Scalping the Red Rocks by Greg Lilly

Author:Greg Lilly [Lilly, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

As tempting as the prospect of sending him an anonymous note was, I refrained. Kimbo Blue dated Aubrey’s ex-wife, Tricia, and he posted nude pictures of himself on a gay hook-up site. Not exactly the kind of man he portrayed as a pillar of the Sedona community and one of the leaders of the Sedona Gentry. Then again, my cousin Mark did the exact same thing in Charlotte. He was married with a child on the way, the president of Harris Construction, a member of several prominent Boards of Directors for large corporations and nonprofits. I guessed I was naïve.

Several more pages of men could hold other surprises and I hoped that Topher wasn’t one of them. I wanted him to be what I thought he was, who he seemed to be: a nice guy, no secrets, no kink, no hidden agenda. But, is anyone ever that? The jaded side of me wanted to kick my ass and make me realize that people are complicated with ropes of hidden desires that tie them to a dark place concealed from their public persona. I knew that. I had played those games before.

“Come on, Topher,” I said, “don’t be here.” Stopping at profiles where the ages seemed to be around Topher’s, I opened a few more. Some actually had face shots and I tried to remember if I had seen them around town. “That’s the guy from the grocery store,” I said when I opened a page with a face shot. “Knew it all along.”

The list ended and I hadn’t seen any profiles that remotely looked like Topher. My faith in his good guy character stood firm, but I had to admit, I was a little shaken by Mark’s decision to post himself on DiscoverDick.com. I thought I knew him better than that, but I had accused him before of one-night-stands on his business trips, and he never denied it. Let Kathleen worry with Mark’s covert sex life. I was over it.

Although, the bizarre exposure of Kimbo Blue bothered me too, and I wasn’t sure why.

The kitchen chair creaked as I rocked back onto its two hind legs and scratched my stomach. Hunger threatened to snatch my focus, so I grabbed my backpack with my cell phone in it and headed out the door in search of lunch and a couple of Cosmopolitans.

By the time I turned onto Highway 89A, I knew where to go: Plaisir de Sedona. Tricia, the self-appointed queen of Sedona, owned a French restaurant on the main strip of highway. I had seen ads and commercials, on the local tourist channel, of Tricia spewing French phrases while slinging custard and caramelizing prickly pear fruit.

The restaurant’s façade yearned to be French-inspired chic, but the flat roof produced a blocky building with extravagant faux painting attempting to convey old-world limestone. Before I entered the canopied, arched, fortress-style doors, a quick rub of the wall confirmed my suspicions that the building was cinderblock. What she wasn’t able to accomplish on the outside, Tricia achieved a coup d’état with the interior.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.