Read Online The Summer of Last Resort by J. A. Browning - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. A. Browning
Tags: Romance
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that’s gone.”
Jake dutifully returned that evening after the brown car was gone, but when he knocked and rang the doorbell there was no answer. He was about to leave when he noticed that something flat and bulky was lying under the doormat. He gingerly pulled it out and saw that it was a high school yearbook,the kind of book that kids get their picture in and then write stupid stuff about their friends. Jake looked around and, seeing no one, quickly returned to his car with the book under his coat.
That night, at the hotel, he gave Sandy a call and told her about the book.
“So, now you’ve got pictures and names of the friends?”
“That’s right,” he replied cockily. “Including a Kim. Hey, you’re gonna have to check out this Keith kid for yourself,” Jake said, looking at the handsome young man whose picture had been circled and had little notes written around it. There were pictures of him in football. There were pictures of him in baseball. And in basketball. Each one with a little smiley or heart or an underline.
“Keith Youngblood.”
“Really. Why?”
“Don’t you remember, he’s the hot guy?”
“Oh, I see. You mean you don’t want him?” Sandy joked.
“I’ll just have to do with you...”
“Oh, Jake... well, I appreciate that.” Sandy said, and Jake realized he’d said too much.
“Any luck on the diary?”
“No, I’ll stay up here another day and see what happens.”
“OK, see you soon, sport,” she said and hung up.
Jake spent a sleepless night lying in the fleabag hotel room that his cheap bosses had doled out for. He began to convince himself that this whole thing was a waste of time, and that these kids were just having some sort of summer fling. Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” came to mind in particular.
The next morning Jake faxed the yearbook pages back to Sandy and then headed out to the community college to talk to that chemistry professor. The weather had improved a bit, at least he could occasionally see a shadow, but still a damp chill reached into his bones, a chill he couldn’t shake. It had been a while since he’d been on a college campus, and the sheer number of young people was a little disconcerting to a man whose job is to blend in and be unnoticed.
Once Jake had a look at the classroom that was used for summer chemistry he realized that he was wasting his time; it must have held maybe 250 seats, and his follow-up interview with the prof yielded nothing. Frustrated, he made his way over to the central office to review records for any writing classes, but of course Jake didn’t know that the admissions and central office staff wouldn’t have known anything about that; he’d have to talk to the individual departments, so after getting the runaround all day Jake dejectedly decided to leave the campus. But he was hungry, so before returning to his car, he headed over to Luigi’s Pizza. It seemed popular and maybe he could grab a slice and a beer while he thought about his next move – which he did.
Inside was crowded with young students clustered here and there in small knots, plus a few blue collar workers, their shifts done for the day. Jake envied them the simple satisfaction of ending each day’s work at the same time, and turned back to his beer when a new group of about six young men and women came in and asked if he would mind so much moving to a smaller table so that they could use his. He was about to yell at them, but thought better of it when he looked at their smiling, eager faces. They thanked him and sat together, animatedly discussing something. Jake tried to tune them out but it was impossible. They were making a student film, apparently. That sounded interesting. Jake found himself glancing over their way, and noticed that they all had those composition books like Maria had for their journals. I suppose everyone has those , he thought to himself – they probably had a sale. But what made him almost spill his beer was when he
Jake dutifully returned that evening after the brown car was gone, but when he knocked and rang the doorbell there was no answer. He was about to leave when he noticed that something flat and bulky was lying under the doormat. He gingerly pulled it out and saw that it was a high school yearbook,the kind of book that kids get their picture in and then write stupid stuff about their friends. Jake looked around and, seeing no one, quickly returned to his car with the book under his coat.
That night, at the hotel, he gave Sandy a call and told her about the book.
“So, now you’ve got pictures and names of the friends?”
“That’s right,” he replied cockily. “Including a Kim. Hey, you’re gonna have to check out this Keith kid for yourself,” Jake said, looking at the handsome young man whose picture had been circled and had little notes written around it. There were pictures of him in football. There were pictures of him in baseball. And in basketball. Each one with a little smiley or heart or an underline.
“Keith Youngblood.”
“Really. Why?”
“Don’t you remember, he’s the hot guy?”
“Oh, I see. You mean you don’t want him?” Sandy joked.
“I’ll just have to do with you...”
“Oh, Jake... well, I appreciate that.” Sandy said, and Jake realized he’d said too much.
“Any luck on the diary?”
“No, I’ll stay up here another day and see what happens.”
“OK, see you soon, sport,” she said and hung up.
Jake spent a sleepless night lying in the fleabag hotel room that his cheap bosses had doled out for. He began to convince himself that this whole thing was a waste of time, and that these kids were just having some sort of summer fling. Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” came to mind in particular.
The next morning Jake faxed the yearbook pages back to Sandy and then headed out to the community college to talk to that chemistry professor. The weather had improved a bit, at least he could occasionally see a shadow, but still a damp chill reached into his bones, a chill he couldn’t shake. It had been a while since he’d been on a college campus, and the sheer number of young people was a little disconcerting to a man whose job is to blend in and be unnoticed.
Once Jake had a look at the classroom that was used for summer chemistry he realized that he was wasting his time; it must have held maybe 250 seats, and his follow-up interview with the prof yielded nothing. Frustrated, he made his way over to the central office to review records for any writing classes, but of course Jake didn’t know that the admissions and central office staff wouldn’t have known anything about that; he’d have to talk to the individual departments, so after getting the runaround all day Jake dejectedly decided to leave the campus. But he was hungry, so before returning to his car, he headed over to Luigi’s Pizza. It seemed popular and maybe he could grab a slice and a beer while he thought about his next move – which he did.
Inside was crowded with young students clustered here and there in small knots, plus a few blue collar workers, their shifts done for the day. Jake envied them the simple satisfaction of ending each day’s work at the same time, and turned back to his beer when a new group of about six young men and women came in and asked if he would mind so much moving to a smaller table so that they could use his. He was about to yell at them, but thought better of it when he looked at their smiling, eager faces. They thanked him and sat together, animatedly discussing something. Jake tried to tune them out but it was impossible. They were making a student film, apparently. That sounded interesting. Jake found himself glancing over their way, and noticed that they all had those composition books like Maria had for their journals. I suppose everyone has those , he thought to himself – they probably had a sale. But what made him almost spill his beer was when he
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