Adelaide Confused Read Online Free Page B

lawn mower. But it had
been a bad time, I’d just left home and my recovery had a rough
start. To say I was antisocial would be putting it
mildly.
    Back then I hadn’t wanted
to see a face. I still didn’t like people much, but I had learned
to cope. With that in mind, I made my way to his property
line.
    It wasn’t a matter of
simply climbing the fence. First I had to find a gap in the bushes.
And still there was a fight to push them aside, they scraped and
scratched at me. I nearly lost.
    The fence gave a metallic
groan as I climbed aboard, and shuttered when I flopped off. The
first thing I noticed was how different our yards were. When I
walked through mine the grass tickled my calves, the trees and
bushes growing together, eating up the open space. His grass was
freshly cut, the bushes neatly trimmed to line the exterior, a glen
from a fairy tale.
    The trees from my side hung
well into his. I wondered if he minded. Built around the same time,
our houses were nearly identical, though his was made entirely of
brick. I paused at the back door, realizing the emotion I’d been
tracking was gone.
    I felt silly then, standing
there without a reason. The only logical explanation was that it
had been coming from him. Perhaps he’d won the lottery, or maybe he
was just helping himself to some afternoon delight. But now that
the feeling no longer lingered I began to doubt that he was even
home. A body shop didn’t run itself.
    I turned to go, wondering
where the hell that feeling had come from, wondering if I was maybe
crazy.
    “Did you need something?”
    I froze.
    Turning slowly, the first
glimpse I got was of his filthy work attire. It was comprised of a
T-shirt that had once been white, now a grease stained rag, blue
Dickies with black smudges, and a pair of ass-stomping
boots.
    “ Did you need something?”
he repeated, standing in the open doorway. His hair was short, his
skin tan, and I noticed what I hadn’t noticed the only other time
I’d met him. He was good-looking. Strong, tall, broad-shouldered,
his face wasn’t sharp and severe but bold with rounding
curves.
    Of course I stuttered
stupidly, having not planned out what I was going to say. “Are you,
uh, were you happy?” I shook my head and tried again. “I mean were
you feeling particularly happy today, just now?”
    He didn’t look at me like I
was an idiot, but that was the impression I got all the
same.
    “ Nevermind,” I muttered.
Turning abruptly, I ran home.
     
* * *
     
    Francesca called me the
moment my shift started. I knew she would.
    “ What did he want?” she
blurted.
    “Your number.”
    “ Are you serious?” she
breathed.
    “No,” I responded lightly.
    “ You can really be a bitch
sometimes, you know. So what’d he want then?”
    “I really don’t know,” which was the
truth.
    She made an exasperated sound. “Well what did
he say?”
    “ That’s irrelevant, men
don’t always mean what they say.”
    “Reed isn’t like most men,” she defended.
    It was like a repeat from
the night before. Irritated, I asked, “Is this all you called
for?”
    “ No actually,” she
admitted. “I think I need another reading.”

Chapter 4
     
    A few boyfriends ago,
Francesca had been dating a relaxed youngster named Nicky. As a
date, he’d taken her to the Parlor to have her cards read. Things
hadn’t worked out with Nicky, but the tarot interpreter had made a
lasting impression.
    So that was why I was
spending my morning with Francesca, toting her back to Madame
Bristow for an emergency reading.
    I had to ask, “Francesca, you do know that no
one can actually predict the future, don’t you?”
    “Of course,” she scoffed. “It’s just for
fun.”
    “ I set my alarm for your
self-indulgence?”
    She ignored me and began
giving directions. “Turn off Ocean Boulevard, there, there,” she
chanted, while pointing a manicured finger past my nose.
    I’d never actually noticed
the Parlor, though I’d walked Mallery Street many