Read Online The Last Day by John Ramsey Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: John Ramsey Miller
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doing damage without any positive results.
Without lifts, Trey was five five, weighed a good two hundred pounds, wore his inch- long black hair heavily oiled, and had bushy sideburns and a thin mustache that gave him the look of a local-cable- channel evan gelist. His shirt was opened to show off a gold chain the size of a ski rope that supported a gold medallion with the letters TD spelled in diamonds within a field of rubies. The face of the gold Rolex precisely mirrored the medallion's design, and several thick gold bracelets wrapped his other wrist like overfed snakes.
“Ward, how the hell are you?” he asked, with the sincerity of a snake-oil salesman.
“Fine,” Ward said. “And you?”
“Good as a man can feel with his clothes on. Speaking of which, this beautiful young thing is Tami with an i Waterman. Not terribly long ago she was featured in an issue of none other than Playboy magazine.”
A woman in her late thirties, with overlarge lips, tight facial skin, and a sculpted nose, stepped into Ward's view. She was chewing enthusiastically on a piece of gum.
“Waterman like the pen. It's a French name. She's not Jewish,” he said, smiling.
“I'm a Sagittarius,” she said in a high- pitched voice that brought to mind a cartoon chicken character.
Trey guffawed and slapped Ward on the shoulder. “She's not Jewish, she's a Sagittarius! Tami, honey, this is Ward McCarty You've heard me talk about him.”
Tami Waterman's tight gold pantsuit coated her contours like latex, showing off her narrow waist and muscular legs. Her enormous breasts were like twin racing blimps, running neck and neck, and she wore enough jewelry to decorate a Christmas tree. She offered her hand to Ward as though she expected him to kiss it. He took her hand and shook it once, wondering if her inch- long nails were glued on.
“He inherited that little toy company you're buying, right?” she gushed. “I love toys.”
“We're still talking it over,” Trey said with a straight face. “Ne-go-see-ate-ting. Ward here is holding out … for a bigger payoff.”
Ward ignored that, tried hard to keep the smile from falling from his face to the floor.
“Not toys. NASCAR memorabilia,” Gene told her. “Everything the race fan desires.”
“You don't sell those little toy cars?”
“They do,” Trey said. “And a lot of other things.”
Using her tongue, Tami moved her gum to one side. “Well, did you ever think about making calendars featuring drivers with their shirts off, maybe in BVDs. Female fans would buy them by the thousands, I bet. And what about a line of fragrances or charm bracelets with itsy-bitsy cars on—”
“Whoa, Tami!” Trey interrupted. “Don't give away your money- making ideas for free.” He narrowed his eyes. “Man, I tell you, Ward. She has got a million of them.”
Tami's smile wavered, and she looked at Trey before meeting Ward's eyes again. “You wouldn't steal my ideas, would you?”
“Of course not,” Gene assured her. “New product ideas have never been a problem for Ward.”
“Gene here tell you the good news?” Trey asked, changing the subject.
Ward turned his eyes to Gene, and despitetheir friendship, wondered if this meeting was a chance encounter after all. Try to read a lawyer's eyes sometime.
“He was just telling me about your father's latest offer,” Ward told him.
“Trey running a toy company,” Tami said. “Can you just imagine it? His toys are mostly big expensive ones. Have you seen his new Viper? Oh, my god! Cherry red with those little sparkle flakes and heavenly yellow leather interior. And my lord, is it ever fast.”
“I bought it because it matches her lipstick and hair,” Trey said.
Ward couldn't think of anything at all to say that wouldn't have been insulting.
“Well, are we close to a deal yet?” Trey asked.
“We were just discussing it,” Gene said.
“Actually,” Ward said, “I've decided that although your father's offer is generous,
Without lifts, Trey was five five, weighed a good two hundred pounds, wore his inch- long black hair heavily oiled, and had bushy sideburns and a thin mustache that gave him the look of a local-cable- channel evan gelist. His shirt was opened to show off a gold chain the size of a ski rope that supported a gold medallion with the letters TD spelled in diamonds within a field of rubies. The face of the gold Rolex precisely mirrored the medallion's design, and several thick gold bracelets wrapped his other wrist like overfed snakes.
“Ward, how the hell are you?” he asked, with the sincerity of a snake-oil salesman.
“Fine,” Ward said. “And you?”
“Good as a man can feel with his clothes on. Speaking of which, this beautiful young thing is Tami with an i Waterman. Not terribly long ago she was featured in an issue of none other than Playboy magazine.”
A woman in her late thirties, with overlarge lips, tight facial skin, and a sculpted nose, stepped into Ward's view. She was chewing enthusiastically on a piece of gum.
“Waterman like the pen. It's a French name. She's not Jewish,” he said, smiling.
“I'm a Sagittarius,” she said in a high- pitched voice that brought to mind a cartoon chicken character.
Trey guffawed and slapped Ward on the shoulder. “She's not Jewish, she's a Sagittarius! Tami, honey, this is Ward McCarty You've heard me talk about him.”
Tami Waterman's tight gold pantsuit coated her contours like latex, showing off her narrow waist and muscular legs. Her enormous breasts were like twin racing blimps, running neck and neck, and she wore enough jewelry to decorate a Christmas tree. She offered her hand to Ward as though she expected him to kiss it. He took her hand and shook it once, wondering if her inch- long nails were glued on.
“He inherited that little toy company you're buying, right?” she gushed. “I love toys.”
“We're still talking it over,” Trey said with a straight face. “Ne-go-see-ate-ting. Ward here is holding out … for a bigger payoff.”
Ward ignored that, tried hard to keep the smile from falling from his face to the floor.
“Not toys. NASCAR memorabilia,” Gene told her. “Everything the race fan desires.”
“You don't sell those little toy cars?”
“They do,” Trey said. “And a lot of other things.”
Using her tongue, Tami moved her gum to one side. “Well, did you ever think about making calendars featuring drivers with their shirts off, maybe in BVDs. Female fans would buy them by the thousands, I bet. And what about a line of fragrances or charm bracelets with itsy-bitsy cars on—”
“Whoa, Tami!” Trey interrupted. “Don't give away your money- making ideas for free.” He narrowed his eyes. “Man, I tell you, Ward. She has got a million of them.”
Tami's smile wavered, and she looked at Trey before meeting Ward's eyes again. “You wouldn't steal my ideas, would you?”
“Of course not,” Gene assured her. “New product ideas have never been a problem for Ward.”
“Gene here tell you the good news?” Trey asked, changing the subject.
Ward turned his eyes to Gene, and despitetheir friendship, wondered if this meeting was a chance encounter after all. Try to read a lawyer's eyes sometime.
“He was just telling me about your father's latest offer,” Ward told him.
“Trey running a toy company,” Tami said. “Can you just imagine it? His toys are mostly big expensive ones. Have you seen his new Viper? Oh, my god! Cherry red with those little sparkle flakes and heavenly yellow leather interior. And my lord, is it ever fast.”
“I bought it because it matches her lipstick and hair,” Trey said.
Ward couldn't think of anything at all to say that wouldn't have been insulting.
“Well, are we close to a deal yet?” Trey asked.
“We were just discussing it,” Gene said.
“Actually,” Ward said, “I've decided that although your father's offer is generous,
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