AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He didn’t say anything.
“No answer. Answer enough.” She dropped her hands and stepped back. “That was going to be a goodbye kiss, wasn’t it? Once you pass me off to the next flyboy, you’ll make your grand exit.”
“As a favor to you! That’s what you said you wanted. Never to see me again. Remember?”
“Exactly. So why bother with kissing? I didn’t even ask for your help.”
He wanted to kiss her now more than ever, if only to prove that he could and still leave without a backward glance, without regret. The problem was, who would he be proving it to? To her? Or himself?
He should be sleeping. He should be long gone. Yet here he was, lending expertise and assistance in an effort to fix her problem. Any decent person would do the same, if not for Brynn, for the sick kid.
He would see this through and then split with a clear conscience. But if Brynn could do without kissing, by damn so could he. “You want to get to Tennessee?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Then you need to move on it before half the population of Atlanta, plus Wilson and Rawlins, are breathing down your neck. If you don’t favor this plan, fine. You don’t want any more of my help? Even better.” He sliced the air with his hands. “I’ll see you as far as the main airport, and we’ll go our separate ways from there. But make up your mind.”
She crossed her arms over her center, toed a dead weed in the wide crack in the sidewalk, looked at the barred windows, and reread the “For Sale” sign.
When her eyes reconnected with his, she said, “How graphic is the pornography?”
9:53 p.m.
To Brynn the noise level was raucous, but Rye, shouting directly into her ear in order to make himself heard, said, “It’s Thanksgiving. Light crowd.”
With an unbreakable grasp on her elbow and a proprietary demeanor, he steered her around tables where groups of men huddled over beer mugs and plates piled high with carbohydrates.
; Billiard balls clacked amid whoops of triumph and curses of defeat. Top Gun was playing on a TV larger than Brynn’s living room wall. Music was piped at a deafening level through scratchy overhead speakers.
There were only a handful of women in the place, all younger and less modestly clad than Brynn. Nevertheless, she received her share of speculative once-overs, whistles, and leers.
Rye headed toward a table on the periphery, which was a bit more secluded and where the lighting was dimmer. It was occupied by two men whose nachos had been reduced to crumbles. On the table was a collection of empty drinking glasses. Rye leaned down. “I’ll buy you a round in exchange for the table.”
They looked up at him, ogled Brynn, and one said, “Two rounds.”
“Done.”
With nudges and winks, they wished Rye good luck, then left them. As they sat down in the vacated chairs, Rye said, “I recommend sticking to the basics like a cheeseburger and fries, or nachos.”
“What else is on the menu?”
“Sides.”
“What are they?”
“Chili and jalapeños.”
“I’ll take the cheeseburger. No sides.”
He signaled a passing busboy and, as he was clearing the table, Rye said, “Couple of cheeseburgers, please.”
“I ain’t the waiter.”
Rye gave him a pained look. “Give me a fuckin’ break and bring out two cheeseburgers, okay?”
The young man looked even more pained. “Fries?”
