8-Track Read Online Free PDF

her tan line under the shirt she was wearing. Bill tried to look away fast, but Sam’s smile let him know it wasn’t fast enough. 
    “Thanks for driving me home. Where do you live?” she asked sweeping her hair back. The question caught Bill by surprise.
    “Uh, in Conway, just a few minutes outside of town. It’s quiet, I like it.”
    “Later gator,” Sam said drawing out the last half of each word.
    “Bye.”         
    Vanessa was sitting on the front steps smoking a cigarette. “Why didn’t Eli drive you home?”
    “Eli asked Bill to drive me, something wrong with that?” Sam asked watching Bill drive away
    “No, just be careful.”
    ***
 
    By seven o’clock all the guests at Eli’s house had left, leaving Eli alone with Hubble outside on the patio talking. Hubble appeared composed although he was beginning to feel it. His body was calling for it, wanting, needing that next fix. The last thing he needed right now was for Eli to find out he was booting. He remained calm and stood up.
    “What can I say Eli, thanks for the welcome back. Was really good of ya.” Eli grabbed a smoke from his vest.
    “No problem, we all needed to move on,” he replied running the thumbwheel of his lighter over his thigh.
    “Cool,” Hubble said slapping Eli on the back.     
    “I’m heading down to Nashua tomorrow, thought I’d visit my cousin Lisa.  Haven't seen her in eight years, figured I’d get an early start. Talk to ya next week brother.”  Eli nodded. Hubble opened the driver’s door and got in. Feeling his arm begin to shake he placed the key in the ignition and drove off.
    Eli stretched out in his Adirondack chair and looked up at the horizon. The sun was still visible, sitting just slightly above the trees. Shades of lavender, red and yellow filled the summer sky. He reached for the half smoked joint in front of him and lit it. Inhaling a long hit, he briefly wondered why he had never heard about a cousin named Lisa. Then he let it go.

Train Kept a Rollin'
    Bill got out of bed early the next morning, eager to get started on his next home project, building a work bench. After getting dressed and putting on some coffee he went downstairs. The single car garage wasn’t very big and rather tight for an adequate carpenter’s bench. Several sheets of wood sat in a corner, most likely left behind when they scrapped the Old Coach development. Eyeing the area Bill couldn’t decide on a location, then it hit him, the barn’s loft .   It was wired for electricity, it was spacious and offered an incredible view, one of the benefits of being the only house built in the secluded area.
    Over the next several hours Bill moved a portion of his tools, the plywood, and equipment to the loft. After taking some measurements he laid everything down on drafting paper and flung open the window. A continuous warm breeze blew in while he cut the wood, sawdust floated like snowflakes to the ground and the smell filled the air.
    By late afternoon Bill had built a suitable work bench beneath the oversized garden window. Crossing his arms he stood back to admire his handiwork. The frame was counter height laying seventy inches in length and forty-two inches deep. The ends were cheek-cut with a clean beveled edge, just to give it some character. Bill placed his tools on it, arranging them in a fashion only he could appreciate, and headed back to the house.
    He stopped in the kitchen to grab a Heineken and eat some cold pizza before starting on his next project. Lifting the two Kenwood floor speakers, each about the size of a bedside table, Bill hauled them out onto his deck off the master bedroom. “Fuck,” he yelled catching his balance, nearly tripping over the trail of stranded-copper-speaker-wire lying across his floor.
    Sipping his beer Bill eyed the stack of 8-track tapes, what am I in the mood for, duck, duck, goose. Removing the cassette from its glossy full color jacket Bill shoved it in the player,