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

said.
        She
said, "What's its ET?"
        "Jesus,
you know cars, huh? I don't know what its ET is. Never been timed."
        Her
dad used to take her to Detroit Dragway when she was a kid to see the
nitromethane-burning fuel dragsters, fuelies that went zero to sixty in two
tenths of a second. Nine seconds in the quarter mile, its ET, elapsed time.
        Her
dad said you could tell the guys that burned nitro. When they took off, it smelled
like acid. Nitro isn't a fuel, it's an explosive. It would blow off cylinder
heads like a hat off your head.
        Her
dad's interest: most of the stock blocks were 426 Hemis, an engine Chrysler
made.
        
        
        One day
they went to Nino's for groceries and then drove to Joey's place, this
atrocious-looking, fake brick neo-colonial. He popped the trunk and as they
were unloading the bags of groceries, Sharon noticed a baseball bat, a
Louisville Slugger that was stained with something red. She said, "What's
on your bat? Is that blood?"
        He
told her he played on a softball team and one of his teammates got hit in the
face by a pitch. That's where the blood came from. She knew you didn't use a
wooden bat to play softball, but didn't really think about it at the time. But
then Joey had his friends over and everyone had a nickname.
        There
was Hollywood Tony.
        Joey
said, "Ain't he a good-looking kid?"
        There
was "Big Frankie" and "Cousin Frankie." They were cousins
who looked like twins. Sharon said, "How do you tell them apart?"
        "What
do you mean?" Joey said. "It's easy."
        There
was "Joe the Pimp" and "Skippy" and "Paulie the
Bulldog." "Fat Tony," who was thin, and "Chicago
Tony," who was fat, and "Tony the Barber" who didn't cut hair.
They all drove Caddys and had money and hung out with hot young girls who
looked like models or strippers. Sharon had heard of some of the guys, knew
they were mobsters.
        She
remembered Jack Tocco, the don, coming in Club Leo one time with his entourage,
and the whole place stopped, people looked like they were frozen, the men, her
father included, paying homage to the man, the boss of all bosses.
        She
said, "Joey, what the hell do you do? You connected?"
        He
said, "To what?"
        "The
Mob?"
        He
never answered the question. They were on his boat called Wet Dream, that's how imaginative he was, looking out at the lake, a couple miles
offshore, Canada somewhere in the distance, sun setting, red highlights on the
horizon, Sharon thinking she'd gotten herself in too deep and shouldn't see him
any more. He got up and went below and she was trying to think of what to say
to him.
        He
came back on deck with a bottle of champagne and two flutes three-quarters
filled and handed one to her.
        She
said, "What's the occasion?"
        Joey
said, "I've been thinking about this for a while. I hope you have,
too."
        He
put the bottle in a cooler that was on deck. He got down on one knee and looked
up at her.
        "Will
you marry me?"
        He
clinked her glass and took a sip. She did, too.
        "Be
careful," he said. "There's something in there."
        Sharon
saw it at the bottom of the flute, floating just above the stem. She knew what
it was.
        "It's
our anniversary," Joey said. "Five weeks from the day we met."
        Joey
was a party boy. This was the last thing she would've expected. She said,
"I've got to tell you I'm a little surprised. I thought you were seeing
other girls, too."
        "Not
since I met you, babe. When I saw you I got hit by a tornado, a fucking
hurricane."
        She
didn't know what else to do so she drank the champagne and felt the ring tickle
her mouth, bobbing in the bubbles. When her champagne was gone, she turned the
glass upside down and caught it, a diamond ring, a big one.
        He
said, "Put it on."
        And
she did, the biggest engagement ring she'd ever