Phoenix Read Free Page B

and stood facing the front windows, watching for the man. A few
of the customers inside gave him strange looks but moved on with
their business without causing trouble.
    "Mind telling me what the hell that was and
who the hell you are?" The pretty, naïve girl was showing her
claws. Brad ignored her. She shoved him. "Hey, I’m talking to you."
    He turned on her. "Just wait a second, okay?"
Brad looked back to the windows. It had been a couple minutes and
the man still hadn’t walked by. Maybe she was safe. He took a few
cautious steps forward and waited.
    No sign of him.
    "Alright, I think you’re safe," Brad turned
and said. He wiped his forehead and heaved a sigh. He’d been more
frightened than he thought.
    The girl shook her head and worked her
mouth.
    Brad raised his hands. "Yeah, okay, this is
crazy. But listen, that guy was going to hurt you." She sucked in a
breath to argue, but he continued. "He wanted to get you alone,
which he did , by the way. Are you crazy? Walking off like
that with some dude you don’t even know? Into a dark and empty
alley?" He shook his head and waved his hand. "No, don’t even
answer that. Just don’t do it again." The longer he talked, the
madder he got at this girl.
    By this time her irritation had faded. Her
eyes were wide and her cheeks had gone pale. "I… I don’t
understand. He— he was going to—"
    "Yeah. And the next time I may not be there
to save your ass." Brad started to leave. The fear on her face
stopped him. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that." He ran a hand through
his shaggy brown hair and studied her a moment. "Just keep an eye
out for him, and if you see him again, call the cops. Can you do
that?"
    Her nod came quick, she was fighting back
tears. "Yes."
    Brad pursed his lips and realized his hands
were on his hips. He probably looked like Mort. Just taller and not
as round. He dropped his hands and walked away. Before crossing the
threshold onto the sidewalk, he heard her say, "Thank you."
    He didn’t stop and didn’t look back. He
couldn’t; his nails were already drawing blood from his palms. He
woke up that morning intent on ending his life before the sun went
down. If he had, that girl would have been killed.
    That should tell you something , Lincoln .
    Brad snatched the cell and called Mort. He
hated driving and talking, but he’d never been much of a hands-free
kind of guy.
    "Come on, pick up," he said, after the third
ring. One more and the voicemail answered. "Hey, it’s me. Uh, I
don’t know where you are, but we need to talk. Shit, I’ll probably
be there before you get this message so never mind." Brad hung up
and tossed the phone into the passenger seat.
     
    * * *
     
    Brad pulled into Mort’s driveway half an hour
later. It should have taken longer and he thanked all that was holy
that his route had been clear of police cruisers. One more
infraction and he’d be hoofing it for six months.
    He glanced over the lawn as he walked up the
sidewalk. Mort’s yard was and always had been pristine. It reminded
Brad of the first time they met. Brad had grown up on this street,
and one summer after pulling a remarkably stupid stunt that
involved a slingshot, a trash can lid, his little sister, and their
ten-year-old Yorkie, he’d been sentenced to cutting the neighbors’
grass until school started in the fall. Once a week, Brad pushed
that mower back and forth across Mort’s yard, while Mort sat on the
porch and supervised.
    "Hey," Mort greeted now, having met Brad at
the front door. "Wasn’t expecting you."
    Brad said, "Sure you weren’t," and stepped
inside.
    "Come on in," Mort mumbled and closed the
door.
    The first thing Brad noticed was the smell.
Usually his friend’s home was filled with the scent of Clorox and
Pine Sol. Always on the hunt for dirt, he was. The furnishings were
more or less there to take up space. The couch was the only piece
to ever see an ass, and the carpet looked as new as it did twenty
years ago when it was first