All He Saw Was the Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

said?"
        Sharon
said, "You’d fall in love with a mysterious blonde." She’d gone from
blonde streaks to full blonde a month earlier and got more attention from men
than she ever had in her life. Her mother thought she looked like a $20 hooker.
Sharon wondered how her mother knew what hookers charged, but she liked her new
look. Had her eyebrows done too, waxed and colored to match her hair. Sharon
worked with a girl who dyed her muff with a product called Fun Betty that came in
three colors. You could be red down there, brunette or blonde. Sharon thought
that was going too far. She didn't care if the carpet and drapes didn't match.
No guy she'd been with had ever mentioned it.
        He
said, "You're close. It said, 'You're starting to design a life for
yourself that is truly custom-fit to your proclivities.'"
        Proclivities,
huh? She wondered if he had any idea what it meant. Sharon hadn't heard a guy
use his horoscope as a pickup line in fifteen years. Maybe it was back in style.
She said, "You just get a divorce?"
        "No,
I just met you." He puffed on the cigar and blew a cloud of smoke over the
bar top. "Where're my manners?" He held up the cigar, pinched between
his thumb and index finger. "This bother you?"
        "I
like it," Sharon said. "Reminds me of my father and uncles."
        He
said, "Good, we'll get along great. My name's Joey, by the way. Joey
Palermo."
        He
offered his hand and she shook it. It was warm and dry and wrapped around hers.
        She
wondered why a grown man would want to be called
        Joey.
"I'm Sharon Vanelli," she said.
        "How
do you like that? Two Italian kids meeting by chance, or is it fate?" Joey
still working the horoscope angle, that being there at the same time was
somehow pre-ordained.
        Joey
said, "Where'd you grow up at?" He gestured with his right hand, kept
it going while he talked, like he couldn't talk without it.
        "Bloomfield
Hills."
        "So
you're rich and beautiful."
        "My
dad was in PR at Chrysler." She almost said Chrysler's, out of habit.
        "You
in PR?"
        "I
sell ad space in magazines." She finished her wine.
        "How
about another one?"
        "Chardonnay,"
Sharon said. "Sonoma-Cutrer."
        Joey
raised his hand, got the bartender's attention, pointed to his glass and Sharon's.
The bartender nodded and went to work.
        "What
magazines?"
         "Heard
of Rolling Stone?"
        "No.
What's that?" He grinned. "'Course I heard of it. Bought the issue
had Jessica Alba on the cover."
        "You
like beautiful, tall, thin movie stars, huh?"
        "Who
doesn't?"
        He
puffed on the cigar, pinching it between his thumb and index finger.
        "Not
everyone," Sharon said and winked.
        "She
don't got nothing on you," Joey said, and winked back.
        He
wasn't going to be mistaken for a p—t laureate, but she appreciated what he was
trying to say.
        Joey
said, "What do you listen to?"
        "On
the way here, the new Wilco CD." She had 3,500 songs on her iPod.
        "I've
heard of them," Joey said.
        "What
do you like?'
        "Old
stuff, Frank and Bobby."
        Frank
and Bobby. Using their first names like they were friends. He wore a blue
button-down-collar shirt with the top three buttons undone showing chest hair
and a gold chain with the letters "SJ" hanging from it. "What's
SJ stand for?"
        He
grinned and put the nub of his cigar in the ashtray. "Swinging Joey."
        "That's
your nickname, huh? What's it mean, you like to dance, like to have a good
time?"
        "Something
like that."
        The
bartender put fresh drinks in front of them. Joey picked his up, and clinked
her glass and said, "Salute"
        Sharon
sipped her wine and said, "You from Sicily?"
        "Huh?"
        "Your
name's Palermo," Sharon said. "Isn't that the capital?"
        "I'm
from St Clair Shores. Used to go to