Daddy's Money by Chin Alan

Author:Chin Alan [Alan, Chin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9781623802332
Google: wiPegnNFjXgC
Amazon: 1623802326
Barnesnoble: 1623802326
Goodreads: 16139481
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

BLAKE stood at the island in his kitchen holding an icepack to his eyes, while sipping a fresh Scotch.

He stared out the window with his good eye, deep in thought.

Pearl busied herself at the sink, pealing a mountain of potatoes. She glanced sideways at him. "Mr. Reardon, what you plan to do about Campbell running off with this boy?"

"I wish the hell I knew, Pearl."

"You ask me, I see all boys Campbell has reeled in, and this one is first keeper."

"Well who the hell asked you?"

Pearl folded her arms over her breasts and shot him a look.

Blake groaned. "I'm sorry, Pearl. I know he's a fine boy, probably better than we deserve. I just wish the hell Campbell wasn't in love with him."

"Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Reardon.

Saint Teresa said more tears shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones."

Before Blake could respond, he saw movement in the yard, Campbell and Sayen hurrying toward the garage. Blake zeroed in on the bulge in Campbell's Speedo and understood what was afoot. He gasped for breath, turning into long ragged pants for enough air.

"You feel okay, Mr. Reardon?" Pearl asked.

"Not here!" Blake gasped. "Please, not now."

Minutes later, Blake slipped into the garage and inched toward the Bentley. The car rocked from side to side; the glass was steamed over. He leaned to the window, caught an eyeful, and pulled back.

On the radio, a new song had begun; Jimmy Durante rasped, "I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places." Blake slumped to his knees, snatched Sayen's shorts, and pressed them to his face, inhaling. He dropped the shorts, clutching both arms around his chest in a protective move. A sharp pain concentrated deep in his left shoulder.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as a low heaving sound escaped the Bentley. The car's rocking became more violent. Every instinct told Blake to run away, to put as much distance as possible between him and what was happening in that backseat, but he couldn't. He peered in the window again.

He heard his son's voice saying, "I'm...

I'm...."

"Harder," Sayen barked. "Hurt me."

Blake inched away, unable to stand the pain any longer. As he reached the door, he heard Sayen's deep-throated voice, sounding like Greta Garbo, saying, "I'm yours."

Blake tumbled out the door and landed on his knees, while still clutching his chest. It took all his strength to pull himself to his feet and stagger to the house. He needed a stiff shot. He needed several stiff shots.

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