your
exception." He glanced at his watch. "But I have forty-five
bored students waiting to hear about comparative theology through the
ages. I have to go."
He sounded as if he regretted the
fact. She kind of did, too.
"Thanks for listening. I
appreciate your time," she said.
"I'm glad I ran
into you."
"Me, too."
They stared at
each other for a second, and then he was gone. Dani walked out the
other door and headed for her car.
That was good, she thought.
Meeting Gary had reminded her that all men weren't lying, cheating,
smarmy weasels. There were still some nice guys around.
* * *
REID FLIPPED through the fan letters in front of him. Some were
typed and sounded more like they were from forty-year-old truck
drivers than actual kids, but a few really got to him.
He kept
returning to the one from Frankie. A kid dying from some form of
cancer Reid couldn't begin to pronounce. The kid who had asked to
meet Reid as his last wish.
"Damn it all to hell,"
Reid muttered and picked up Gloria's phone. He punched in the number
the kid had written on his letter and leaned back in his chair.
A
woman answered. "Hello?"
"Hi. This is…"
Reid hesitated. The letter was three months old. Maybe he should wait
to say who he was. "Is Frankie there?"
"Oh,
God."
The woman's voice came out in a sob. Reid stiffened
as he heard what sounded like crying.
"Ah, ma'am?"
"I'm
sorry. It's just…" More crying. "He's gone. It's
been two weeks. Frankie died. I knew it was going to happen. It was
inevitable. We all knew it. So I expected to be sad, you know? But
why am I shocked? Why do I keep expecting to see him? To hear him? He
was just a little boy. So little and now he's all alone."
Reid
felt as if he'd taken a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball to the gut. The
air rushed out of his lungs and he couldn't speak. Probably a good
thing, because what was he supposed to say? That Frankie was in
heaven and hanging out with the angels? Who believed that after
losing a kid?
"I'm sorry," he managed at last. "I'm
really sorry."
"Thank you." The woman cleared
her throat. "I didn't mean to go off like that. I just can't
seem to get it together." She drew in a breath. "I didn't
get your name. Why are you calling?"
"It doesn't
matter," Reid said. "I won't bother you again."
He
hung up the phone and let the letter fall to the ground.
Two
weeks. Two fucking weeks. If he'd bothered to read his fan mail even
two weeks ago, he could have been there. Could have gone to see the
kid.
Not that his showing up would have made any difference,
but at least the kid wouldn't have thought his last wish didn't
matter.
He picked up another letter from a pissed kid,
basically telling him off for not bothering to show at some benefit.
There were dozens more like it.
Reid closed his eyes and did
his best to forget. He wasn't a bad man. Sure he had his flaws, but
he worked hard at his job and he didn't deliberately hurt anyone. At
least that's what he used to tell himself. Now he had no real job—
the sports bar didn't count— and it turns out he'd hurt a lot
of people.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID
and saw it was Seth— his so-called manager.
"What?"
he said by way of greeting.
"Turn on CNN. And brace
yourself."
Reid grabbed the remote and flipped to the
appropriate channel. There were two former centerfold twins being
interviewed.
"So this is a self-help book?" the
reporter asked, barely able to keep from staring at their matching
DDD boobs.
"Uh-huh," one of the blond twins said,
her voice high and lispy. The sound made Reid cringe. It also made
him remember a couple of nights in Cincinnati, a king-size bed and a
whole lot of room service.
"We've been in a lot of
relationships," the blonde continued.
"We've had a
lot of men," the other one said with a giggle.
"Right."
The first one smiled at the camera. "So we decided to share our
experiences with other women. You know, the ones who aren't as pretty
and sexy, who don't get out as much as we
exception." He glanced at his watch. "But I have forty-five
bored students waiting to hear about comparative theology through the
ages. I have to go."
He sounded as if he regretted the
fact. She kind of did, too.
"Thanks for listening. I
appreciate your time," she said.
"I'm glad I ran
into you."
"Me, too."
They stared at
each other for a second, and then he was gone. Dani walked out the
other door and headed for her car.
That was good, she thought.
Meeting Gary had reminded her that all men weren't lying, cheating,
smarmy weasels. There were still some nice guys around.
* * *
REID FLIPPED through the fan letters in front of him. Some were
typed and sounded more like they were from forty-year-old truck
drivers than actual kids, but a few really got to him.
He kept
returning to the one from Frankie. A kid dying from some form of
cancer Reid couldn't begin to pronounce. The kid who had asked to
meet Reid as his last wish.
"Damn it all to hell,"
Reid muttered and picked up Gloria's phone. He punched in the number
the kid had written on his letter and leaned back in his chair.
A
woman answered. "Hello?"
"Hi. This is…"
Reid hesitated. The letter was three months old. Maybe he should wait
to say who he was. "Is Frankie there?"
"Oh,
God."
The woman's voice came out in a sob. Reid stiffened
as he heard what sounded like crying.
"Ah, ma'am?"
"I'm
sorry. It's just…" More crying. "He's gone. It's
been two weeks. Frankie died. I knew it was going to happen. It was
inevitable. We all knew it. So I expected to be sad, you know? But
why am I shocked? Why do I keep expecting to see him? To hear him? He
was just a little boy. So little and now he's all alone."
Reid
felt as if he'd taken a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball to the gut. The
air rushed out of his lungs and he couldn't speak. Probably a good
thing, because what was he supposed to say? That Frankie was in
heaven and hanging out with the angels? Who believed that after
losing a kid?
"I'm sorry," he managed at last. "I'm
really sorry."
"Thank you." The woman cleared
her throat. "I didn't mean to go off like that. I just can't
seem to get it together." She drew in a breath. "I didn't
get your name. Why are you calling?"
"It doesn't
matter," Reid said. "I won't bother you again."
He
hung up the phone and let the letter fall to the ground.
Two
weeks. Two fucking weeks. If he'd bothered to read his fan mail even
two weeks ago, he could have been there. Could have gone to see the
kid.
Not that his showing up would have made any difference,
but at least the kid wouldn't have thought his last wish didn't
matter.
He picked up another letter from a pissed kid,
basically telling him off for not bothering to show at some benefit.
There were dozens more like it.
Reid closed his eyes and did
his best to forget. He wasn't a bad man. Sure he had his flaws, but
he worked hard at his job and he didn't deliberately hurt anyone. At
least that's what he used to tell himself. Now he had no real job—
the sports bar didn't count— and it turns out he'd hurt a lot
of people.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID
and saw it was Seth— his so-called manager.
"What?"
he said by way of greeting.
"Turn on CNN. And brace
yourself."
Reid grabbed the remote and flipped to the
appropriate channel. There were two former centerfold twins being
interviewed.
"So this is a self-help book?" the
reporter asked, barely able to keep from staring at their matching
DDD boobs.
"Uh-huh," one of the blond twins said,
her voice high and lispy. The sound made Reid cringe. It also made
him remember a couple of nights in Cincinnati, a king-size bed and a
whole lot of room service.
"We've been in a lot of
relationships," the blonde continued.
"We've had a
lot of men," the other one said with a giggle.
"Right."
The first one smiled at the camera. "So we decided to share our
experiences with other women. You know, the ones who aren't as pretty
and sexy, who don't get out as much as we
Similar Books
