Last Summer by Michael Thomas Ford

Author:Michael Thomas Ford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2013-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

“Well, it’s about time.”

Reilly looked down from his position on the ladder. Josh was standing below him on the grass, his hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the midmorning sun.

“Hey,” Reilly said casually.

“Where have you been?” Josh asked. “I haven’t seen you around in two weeks.”

“I’ve been busy on some other projects,” replied Reilly. “Can’t spend all of my time here.”

“Oh,” Josh said. “I guess you can’t. Well, it’s nice to have you back on the job.”

“I’ll try not to make too much noise,” Reilly told him as he quickly ascended the ladder to the roof.

Once he was perched on the wide expanse of bare tarpaper, the sheath of shingles by his side, he relaxed a little. As long as he was on the roof, Josh couldn’t talk to him. At least not easily, and he doubted Josh would risk climbing the ladder to come up there.

He felt badly about lying. He had been working other jobs, but they were ones he’d deliberately scheduled to avoid going back to 37 Oyster Lane, mostly small repairs that hadn’t been worth his time to do. Finally, when he’d found himself fixing the squeaky step on his parents’ back porch—the one his mother had been complaining about for almost a dozen years—he’d decided that enough was enough.

He spilt open the package of shingles, the smell of cedar filling the air as his utility knife sliced through the plastic covering. Just think about doing the job, he told himself. Don’t think about the other stuff.

The other stuff was Josh. Specifically, it was how upset he’d been to see that strange guy coming out of the house that morning two weeks earlier. At first he’d tried to accept Josh’s thinly veiled story about the man being a friend in need of a place to sleep for the night. But he knew that wasn’t true. He knew a one-night stand when he saw one, and the guy who’d walked out the door that morning had definitely been all about sex. He practically stank of it.

Reilly picked up his hammer and drove a nail through the first shingle, giving it three hard whacks and sending it deep into the wood beneath the tarpaper. He’d expected more from Josh. Picking someone up and taking him home for a screw was something he expected his drinking buddies to do. He was used to hearing about the supposedly hot chicks they bagged when no one was around to contradict their stories. He was more than familiar with the post-fuck recaps, the elaborately detailed descriptions of perfectly round tits, pussies that couldn’t get enough, and blow jobs that went on for hours. Sometimes he even liked hearing the stories, if only because he knew they were more about his friends’ fantasies than about what really happened when they got home, too drunk to get it up, and passed out on the bed after a few halfhearted attempts at getting an equally drunk girl to go down on them while they fantasized about the women in the porn videos they jacked off to.

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