My Best Man by Andy Schell (top 10 novels TXT) 📕

third Amity and Jacqueline seem to agree that the secret is theirs, I push no farther. I take the joint, inhale a large hit, and watch world go by. In the front seat, the girls look great to Grace Kelly and an offbeat runway model motoring in a junk As the dope soaks into me, I have a creeping feeling

My belly is full and I’m driving around with two bad-assesses one of them capturing my heart. Life isn’t at all bad. I realize I’ve succeeded in being happy in my life with nothing and that means I’m entitled to something. And someone. And if the right guy isn’t going to be that someone, maybe I should open my eyes to the gift in front of me.

Only the lonely can play.

CHAPTER

NINE ….

pril comes, and on its first day, Marvin Gaye’s father him dead, and Amity takes to playing “Sexual Healing” the stereo for the rest of the month. My ex, Matthew, me to tell me he’s taken up with the boy next door, who, shamelessly tells me, is a haircutter[ Some twenty-one year who skipped college for hair-burning school is kissing Matthew”, beautifully educated lips, but I wasn’t good enough as a fli attendant? Oh, yeah, he tells me: “Derrick is from money.

St.

Louis banking family. And they don’t care that he’s gay.” That fucking Matthew. I knew it. It’s what he wanted all a free ride. A bank to pay off his student loans. One of the I was attracted to him was that he was from a middle-class and had to put himself through school and had chosen to toward a selfless career. Selfless my ass. He’d been waiting along for the day when I’d graduate from student takeout food haute cuisine and dump my VW for a BMW. And that’s why dumped me after the reading of the will . as soon as he wouldn’t have a dowry until I was a practicing heterosexual.

How could I be so stupid?

In his suit, at the BMW dealership, JT is tall, dynamic, and even sexier than when he’s wearing shorts and a tank top at the gym. I look into his green glacier eyes and tell him I’d like to take a test drive. “Listen,” he tells me, handing me the keys to a new black 325 with leather interior. “I’ve got an appointment with another customer in five minutes. Why don’t you take this baby out for a spin take your time. Maybe take it home and show it off to your… ? Anybody at home, Harry?”

“A girl,” I say. “She’s just a friend. Your situation’s a little different, huh?” I ask, motioning to his wedding ring.

“Nah,” he says, a roguish grin on his face, “just a girl.”

Black. Five speed. Leather interior. Killer stereo. Sunroof. I drive out of the lot and steer straight for home.

“Oh, my Gawd!” Amity screams, running out the back door. “Harry! I love it! Is it yours?”

“Hell, no. I’m just trying to get laid,” I laugh, yelling out the window.

“Life’s a game show, baby. Go for the fuck and the car.” “Get in,” I yell. “It’ll turn into a pumpkin if I don’t get it back soon.” I scroll back the sunroof, and through the opening I can see the campus water tower.

“A Beamer!” she whoops, running toward the car. She touches the hood, then falls onto it and hugs the car as if it’s her gigantic newborn child. She then pushes off and rushes to the driver’s window to peer in. “Wait,” she says. “I’m going to run in and twist one up.” She flies into the house to roll a joint. I check out the stereo, put the seats back, honk the horn. “I’m coming!” she screams through a window, answering my honks.

“I was just trying to hear what it sounds like,” I yell.

“No, I mean I’m coming.t” she pants, faking an orgasm. Then she climaxes like a porn star on Gatorade and slams the window shut. Two seconds later she flies out the back door, locks it, and

runs toward the car while sticking a freshly twisted joint her ear, the way a secretary stows a pencil. I hold the driver’s door open for her. “Me?”

‘“You don’t want to drive it?” I ask incredulously.

“Why not,” she squeals, jumping in. “Ahhh,” she sighs, “the smell of a new car makes little Virginia get all wiggly.” She en the cigarette lighter and fires up the joint. “So,” she says, grabbin the stick shift and putting it into reverse, “is the sales guy’s this big?”

“I haven’t found out yet. He’s married, you know.” “Married men are perfect, Harry. They’ll always buy you thin and the sex is great because those married guys never get any home.” She guns the car, pops the clutch, and jets off down street. “And it’s so easy to get out of those relationships if thin

“

go wrong.

“Is that so?” I laugh. “I was thinking about marrying Amity,” I tell her jokingly. “Does that mean I’ll have great with other guys?” ,

“Nobody gives it up better than Mrs. Harry Ford!” she wind flying in through the sunroof.

By the time we’re rolling down University Avenue, our route to the airport, past upper-middle-class homes designed to like Tara, with yards full of huge oak trees and feminine beds, we’re stoned out of our minds. The sun pours in through roof, Boy George sings “Karma Chameleon” on the radio, and smoke the joint down to the nub. God, Winston wouldn’t reco me. Neither would Matthew. Nor my mother. I’m probably than ever to the person they wish I would be. “We better get thing back,” I yell over the radio as we approach a four-way “I’ve had it for almost half an hour. Let’s roll down all the to get rid of the pot smell and be sure to toss the roach out.”

While I fumble with the window controls on the console, fishes the roach out of the ashtray.

Slam.t Boom.t We’re smashed