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

“Great! Some of the best stuff I've written in years!” Allenshouted back. He pointed at Frankie, who was doing his business—abundantly.“That's the dog's review. Critics!”

Tess laughed and went back inside.

Morning, Allen,” Tess called out.

Allen watched as Frankie ran around the yard smelling thetable legs and the Sunrise Motel sign and pissing in several spots to let thelocal dogs know this was now his motel.

“Come on, Frankie,” Allen said, and headed back toward theoffice.

“Hey, Crystal. Do you have a plastic grocery bag orsomething I can use to pick up Frankie's deposit? And a couple paper towels?”

Crystal was standing behind the desk opening a package ofball point pens and dropping them one at a time into a metal cup.

“I think I got something in here,” she replied, anddisappeared through a door behind her. When she returned to the desk, shehanded Allen a plastic grocery bag from Hannaford Supermarket and a wad ofpaper towels. “How's this?”

“Perfect.” Allen turned and held the bag out to Frankie. “Goclean that up, dog.”

Frankie looked from Allen to Crystal, and back to Allen.

Crystal snickered.

“Damn dog can't do a thing for himself,” Allen said. “Thanksfor the bag, Crystal.”

“I'm right next door if ya need anything else,” she said.

“Yep.”

Allen tiptoed across the wet grass and picked up the pilewith the towels. After dropping the bag in the garbage can, he and Frankie wentback upstairs.

Allen filled his mug and returned to the laptop. “Just giveme about an hour, Frankie.”

Frankie jumped up on the bed and got comfortable.

Allen read through his last hundred words, collected histhoughts, and started typing.

“There's no doubt, Frankie,” he announced, fingers flying,“I'm firing on all cylinders.”

*****

A little over an hour later, Allen hit save and checked hisword count. He picked up a pen, and on a notepad, beneath a column of dates andnumbers, he wrote 19,342 and the date. He closed his laptop.

“I'm starving,” he said. “How about you?”

He scooted the chair back, stood, and grabbed his room keyoff the table.

“Yes? No? Maybe?”

Frankie lifted his head.

“Come on.”

Allen opened the door and Frankie jumped off the bed.

Standing up after dropping the key under the doormat, helooked over the railing and saw Jacob and Oliver kicking a soccer ball aroundthe courtyard. Oliver started showing off—tilting his back and juggling theball by bouncing it off his forehead. Allen had to admit, the little twerp waspretty good.

“Hey!” Allen hollered.

Both boys spun around and looked up.

“Wait there!” Allen said.

The two boys looked at each other. Oliver said something andJacob shrugged.

Frankie was to the office door before Allen had even starteddown the stairs. He paced excitedly, wanting to get to the boys. He let out aloud yelp.

“Keep your pants on, dog,” said Allen. “I'm coming.”

Allen got to the door and tried to open it. Frankie bouncedoff the glass with his front paws.

“Would you calm down?” Allen growled. He nudged the dog outof the way with his knee and opened the door.

Frankie shot through the door, almost knocking Allen down.When the dog got to the boys, he leapt into the air. Jacob jumped out of theway just before Frankie collided with him.

Jacob laughed. “I wish everyone was this excited to see me,”said Jacob. He got down on his knees and scratched both sides of Frankie'shead. “Who's a good boy? Frankie's a good boy.” He put his face closer to thedog and let Frankie lick his nose.

“He was just licking his own butt upstairs,” Allen informedthe boy.

Oliver laughed. “Hey, Frankie,” he said, and patted the dogon his back.

“What's going on, guys?” Allen asked.

The boys looked at each other.

“Nothing,” Oliver said.

“Yeah, nothing,” Jacob agreed.

“Where ya headed?”

“Nowhere,” Oliver replied.

“Yeah, nowhere,” said Jacob.

“Okay,” Allen said. “I was wondering if you wanted to hangout with Frankie tonight and Saturday night?”

“Why?” Jacob asked. “Where are you going?”

“I have a date tonight, and then I have to go somewhereSaturday night.”

“Is your date with that lady from the restaurant?” Jacobasked.

“How'd you know she worked at a restaurant?” Allen asked.

“Um, I guess you told me, or my mom did.”

“Yeah, it's her.”

“How late are you going to be?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you spending the night at her house?” Jacob said.

Oliver laughed. “Yeah, are you guys gonna do it?”

Allen snorted. “What the hell's wrong with you two?”

“My dad said he dropped me on my head a lot when I was ababy,” Oliver replied.

“I believe it,” said Allen. “Can you watch the dog, or not?”

“Yeah, I can watch him,” Jacob said.

“Not Saturday,” said Oliver. He shot Jacob a conspiratoriallook.

“Oh, yeah,” Jacob remembered, “I can't watch him Saturdaynight.”

“Why? What are the two of you up to tomorrow night?”

“Nothing,” said Oliver. “Just hangin' out.”

“I'm spending the night at his house Friday and Saturday,”said Jacob.

“Oh, okay,” Allen said. “Maybe I'll just bring him with me.”

“What time tonight?” Jacob asked.

“She's picking me up at six.”

“She's driving?” asked Oliver.

“Yeah. Why?”

“The guy usually drives,” said Jacob.

“Is she paying for the date too?” Oliver asked.

“No,” Allen shot back. “I'm paying for the date.” Heimmediately wondered why he was defending himself to two twelve-year-old boys.

“It's more like she's taking you out on a date,” Oliverribbed.

“How about if I kick both of your asses?” Allen asked.

Jacob chuckled. “Let's get out of here before he tells hisgirlfriend to beat us up.”

Jacob gave Frankie one last pat, and the two boys took off.

“Six o'clock!” Allen shouted.

“What's at six?” Jacob hollered back.

“My date!”

“You mean, her date!” Oliver yelled.

The two boys laughed and high-fived as they ran down LongSands Road.

“Wise-asses,” Allen grumbled. He looked down at Frankie.“Why didn't you bite them when they were picking on me, dog? I should make youpay for breakfast.” He bent down and clipped the leash on Frankie's collar.“Come on. Let's get something to eat.”

Man and dog crossed the street, hopped the curb, and walkedalong the seawall. They only made it about a quarter of a mile when SergeantRose's cruiser crossed the center line and came to a stop against the curb,facing the wrong direction. Rose's door swung open, and he climbed out. Heleaned against the front fender, folded his arms over his chest, and waited forAllen to reach him.

“Morning, Rose,” Allen said.

“Morning,