The Maine Events by Rodney Riesel (most important books of all time txt) 📕

can get out here and see the sun come up.”

The two friends crossed the street, hopped the curb, andstood atop the seawall. It was Monday morning, and the seawall construction wasonce again underway. It was around ten minutes until low tide. The water wasnow about a hundred yards from the base of the seawall. Allen sat down, andFrankie plopped down next to him. A robin landed five feet from Frankie andpecked at a dried up worm. The dog looked at the bird, and then back at thewater.

“Good boy,” said Allen. “How cold ya think that water is?”

Allen sipped his coffee and placed the mug on the concretenext to him. He glanced over at the construction workers. There was a manoperating the backhoe and three men setting forms. One guy was looking througha transit at a story pole held by another man. Based on his obscenity-lacedshouts and impatient pointing, Allen judged the man with one hand set cockilyon his hip to be the boss. They all wore orange vests and hard hats. Thesawhorses remained in the same place, but the yellow plastic tape had been removedto allow the workers to enter and exit the worksite.

“I wonder if they have bouncy balls at Cumberland Farms?”Allen put his arm around his dog's neck. “I forgot all your toys.”

Frankie turned his head and licked the side of Allen's face.

“Jesus, dog! Did you eat a shit sandwich for breakfast?”Allen wiped the saliva from his face. “Crap, I didn't tell Jacob to get you anydog food. Looks like it'll be water and Doritos for breakfast.”

Allen downed the rest of his coffee and stood. “Come on.” Hewalked down the steps and navigated his way across the rocks trying his bestnot to twist an ankle. When he reached the sand, he bent down to pick up thestick he'd spotted from the seawall.

“If I throw this stick, and you don't go get it, I'm notthrowing it again. Ya got me?”

Allen heaved the stick as hard as he could, and Frankie tookoff after it.

“Get that stick!” Allen shouted.

Frankie clamped his jaws onto the stick and ran back toAllen, dropping it at his feet.

“What a good boy.”

Allen threw the stick another ten or twelve times beforeFrankie finally tired of the game. The last time he threw it, Frankie didn'tbudge.

“All done?”

Frankie glared at the stick.

“I'll take that as a yes. Come on.” Allen turned back towardthe seawall. “You as hungry as I am? Maybe I better jump in the shower and thenwe'll take a walk down to that little store and grab some breakfast.”

The way Frankie took off for the motel was a sure sign hewas ready for breakfast.

Crystal was standing next to the soda machine when Frankie andAllen returned to the motel. She was smoking a cigarette and chatting with theguy who was emptying the money and reloading the soda.

“No raise in three years,” said Crystal.

“Uh-huh,” the guy replied.

“The guy down to the Sea Latch Inn asked me to come work forhim.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have half a mind to do just that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don't need this job.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Morning again, Crystal,” Allen said.

“Morning, Allen. This is Dillman Weed. He works for Coke.”

“Hey, Dillman.”

 “Folks call me Dill.”

“You got it, Dill.” Allen continued to the door.

“Oh, and Allen?”

“Yeah, Crystal?”

“One thing I forgot to mention …”

“What's that?”

“Those guys from this morning … they said they'd be backaround later today.”

“Ya don't say?”

“Yeah, they said they were on their way to visit a friend inthe hospital, and then they'd be back.”

“Thanks, Crystal.”

“They also said they expected me to be a lot more friendlyand cooperative the next time they saw me.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I said, 'Fat chance.'”

Allen chuckled. Frankie bolted through the door the secondAllen opened it. Allen followed the black and white blur up the stairs at amore leisurely pace.

“Hear that, Frankie?” Allen asked his pal. He unlocked hisdoor and the two of them went inside. “I bet they're big fans, and just want anautograph.”

Chapter Four

“Yeah?” Allen hollered. He buttoned his shorts and grabbedhis T-shirt off the bed.

Frankie let out a loud bark.

Allen side-stepped closer to where his gun lay squeezedbetween the mattress and box springs.

“It's Jacob!”

“Hold on.”

Allen pulled the T-shirt over his head and walked to thedoor.

Jacob held up the four bags, two in each hand, as Allenpulled open the door.

“You owe me twenty-eight dollars,” said Jacob.

“For what?”

“We bought Frankie a few cans of dog food, treats, and aball. We also got you some milk.”

“That was twenty-eight bucks?”

“There's some other stuff my mom thought you might need ifyou were going to be here for two weeks.”

“How did she know I was going to be here for two weeks?”

Jacob shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe Crystal told her.”

Allen nodded. “Maybe. Is it just the three of you downthere?”

“Three of us?”

“You, your mom, and the baby.”

“No, my dad's here too. He's usually at work though.”

“Do the four of you live here in the motel?”

“No, we live in Manchester Center—that's in Vermont.”

“But your dad works here?”

“Just for the summer.” Jacob turned and pointed at theconstruction across the street. “He works for those guys. Sometimes he'sworking there, but sometimes he works on other jobs. All depends on where theyneed him.”

“And you guys came up to see him?”

“Yeah. He's been here since June. We just came up a coupleof weeks ago.”

“How long are you staying?”

“We're going home the end of September. My dad is stayinguntil November.”

“I see.” Allen turned and put the bags on the bed. “Let meget you that money.” He walked to the nightstand and picked up his money clip.“What was that you and your buddy were looking at yesterday? If you don't mindme asking.”

“We weren't looking at anything.”

“Sure you were. It was a piece of paper you didn't want meto see.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Allen locked eyes with the young boy. “No?”

“Nope.”

There was no twitch in Jacob's eye, and he didn't look away.Allen continued to stare into the boy's green eyes as he walked toward him withthe cash. The only sign that Jacob was lying was the effort he put into notblinking.

“Okay,”