you?”
“Just shake my damned hand, will you, old man?”
The two of them shook hands.
Des asked the Jewett girls if Winston was okay to go home now.
“He’s fine,” Marge said.
“I’ll take it from here,” Mitch said, starting toward him.
“Anything else we can do for you, Trooper Mitry?” Tyrone asked.
“Yes, there is.” Des glanced at her watch. “While we were standing here having all of this fun, the clock just ran out. Pull the plug for me, will you? This party is history.”
C HAPTER 6
T HE OLD COOT BOLTED on him just as they were about to climb into Mitch’s pickup. Took off across the lawn and went crashing into the woods that separated the Grantham place from the Joshua estate.
“Winston, where are you going?” Mitch cried out as he sprinted after him.
“Home!” hollered Winston, who could scoot along pretty fast for someone in his bedroom slippers. Especially considering that Clarence had just gone Tarantino on him. “Lila gets all weepy if I stay out too late. She was some kind of beauty in her day. But who wants an old broad when there’s so many young ones and so little time. Know what I mean?”
“Not really, but that’s okay.” Mitch caught up with him, grabbing him by the arm. “You can’t get home this way. They put up a chain-link fence, remember?”
“Of course I remember. How do you think I got here?” Winston yanked his arm free, feinted left and went right, speeding past Mitch. He had wicked playground moves. Possibly, a leash was in order. “Boy, that was some party,” he cackled gleefully from the wooded darkness. “Why, there were more bare-assed colored girls—”
“Women of color.”
“In the same place at the same time than I can shake my stick at.”
Mitch groped his way along in the moonlit darkness, avoiding the trees and boulders as best he could. “Are you feeling okay, Winston?”
“Never better,” replied Winston, who seemed to know exactly where he was heading. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you just got punched in the mouth.”
“Dear, sweet Asia. I must come back and see her in the morning.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“But we bonded. I felt a connection.”
“Your teeth bonded with her ass. I’d hardly call that a connection.”
“Shows how much you know. Women cherish a man who isn’t afraid to show his feelings. My God, there is something so intoxicating about tender young flesh. Nothing else like it on God’s green earth. He knows that.”
“Who does, God?”
“ God ? Who’s talking about God ? I meant my good buddy. We’re a lot alike, you know. Have very similar tastes.”
Mitch let that one slide on by. He wasn’t sure if imaginary playmates were part of Winston’s illness or not. He only knew that the old guy was starting to drive him loco. “Winston, we’d better go back to my truck now.”
“What for?”
“Because we’re lost in the woods in the dark.”
“Are not.” Winston came to a halt, breathing heavily. “There’s the big boulder, see?”
Mitch could barely make out a huge boulder looming before them. The eight-foot chain-link fence was just beyond it. “So?…”
“So that’s where the hole is.” Winston felt around for a moment. Then, with a cry of delight, he got down on his hands and knees and scurried through the fence like a little boy. “Are you coming?”
Mitch knelt there and discovered that a three-foot-square section of the fence had been neatly cut away. “Did you make this hole?” he asked as he followed Winston through it.
“Not me,” Winston replied.
“How long has it been here?”
“Wouldn’t know. I just found it yesterday.”
Mitch pondered this. The street outside of Tyrone Grantham’s house was swarming with photographers—any one of whom could fetch major bucks for candid shots of him relaxing poolside with Jamella. Or, better yet, with some hot, topless babe who wasn’t Jamella. Would one of those
“Just shake my damned hand, will you, old man?”
The two of them shook hands.
Des asked the Jewett girls if Winston was okay to go home now.
“He’s fine,” Marge said.
“I’ll take it from here,” Mitch said, starting toward him.
“Anything else we can do for you, Trooper Mitry?” Tyrone asked.
“Yes, there is.” Des glanced at her watch. “While we were standing here having all of this fun, the clock just ran out. Pull the plug for me, will you? This party is history.”
C HAPTER 6
T HE OLD COOT BOLTED on him just as they were about to climb into Mitch’s pickup. Took off across the lawn and went crashing into the woods that separated the Grantham place from the Joshua estate.
“Winston, where are you going?” Mitch cried out as he sprinted after him.
“Home!” hollered Winston, who could scoot along pretty fast for someone in his bedroom slippers. Especially considering that Clarence had just gone Tarantino on him. “Lila gets all weepy if I stay out too late. She was some kind of beauty in her day. But who wants an old broad when there’s so many young ones and so little time. Know what I mean?”
“Not really, but that’s okay.” Mitch caught up with him, grabbing him by the arm. “You can’t get home this way. They put up a chain-link fence, remember?”
“Of course I remember. How do you think I got here?” Winston yanked his arm free, feinted left and went right, speeding past Mitch. He had wicked playground moves. Possibly, a leash was in order. “Boy, that was some party,” he cackled gleefully from the wooded darkness. “Why, there were more bare-assed colored girls—”
“Women of color.”
“In the same place at the same time than I can shake my stick at.”
Mitch groped his way along in the moonlit darkness, avoiding the trees and boulders as best he could. “Are you feeling okay, Winston?”
“Never better,” replied Winston, who seemed to know exactly where he was heading. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you just got punched in the mouth.”
“Dear, sweet Asia. I must come back and see her in the morning.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“But we bonded. I felt a connection.”
“Your teeth bonded with her ass. I’d hardly call that a connection.”
“Shows how much you know. Women cherish a man who isn’t afraid to show his feelings. My God, there is something so intoxicating about tender young flesh. Nothing else like it on God’s green earth. He knows that.”
“Who does, God?”
“ God ? Who’s talking about God ? I meant my good buddy. We’re a lot alike, you know. Have very similar tastes.”
Mitch let that one slide on by. He wasn’t sure if imaginary playmates were part of Winston’s illness or not. He only knew that the old guy was starting to drive him loco. “Winston, we’d better go back to my truck now.”
“What for?”
“Because we’re lost in the woods in the dark.”
“Are not.” Winston came to a halt, breathing heavily. “There’s the big boulder, see?”
Mitch could barely make out a huge boulder looming before them. The eight-foot chain-link fence was just beyond it. “So?…”
“So that’s where the hole is.” Winston felt around for a moment. Then, with a cry of delight, he got down on his hands and knees and scurried through the fence like a little boy. “Are you coming?”
Mitch knelt there and discovered that a three-foot-square section of the fence had been neatly cut away. “Did you make this hole?” he asked as he followed Winston through it.
“Not me,” Winston replied.
“How long has it been here?”
“Wouldn’t know. I just found it yesterday.”
Mitch pondered this. The street outside of Tyrone Grantham’s house was swarming with photographers—any one of whom could fetch major bucks for candid shots of him relaxing poolside with Jamella. Or, better yet, with some hot, topless babe who wasn’t Jamella. Would one of those
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