1 Runaway Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’re a real dick.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Isn’t that what they call a guy who does what you do?”
    “Generally, they call me a private investigator.”
    The lighter popped up. She yanked it out and lit her joint, toking deeply on it. “Want some?” she asked, opening her window a crack to let the smoke out.
    “No, thanks.”
    “It helps me relax. I’m hardwired to excel—academics, music, sports. I’m a little tightly wound.” Sara flashed a smile at me. She had a sweet smile. A set of dimples you could go spelunking in. “Trevor? This guy who I’m sort of boning? He’s really into old Bogie movies. That’s why I asked you about the dick thing. Trevor likes to wear this old gray fodera just like Sam Spade.”
    “Fedora.”
    “It’s like a hat? He said it was called a fodera.”
    “Fedora.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “I couldn’t be more sure. What does ‘sort of boning’ mean?”
    “We’re fuck buddies but it’s not serious.”
    “You don’t consider fucking serious?”
    “Not really. Why, do you?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “That’s so sweet.” She toked on her joint. “Do you carry a roscoe?”
    “No one has used that term for at least seventy years. But, yes, I’m licensed to carry a firearm.”
    “Have you ever shot anyone?”
    “No.”
    “But you know how to use it?”
    “I go shooting regularly at the Westside Pistol Range in Chelsea.”
    “Are you carrying it with you right now?”
    “It’s locked in the glove compartment.”
    “Can I see it?”
    “No.”
    “Well, what kind is it?”
    “A Smith and Wesson Chief’s Special. It has a short, two-inch barrel. Is easy to conceal. I find it easy to handle, too. I don’t have very big hands.”
    “That’s too bad.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “I’ve heard what they say about guys who have small hands.”
    I let that one slide on by. She was too young to get frisky with. A straight-A student, according to her file. An adorable little hottie, according to me. Too bad she wasn’t five years older. Hell, even three. I gazed back out at the deserted road. Once again I was sensing a shadow out there somewhere. I saw no one. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling. “Sara, you said your parents don’t know anything. Did you mean in regards to Bruce’s unnamed benefactor?”
    “Wait, you’re the one who’s looking for him, right?”
    “Right.…”
    “And you don’t know who his benefactor is?”
    “Also right.”
    She smoked her joint some more. “That’s fairly weird, isn’t it?”
    “Yes and no. I’m only told what clients choose to tell me. Do you have an idea who it is?”
    “Some giant, sleazoid sneaker company, obviously. They’re trying to buy him off. I wonder how much they’re offering Brucie. I bet it’s a million. A million means nothing to those people.”
    “Sara, I think we’d better hit rewind,” I said, not following one word she was saying. “Tell me about Bruce, will you?”
    She leaned her head back against the headrest. The joint was calming her down. “He’s a great brother. Just a real sweet guy. Smart, but not one of those ego kings who’s always trying to chump you. In high school he was a major, major baller. But not anymore, except for pick-up games. I think that’s how he and Charles met.”
    “And Charles is?…”
    Sara rolled her eyes at me like a suffering teenager. God’s subtle way of reminding me that she was one. “Charles,” she said, louder this time. “ The Charles.”
    “Do you mean Charles Willingham?”
    “Duh.”
    “Your brother and Charles ‘In Charge’ Willingham are friends?”
    “Benji, they’re more than friends. They’re lovers.”
    I looked at her in shock. “Charles Willingham is gay?”
    “The two of them mean everything to each other.”
    “Charles Willingham is gay?”
    She glared at me. “Yes, Charles Willingham is gay. And, by the way, so is my brother. Get over it, will you?”
    Easier said than done. There had been no mention of this