Living the Gimmick by Bobby Mathews

Author:Bobby Mathews [Mathews, Bobby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, Crime
ISBN: 9781956957075
Google: sKHgzgEACAAJ
Amazon: B09XFDLRQK
Publisher: Shotgun Honey Books
Published: 2022-05-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 14

April 3, 2010

Huntersville, North Carolina

They say that Lake Norman is North Carolina’s inland sea, with five hundred and twenty miles of shoreline. Boaters and anglers and anyone out for a party heads to the lake whenever they can, especially if they don’t want to be bothered by the tourists out on the eastern shore of the tar heel state. The barrier islands are gorgeous, and there’s history like Kitty Hawk and the Wright Brothers to think about. But there’s sunshine and water and fresh beer at Lake Norman, too. I guess it’s all about what you’re after.

Ray had a house on the lake in Huntersville, just north of Charlotte. He could fly in and out of Charlotte to make his bookings, or we could make the easy shot down to Atlanta if he felt like spending some time in the car. The house was massive, made of native stone and smoked glass. Three stories high and at least twenty-thousand square feet. There was a tennis court in the back next to a dazzling blue swimming pool. The rear portico overhung an outdoor kitchen with all of the bells and whistles. A fire burned cheerily in the built-in fireplace, and above that, an eighty-inch high-definition TV was mounted in a recessed spot made for just that sort of thing.

It was a party, and I was pleased that my best friend had remembered my birthday. I didn’t want to think about how old I was, how maybe I was finally slowing down a little, and it looked like Ray had provided the perfect distraction for me. Huge washtubs of iced-down beer sat on the portico, and I grabbed one. Cracked it open, drank half of it in one go. There were maybe fifty people there, laughing and smiling and generally having a good time. Someone had put out wine and hard liquor on the bar in case someone developed a real thirst, and I had a feeling that before the party was over, I’d be thirsty as hell.

Ray was nowhere in sight, but I saw several people I knew, including Jackie Fulltone and Pepper Montez. They were drinking beer, too. Dandy Sullivan was drunk as a skunk already, but he was taking a turn at the big built-in grill, turning tomahawk rib-eyes and spilling beer onto them from an open can when the flames got too high.

There was music, because there always was. Hidden speakers played Jimmy Buffett, and in the chill spring air, I could certainly feel changes in my latitudes and attitudes.

It was cold for April, but a couple of insane women braved the pool. Somehow their bikini tops had gotten lost, or maybe they never had them at all.

“Hey,” someone yelled. I turned around and it was Rockwell Riggs, a young kid that Ray liked to keep around because he allegedly muled snow for the older guys. Riggs was no more than five-eight, but what he lacked in height he made up for in width. His deltoids had deltoids, and if wrestling still attracted single women, he would have been up to his neck in pussy.

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