A Second Chance in Paradise Read Free

burnt it and went on, “Let me tell you something, my heartless friend ... you’re the reason we’re making crap ... you and Searcy’s!” 
    “ Raines,” Halstead snapped, “I want you in my office right after this meeting. And if you hope to stay here for the remainder of it, just sit there and be quiet!  Do not interrupt me again!  We don’t need any more of your negative outbursts.” 
    With that, the room filled with excited whispers. Most of the salespeople seemed to be loving all this early morning action.              
    “ No! I don’t think so, Halstead!” I shot back now. “I’m not shutting up this time. And you know what, FREAK your office. Why don’t you just come over here and kiss my ass instead? After all, that’s the kind of thing you’re good at. And let me tell you something else before you get some sick satisfaction out of firing me ... I QUIT!  I’M OUT OUTTA HERE!  Working in this place is like ... like mental masturbation. It’s a freaking joke, a bad joke.”
     
    With all that finally off my chest after keeping it inside for so long, I barged right the hell out of that kangaroo court. Fighting with myself as I stormed across the showroom toward the front exit, I somehow managed not to turn around. I really wanted to bust right back into that conference room and give Halstead more than words to remember me by. But I didn’t.
    Pushing through both glass doors at once, I bowed my head right into an onslaught of wind-driven snow. It was heavy now. The flakes were the size of nickels and plenty damp. Two inches of the thick white stuff had already accumulated on the ground, and the best I could do was to slowly shuffle my way across the slippery lot. When I finally made it to my van, I cranked her up and turned on the heater. Immediately it blew warm air. I hadn’t been inside Searcy’s Furniture World for very long.
    I forged toward home as quickly as I safely could. Steering stiffly, driving ever so carefully through the deepening snow, my only thoughts were of Wendy. Over and over I rehearsed how I was going to break the news to her. Once I said aloud, “Should I tell her I got fired or tell her the truth?”  But I knew damn well what I’d do. I couldn’t lie to her. I never had before. I’d have to fess up. I may have had my fair share of shortcomings but dishonesty wasn’t one of them.
    A half hour after leaving the store I turned right onto New Bridge Street. Like all the rest of Long Island, my neighborhood was now blanched white with clean, fresh snow. Slowly, I motored up the residential street until I was about a half block away from my house. Then I noticed something odd. A gold car, it looked like a Lexus, was pulling away from the curb near my house. It seemed to be right in front of it. Next to nobody on the block ever parked in the street. All the houses had their own driveways. Moments later, I slowed to a stop before pulling into my driveway. Sure enough, alongside the curb was a perfectly dry, dark asphalt rectangle where the Lexus had been parked.
    Who the hell could that have been?   I wondered, the fresh snow mashing beneath my wheels as I rolled into the driveway.
    I killed the ignition, climbed out and closed the door ever so gently. Then I trudged through the five inches of white stuff to where the car had been parked. With a cold mist now escaping my nostrils with every quickening breath, I noticed there were footprints on the front yard. About the same size as my own, just one set, they were fresh as can be – and those tracks led from the front door to exactly where I was standing at the curb. Whoever had been inside the house had been there a while.
     
    With my mind whizzing around in all different directions, I made my way across the small front yard to door, carefully avoiding the footprints as if they were HIV-positive. I climbed the three steps, entered the house and closed the door firmly – making sure the act was audible.