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

The woman leaned back and looked down at Frankie. “Thankyou, Frankie,” she said.

Frankie barked.

“He said you're welcome,” Allen informed her.

“Number fifty-six!” the woman at the window shouted.

Allen glanced down at his ticket. “Hey, that's my numbertoo.”

The red head chuckled.

Chapter Five

“What'er ya smokin' there?” asked Cam Owens.

Not what I wish I was smoking, Allen thought.

Allen was seated at one of the picnic tables out front ofhis motel. He looked over to see Cam crossing the grass. The old man wascarrying two cans of Bud Light, one in each hand.

Allen took a long drag on the cigar and blew the smoke intothe air. “This here is an Isla del Sol Toro,” he said. “And if you smokecigars, this is your lucky day, because I brought an extra one down with me.”

“I do smoke cigars,” Cam replied. “What're ya drinkin'?”

“This is just a Coke.”

“I brought you a beer.”

“And now I'm drinking a beer.”

Cam sat down on the same side of the picnic table as Allen,facing away from the table. He set one beer on the table, and popped the top ofthe other. “Hep yerself.”

“Thanks. You help yourself as well. Cigar, lighter, andcutter are right there on the table.”

Cam groaned and his back cracked when he turned around onthe bench to grab the cigar behind him. “Where's the pup this evening?” heinquired.

“Lying on the bed watching TV,” Allen replied.

Cam snipped off the tip of his cigar, put it between histeeth, and lit the lighter. He sucked in a mouthful of smoke and let it outslowly through his mouth and nose. When all the smoke had escaped he said,“Nice stogie.”

“Yes, they are.”

Allen popped the top of the other beer and took a sip.

“Gettin' any writin' done?” Cam asked. “I only ask 'causeMildred told me to.”

“Not a bit, but you can tell Mildred I was banging away onthat keyboard all morning if you like.”

“I'll do that. Listen, I didn't know about your wife when Iasked earlier. Mildred told me when I got back to the room.”

Allen nodded.

“She reads all the tabloids,” said Cam, “and watches that EntertainmentTonight quite a bit, so she knows what goes on with all the celebrities.”

Allen grinned. “Celebrity, huh?”

“Hey, to Mildred you're the cat's ass. She's got a couple ofyour books with her. Wanted me to ask if you'd sign them.”

“Of course,” said Allen. “Believe it or not, Cam, I've neverbeen called the cat's ass before.”

“Well, now ya have.”

“Why didn't Mildred walk over with you?”

“She's watching her stories. Don't matter where we are inthis great nation, when her stories come on, Mildred drops everything and plopsdown in front of the telly.”

“I'm guessing that's usually when you fly the coop.”

“Oh, yeah. If I don't, she sits there the entire time givin'me the play-by-play. I tell her, 'Mildred, I don't give a yak's b-hole what Hope,Roman, Curly, Larry, or Moe is up to.' But, she don't stop. I alwaystold her she'd make a great ball game announcer.”

The tide had started its journey inward, but not far enoughto reach the seawall. Allen was already halfway through his beer. He thoughtabout the bottle of tequila in his room. He hoped Cam would make the trek backto his hotel to get them another beer, but that was too much to expect.

Just then a shiny, black Lincoln Continental pulled into theparking lot from the north and came to a stop with the driver's side tires onthe grass. The tinted window lowered. The driver had long, greasy black hair,combed back tightly to his head. Allen knew right away what it was about.

The front doors opened, and two men climbed out of the frontseat. The man who came out of the passenger side was Allen's bald little friendfrom the Stones Throw's restroom.

Vinny Tubbs was dressed in black slacks, black loafers, anda black turtleneck. He looked like Johnny Cash, if Johnny Cash was a member ofa New Jersey crime family, shaved his head, and got down on his knees. Thedriver was wearing a dark gray suit. His jacket was unbuttoned. They shut thedoors and walked across the grass. The bald guy stepped in a pile of dog shit.

“My bad,” Allen called out. “I forget to pick that up. Ididn't have a bag with me and I—”

“Shut up,” said the driver.

“Who the hell are these turds?” Cam whispered.

“Maybe you should take off, Cam,” Allen whispered back.

“I'll stay right where I am, thank you.” He placed his beer canon the table behind him.

Vinny wiped his foot on the grass and moved along. “Freakin'dogs,” he grumbled.

“How are you gentlemen this afternoon?” Allen asked. “You'rejust in time. The tides coming in, and when the waves crash against the—”

“This is the last time I'm going to tell you to shut up,”said Driver.

“You're probably right about that,” said Allen. “What can Ido for you gentlemen?”

“We'd like you to come with us,” said Driver. “Mr. Strongwould like to speak with you.”

“Mr. Strong? Is he the guy that stroked out?” Allen asked,knowing full well it wasn't.

“Yeah.” said Vinny. “I mean—”

“No,” said Driver.

“Which is it?” Allen asked.

“He's Mr. Strong's brother,” said Vinny.

“I'm confused. The guy at the restaurant is Mr. Strong'sbrother?”

“Yes,” said Driver.

“If they're brothers, wouldn't they both be Mr. Strong?”Allen asked.

Vinny looked at the driver. “Would they?”

“No, you idiot,” Driver shot back. “They're half-brothers.”

“That's right,” said Vinny. “He's confusing me too.”

“You boys gotta get your stories straight,” said Cam. “Youshould've started with—”

“Shut up, old man,” said Driver. He looked back at Allen.“Get up.”

“What if I don't want to?”

“Get up.”

“I think I'll stay right where I am.”

“Listen, mister,” Vinny said, “it'll go a lot better for youif you do what he says.”

Driver stepped forward and squared off. He opened his jacketjust enough for Cam and Allen to see the 9mm strapped to his hip.

“I'm s-scared,” said Cam, his voice suddenly reedy anddesperate. “I'm just a decrepit old man.”

“Calm down,” said Vinny. “No one's going to hurt you if yourfriend just does what he's told.”

Cam's left hand went to his chest. “My heart …” He slumpedforward. His right hand