Rick Carter's First Big Adventure (Pete's Barbecue Book 1) Read Free

stumbled slightly on the‘s’s.  “I just do their public relations stuff.”  He looked back out the window where the street was going by.
          Rick was amused.  “Paranormal Research?  Seriously?”
          “Yeah.”  The man lightly chuckled.  “I know.  I know.”  He said.
          “Well, sounds interesting.”  Rick tried to keep the talk going.
          “Just a bunch of nut balls and kooks but really rich nut balls and kooks and they pay well.”  The man affirmed his smile wavering and then returning.  “You ever hear of Paul Blaylock?”
           “Isn’t he that guy on channel 168?  The one always going on about some conspiracy?”  Rick realized he knew more about this then he thought or might have wanted.
           “Yeah!”  The man’s waning attention snapped back.  “That’s the guy.  He’s the owner of the company.  They do all sorts of studies on paranormal stuff.”  He exaggerated the pronunciation of the last words in a mocking tone.  “They’re alright for the most part, although some of them are like Roswell out there.   He has teams of researcher all over the globe tracking down crazy junk.  Man, they sure do come up with some wild crap.  Most of it I wouldn’t give you two cents for, but there is this one guy, name’s Marcus or Mel or Major or something.  I can’t remember.  But, anyway, the stuff he comes back with sometimes has some legs to it.  I just got back from this one trip to LA where we were wrapping up some contracts with studio execs and I got to sit in on some of the dailies the production boys were piecing together for his show, and it was all about this guy and his theory about trans-reality something or the other and traveling through pockets in space.  He’s even got the science to back it up and claims to have pictures and documents.  I don’t know.  He’s about the only one of the crazies with anything interesting.”  The man lapsed into an awkward silence, and Rick checked the mirror again to see if he was okay.  He was just lazily staring out the window rocking to the gentle swaying of the big Crown Vic.
          “So, um are you from around Florida?”  He asked in an attempt to keep the failing conversation alive.
          The man looked forward again.  “Nah, I’m from Mississippi.  How about you?”
          Rick looked surprised.  “Funny you should mention it, but I’m from there too.  Well, that’s where I grew up anyways.”  He said lightly, pleased that they had found a common point of interest to discuss.
         “Really?”  The man once again produced his unsteady smile.  “Where from?”
         “A little ole place named William’s Landing, cotton capital of the world,”  Rick added with amusement.
         “I’ve heard of it.  I’m from the coast, near Gulfport.  Say, you been here in Florida long?”  The man’s interest kept his compromised attention span on the subject.
          “I’ve been here about twenty years now.  I moved down after my dad died.”  Rick volunteered.
            “Wow, you like it that much huh?  You been driving the cab that long?”  He asked. 
           It was Rick’s turn to lightly chuckle. “No, I can’t say I like it all that much.  I’ve been driving for about fifteen years, though.”
           “For someone who doesn’t like it all that much you sure been here a while.  You like driving the cab?”  The man steadied himself and hiccupped.
           “It pays the bills, you know?  I work for myself.  I contract the cab, and I set my own hours.  And I get to meet some interesting people.”  Rick’s mind flashed with a dozen images of past regrets in his cab but he tucked them back and pretended they didn’t exist.
          “Sounds like you got some freedom, guy.  I like that.  This corporate stuff has its moments but you’re always on their clock, you