Ghost Key Read Free

kissing her passionately, then his fingers roamed across her throat and breasts and slid through her hair. Marion responded like a young woman of twenty, head thrown back, exposing her throat, where Bean planted his mouth and sucked at her skin like a mosquito.
    As Bean succumbed to whatever urge this was, his stool tipped back and he crashed to the floor and lay there, laughing. Marion got down on her hands and knees and leaned over him, kissing his cheeks, eyelids, nose, his mouth. His arms wrapped around her, their bodies pressed so closely together that his arms looked as if they were growing out of her back. Customers kept glancing at them; some laughed nervously, one of the locals called, “Hey, get a room, dude.”
    “Bean,” Kate said, feeling deeply disturbed.
    Her boss—her “older brother”—was making a fool of himself. She hurried over to see if she could distract him enough to get him outside and then get him home. He’d feel mortified in the morning, on top of being hungover.
    But before she reached them, Bean ripped open Marion’s blouse. The buttons popped off one after another, his hands slipped over her breasts as she reared back, her face seized with ecstasy, her eyes rolling back in their sockets. She unzipped his jeans and fell on him again, both of them now grunting, groping, moaning, rolling. Most of their clothes vanished with their decorum, his butt the color of a full moon, her pendulous breasts bouncing, dancing.
    It happened so fast that for an instant, Kate just stood there, gaping along with nearly everybody else in the bar.
    It was like watching a porn movie come to life.
    Bean thrust himself into Marion and they rolled across the sagging floor, faster and faster, crashing into tables and chairs. People shouted, scrambled out of their way, tried to get past them to the door. They were oblivious. Kate ran toward them, shouting at Bean to knock it off, and someone else hollered to call the cops. Bottles and glasses tumbled off the tables, shattered against the floor. Kate grabbed Bean’s shoulder, he shoved her away, and she stumbled back into the jukebox. The needle tore across the record, the old Wurlitzer went silent.
    In desperation, Kate picked up the pitcher of Skip and Go Naked and hurled what remained of it over Bean and Marion. She squealed, he yelped, they fell away from each other. Kate snatched her bag off the counter, ushered the last two customers, inebriated locals, out of the bar. She killed the lights and slammed the door. Let Bean clean up the place. Let him sweep up the glass, clean the grill, restock the shelves, load and run the dishwasher. Let him explain to the cops what the hell happened and what had come over him.
    All she wanted to be was out of there.
    No one was at the front desk, but some of the customers milled around the small lobby. As soon as they saw her, they crowded around her, demanding refunds for the drinks they hadn’t finished. Some of them twitched and jerked, just as Bean had, and had eyes like Bean’s, dark and shiny. She fled from them.
    “Talk to the management!” she yelled.
    If you can get him off the customers …
    As she burst from the hotel into the open air, she felt tears on her cheeks, tears of anger, confusion, and shock.
    What a nightmare …
    The chilly night air bit at her. She’d left her jacket in the bar, but wasn’t about to go back inside to get it. She wished she had ridden her bike or driven to work. It was a mile to the houseboat and the prospect of walking through the fog didn’t appeal to her in the least. But she heard the cop siren now and didn’t want to be here when the chief or one of his lackeys arrived. She loved Bean, and was sorry he’d fallen off the wagon, but she refused to run interference for him on this one.
    A tendril of fog slipped around her shoulders.
    “Leave me alone!” she shouted at it, and then stood in the street, feeling absurd. Yelling at fog? Throwing drinks on her boss? What