Original Love. J.J. Murray
as thick as cat whiskers. She has tiny ears, tinier gold earrings, a button nose, and two eyes made out of green coal. I’ll bet that she bleaches her hair, because her roots are dark brown. Her eyes come to rest on the empty chair on the other side of Johnny. One of her eyebrows rises, her skinny pink lips wrinkle, and she moves in on my man…
I look at the clock on my laptop: 3:30 P.M.! I’ve been writing for close to ten hours without food. Checking the word counts, I find I’ve composed over five thousand words. I haven’t written like this since—
I’ve never written like this. Why is that?
The white walls envelop but don’t distract me, the quiet focuses me, though the Poet’s loud wanderings on the roof sometimes have me writing in blank verse, the sheer purity of the view of Great South Bay inspires me, and maybe even the lack of food makes me hungrier to write. I’m losing weight and loosing words. I’m a monk in his cell transcribing founts of prose in fonts of Courier and Times New Roman. I’m a…
I’m about all out of words for today.
I log on to AOL and quickly click on a reply from Destiny:
Peter:
Sorry if I was rude by leaving so suddenly this morning. I am always late for work.
How long are you going to be on Fire Island? Any plans to get up to Huntington?
Destiny
Which could mean that Destiny is in Huntington…or Ebony is in Huntington. I try Instant Message again and find that Destiny is still online.
I have to catch my breath. I reread the script of the conversation. How the hell did “Are you in Huntington?” turn into “You are trying to ask me out, right?”
This is getting weird. Destiny isn’t Ebony, yet she is the best lead I’ve had to finding Ebony after five years of searching. But has she told me everything she knows?
Ouch. But she’s right.
“It’s not a date!” I shout at the screen.
“Geez,” I whisper. What kind of a woman is this?
My pre-advance advance won’t cover a Huntington Bay Village ristorante. And at the rate coffee shops are extorting their patrons for a cup of double mocha capuccino, I may not have enough for a glass of ice water at Xando. My Visa is almost maxed out, but I have a Discover card I rarely use.
“It’s not a date!” I yell again.
I sit glued to the screen, my fingers sweating on the keyboard. I know Destiny knows more than she’s telling. Five minutes pass. Nothing. I check to see if she’s still online, but Destiny’s gone. I scroll through the conversation again and realize two things: I am being manipulated somehow, and Destiny is much better at this than I am. I may be in some serious trouble. And how am I going to escape Henry? And why did I set up a Saturday night meeting a long ferry ride and an hour’s drive away from here?
But as the setting sun outside my window softly slips into the western horizon, I relax and feel the pull of the past calling me back to Huntington.
Calling me home.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.