables and fresh-baked bread. He tossed out all the liquor still in the house. That night he couldn’t sleep, so instead he began taking inventory of his belongings.
    Leonard Martin sold everything. Everything.
    His contacts in the real estate community connected him with the right agent to sell his house in Alpharetta, for which he got top dollar. The same agent was able to refer Leonard to a realtor on Hilton Head. He did better with the Hilton Head condo than he thought he would. Before he closed on his house he disposed of his personal property—furniture, art, and Nina’s jewelry—for which he sought help from a diamond dealer with whom he had worked on a series of rental property purchases.
    â€œYou want to sell everything?” the diamond dealer asked him. “You might