Nocturnal Read Free

Granite Bay. I imagined the wives scowling at her eye-catching appearance; the husbands being held on a tight leash.
    When I reached her stand, she’d just bent over to adjust a wonky table leg, her ass straining against the fabric of her figure-hugging dress.
    “You need a hand?” I asked.
    She stood up and set her hands on her hips. She was a similar age to the other moms, maybe early thirties, but there was barely a line on her. Only a light brush of make-up to accentuate her high cheekbones, a wide, perfectly balanced mouth, and dark blue eyes that hinted at a full bag of tricks. For a moment I must’ve forgotten to breathe, because I suddenly found myself gulping for air, playing catch-up with my heartbeat.
    Her expression remained cool – either my goldfish impersonation wasn’t as bad as I imagined, or she was used to men losing oxygen in her presence. “You can help by sampling my chili,” she said. “I made three whole gallons, and I’ve only had two customers so far.”
    “Okay. I’ll have a taste.”
    “Good. It’s white bean chicken, and it’s really good.”
    She ladled a portion into a Styrofoam cup and handed it to me. The sun beat down on my neck as I slurped the chili with a plastic spoon. “It is good,” I confirmed, relieved I didn’t have to lie. “Really good.”
    “Thank you,” she said, her eyes fixed on the cup. Clearly I was expected to finish in her presence. Sweat marched through my temples as I continued eating.
    “Are you from the local paper?” she asked.
    I shook my head. “The Tribune.”
    “Oh, a real city newspaper.”
    There was an exaggerated tone to her voice, and I guessed she was mocking me, through I couldn’t be certain. “People get bored with state politics,” I explained. “They like fluffy stories, too.”
    “Well, I’m honored the Tribune sent such a senior reporter to cover our little event.”
    I glared at her, unable to hide my resentment. She was mocking me, all right. Passing judgment on my three-hundred-buck suit and shit-kicking assignment. But maybe she already sensed I couldn’t pry myself away if I tried. “Everyone has to pay their dues,” I mumbled.
    She reached out and touched my forearm, her features softening. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I can be such a bitch sometimes. It’s these people, you know? They put me on the defensive.”
    “Why?”
    “Isn’t it obvious? They can’t stand me.” She nodded at the neighboring table where a homely woman in a peasant blouse was collecting used cups from two sets of couples. One of the women glanced over at us and scowled. The couples then walked off, boycotting the last table in the line-up.
    “I see what you mean,” I said. “But hey, you should be flattered. They’re obviously jealous.”
    “Jealous of what?” she asked playfully, fishing for the tacky compliment. Seeing if I was stupid enough.
    But I wasn’t about to bite. “Of your delicious chili, obviously.”
    She shot me a reproachful ‘Oh, you!’ look and took the empty cup from my hand, her fingers brushing my knuckles. “I think someone just earned seconds.”
    Another full helping of chili was the last thing I needed, but I accepted anyway, grateful for an excuse to linger.
    She studied my perspiring face as I worked through a second tongue-roasting cup, her lips twisting to the side. “ That’s who you remind me of,” she said decisively. “Johnny Roberts. He was my first real boyfriend, back in tenth grade.” She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not related, are you?”
    “Nope.”
    “I thought you might’ve been a younger brother or something. My God, Johnny Roberts. I haven’t thought about him in years.”
    “Good memories, I hope.”
    She laughed. “Bad ones, I’m afraid. Johnny was a sweetheart and a heartbreaker, all wrapped up in one. We’d been going out two months when he dumped me for our English teacher. Can you believe that? It was the biggest scandal our town had ever seen. I couldn’t