The Maine Events, Rodney Riesel [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

Allen said. “Here's your money. Thanks.”

“Any time,” said Jacob. “Bye, Frankie.”

Frankie barked.

Jacob hurried down the walkway, and Allen pushed the doorclosed.

“Let's see what we have in these bags.” Allen pulled thecord on the drapes and the room lit up. He turned and stepped up to the end ofthe bed. He opened the first bag. “You like Alpo?” He rummaged through anotherbag and pulled out the Doritos. “I wonder if there's a can opener in one ofthose drawers? Coke, aspirins. Cheese?” He pulled out the brick of Colby cheeseand inspected it. “Huh, I must look like a cheese-eater. No crackers. Quart ofmilk, loaf of bread, six eggs, Oscar Mayer bologna, and some Jimmy Deanpre-cooked sausage patties. Should I make breakfast here, or should we walkdown the street?”

Frankie hurried to the door.

“Yeah, me too.”

Allen put his groceries in the cupboard and fridge, steppedinto his black and white checkerboard pattern Vans, and he and Frankie hit theroad.

It was exactly one mile from the Sunrise Motel to theOceanside Store, and Allen and Frankie walked the entire distance on the beach.Allen was a little lax in his rules along the way, letting Frankie chase a fewof the gulls. A couple times Allen grabbed a stick and gave it a throw. Frankieignored it both times. Chasing gulls was far more fun than chasing sticks.

They walked up the steps at the public beach house on LongSands Beach and crossed the street. Three people stood near the OceansideStore's order window, and three more were seated at one of the long blue picnictables. Those who were seated had their breakfasts in front of them and wereeating with plastic utensils out of Styrofoam containers.

“Nothing fancy here, boy,” Allen said. “Just our kind ofplace.”

Allen took Frankie's leash out of his pocket and clipped iton the dog's collar. He made eye contact with the other patrons to make sure hewasn't cutting ahead of anyone, and then stepped up to the window.

“What can I getcha?” said the woman inside.

“Do you have a menu?” Allen asked.

“Sure do.” The woman reached to her left and snatched up apaper menu and handed it to Allen.

“Thanks,” said Allen, stepping back away from the window.

He scanned the menu for a second and returned to the window.The woman was gone, but soon walked back over when she saw him.

“What can I getcha?”

“I'll have two eggs scrambled, home fries, bacon, and whitetoast, please. And can I get a side order of sausage?”

“Links, or patties?”

“Patties.”

She gave Allen the total; he paid and dropped the change shehanded him into the tip can.

“Okay, I'll call you up when it's ready.” She handed Allenhis receipt. “You're number fifty-six.”

Allen walked to the end of one of the picnic tables, satdown facing the water, and waited. Frankie sat down on the sidewalk next tohim. Soon, a man in a BMW pulled into a no-parking zone right in front ofAllen, blocking his ocean view. The gray-haired fifty-something left the carrunning and got out. He was wearing navy wind pants. Tufts of curly gray chesthair billowed like tumbleweeds from the neck and arm holes of his black tanktop.  He crossed the street and stepped up to the order window.

Allen looked down at his dog. “What did you say, Frankie?”he asked. “Should I move it?”

Frankie wasn't even looking at him.

“Okay, if you insist.”

Allen bent down and tied the end of Frankie's leash to theleg of the table. He stood, looked over his shoulder at Tank Top, and walkedacross the street. He opened the door of the BMW, climbed in, and shut thedoor. He put the car in reverse.

Tank Top spun around. “Hey!” he shouted. “That's my car!”

All heads outside the little store turned.

Allen backed the car up ten feet, put it in park, and gotout.

“What the hell do you think you're doing, pal?” Tank Topasked. He met Allen in the middle of the street.

“I was moving your car for you,” Allen replied calmly. “Youwere parked in a no-parking zone, and you were blocking my view.”

“View of what?”

“The ocean.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I sense that you're angry.”

“Damn right, I'm angry! How would you like it if I calledthe cops?”

“For what?”

“Moving my car.”

“Is moving a car illegal? Because I know parking in ano-parking zone is.”

Tank Top's face was growing redder. Allen hoped he didn'tstroke out like the guy at Stones Throw. How would he explain that to Rose andTucker? Two men down in two days. Everyone in town would start referring to himas the Grim Reaper.

“Calm down, Tank Top,” Allen said.

“What did you call me?”

“Tank Top. Would you rather I called you BMW guy, orTumbleweed Chest Hair Man? I'd call you by your name, but I don't know it.”

Tank Top looked over his shoulder at the curious onlookers,waiting on tenterhooks for the brawl they were sure was in the offing. Tank Topdidn't know what to do next. He looked back at Allen. “Just stay away from mycar,” he warned.

“You got yourself a deal,” said Allen, “as long as you don'tpark in no-parking zones anymore, unless they don't block my view of theocean.”

Allen held out his hand to shake, and gave Tank Top a big,friendly smile. He looked down at Allen's hand. He didn't shake, and instead ofreturning to the order window, he walked to his car and drove away.

Their excitement deflated; the lookie-loos returned theirattention to their breakfasts.

Allen returned to the picnic table, sat down, and gazed atthe ocean. After a few seconds he felt eyes boring into the side of his head.He looked over at the young redhead sitting down from him. She studied him asif he were a deep-sea cryptid that had just beached itself.

“What?” Allen asked.

“Nothing.” She continued to stare.

“It's not nice to stare.”

“Do you really think your dog told you to do that?” askedthe young woman.

“No,” Allen replied.

She grinned nervously. “That's good.”

“He told me to drive it over the seawall.”

The smile left her face. “Seriously?”

“No, dogs can't talk, sweetheart.”

“I know that.”

“I can read his mind.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Yes.”

“That's what I thought.”

Allen looked down at Frankie. “What's that, Frankie?”

“What did he say now?”

“He told