directly. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said simply.
She pursed her lips. “Wow. I thought for sure you’d already have someone in your life . . .” She abruptly held her hand to her forehead. “Hold it. That came out wrong. I mean, not that you wouldn’t, but that if you don’t, that I wouldn’t be—”
“I don’t,” he said, hoping to end her embarrassment.
Her face was by now bright red. “Okay. Sorry. I’m not a stalker or anything.”
“I know.”
“I just—what with the bar being in Brattleboro, and what I said about your getting me to leave Gloucester—sort of—well . . . it just seemed stupid not to get in touch somehow.”
Now it was his turn to stand up and at least lean in her direction, since the bar was between them—the very safety barrier she’d once told him was a blessing for most barkeeps. “I’m glad you did, Lyn. It means a lot to me. Kind of a right time, right place thing, if you know what I mean.”
“Those aren’t too common, right?” she asked, taking a half step toward him.
“So they say.”
They stood there for a few seconds, seemingly frozen by in-decision, before he finally moved back, undraped his coat from the back of the adjacent stool, and said, “Well, I’ve got to get back north.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, leaving her post and heading back around the end of the bar to meet him. “Give your mom my best.”
He was close to the door, moving reluctantly, slipping his coat on. “I’m glad you came up when you did, when I was on the sidewalk.”
She reached him and laid her hand on his arm. “You’ve got a lot on your mind right now.”
He nodded silently, welling with emotion that he’d been suppressing for days.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be here.” She took his hand, removed a pen from her breast pocket, and wrote a phone number on his palm. “That’s my home. Call anytime. I mean it.”
He opened the door with his other hand, letting in a sharp sliver of cold air. “I will.”
He quickly leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek, and let himself out.
RadMan: so wut u do for fun
Suze: soccer and shop
RadMan: ur parents strict
Suze: there assholes
RadMan: oh why
Suze: cause they r
RadMan: i drive
Suze: i cant no licens
RadMan: so wut do u like to chat about - do u have any wishes
Suze: yeah i wish i had a car
RadMan: why
Suze: so i could drive ya
RadMan: well i got a car
Suze: can i have it
RadMan: only gfs can use my car
Suze: so what does that mean
RadMan: u really want my car
Suze: for real
RadMan: what do i get then
Chapter 9
“ O h, please. Parole and Probation? You have got to be shitting me.”
Sammie Martens sat back in her chair and studied the ceiling without response, well used to her colleague’s harangues, which, for him, passed for humor.
“Those guys are such cowboys. Not even cops, for Chrissakes.”
Willy Kunkle looked across the small office they all shared, to see what effect he might be having. “Run around like they own the place,” he added for good measure.
She didn’t move, refusing his bait despite the temptation he was clearly counting on.
“Not to mention there’s not a rule they don’t break.”
He saw her face crinkle in pain, as she absorbed this last crack. She straightened, put her elbows on her desk, and studied him as if he’d just emerged from a test tube. “What did you just say?” she asked, caving in at last.
He smiled at her innocently. “Not that I have a problem with any of that. When do we leave?”
She groaned and got to her feet. “Now.” She pointed at his withered left arm, an appendage he usually kept anchored to his side by shoving its hand into his pants pocket. “Why didn’t you join them after you lost that thing, instead of coming back to the cops?”
He rose, too, and joined her at the coatrack near the door. “You and I weren’t an item back then,” he explained. “I had to come back to irritate you.”
“And that’s changed now that we
“Yeah,” he said simply.
She pursed her lips. “Wow. I thought for sure you’d already have someone in your life . . .” She abruptly held her hand to her forehead. “Hold it. That came out wrong. I mean, not that you wouldn’t, but that if you don’t, that I wouldn’t be—”
“I don’t,” he said, hoping to end her embarrassment.
Her face was by now bright red. “Okay. Sorry. I’m not a stalker or anything.”
“I know.”
“I just—what with the bar being in Brattleboro, and what I said about your getting me to leave Gloucester—sort of—well . . . it just seemed stupid not to get in touch somehow.”
Now it was his turn to stand up and at least lean in her direction, since the bar was between them—the very safety barrier she’d once told him was a blessing for most barkeeps. “I’m glad you did, Lyn. It means a lot to me. Kind of a right time, right place thing, if you know what I mean.”
“Those aren’t too common, right?” she asked, taking a half step toward him.
“So they say.”
They stood there for a few seconds, seemingly frozen by in-decision, before he finally moved back, undraped his coat from the back of the adjacent stool, and said, “Well, I’ve got to get back north.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, leaving her post and heading back around the end of the bar to meet him. “Give your mom my best.”
He was close to the door, moving reluctantly, slipping his coat on. “I’m glad you came up when you did, when I was on the sidewalk.”
She reached him and laid her hand on his arm. “You’ve got a lot on your mind right now.”
He nodded silently, welling with emotion that he’d been suppressing for days.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be here.” She took his hand, removed a pen from her breast pocket, and wrote a phone number on his palm. “That’s my home. Call anytime. I mean it.”
He opened the door with his other hand, letting in a sharp sliver of cold air. “I will.”
He quickly leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek, and let himself out.
RadMan: so wut u do for fun
Suze: soccer and shop
RadMan: ur parents strict
Suze: there assholes
RadMan: oh why
Suze: cause they r
RadMan: i drive
Suze: i cant no licens
RadMan: so wut do u like to chat about - do u have any wishes
Suze: yeah i wish i had a car
RadMan: why
Suze: so i could drive ya
RadMan: well i got a car
Suze: can i have it
RadMan: only gfs can use my car
Suze: so what does that mean
RadMan: u really want my car
Suze: for real
RadMan: what do i get then
Chapter 9
“ O h, please. Parole and Probation? You have got to be shitting me.”
Sammie Martens sat back in her chair and studied the ceiling without response, well used to her colleague’s harangues, which, for him, passed for humor.
“Those guys are such cowboys. Not even cops, for Chrissakes.”
Willy Kunkle looked across the small office they all shared, to see what effect he might be having. “Run around like they own the place,” he added for good measure.
She didn’t move, refusing his bait despite the temptation he was clearly counting on.
“Not to mention there’s not a rule they don’t break.”
He saw her face crinkle in pain, as she absorbed this last crack. She straightened, put her elbows on her desk, and studied him as if he’d just emerged from a test tube. “What did you just say?” she asked, caving in at last.
He smiled at her innocently. “Not that I have a problem with any of that. When do we leave?”
She groaned and got to her feet. “Now.” She pointed at his withered left arm, an appendage he usually kept anchored to his side by shoving its hand into his pants pocket. “Why didn’t you join them after you lost that thing, instead of coming back to the cops?”
He rose, too, and joined her at the coatrack near the door. “You and I weren’t an item back then,” he explained. “I had to come back to irritate you.”
“And that’s changed now that we
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