Apples Should Be Red Read Online Free PDF Page B

cup of motherfucking sugar. Or the kid selling magazines. Or them inviting him over for dinner. He liked eating alone.
    He liked being left alone.
    He glanced down at the boy. The kid was skinny as a twig and covered with bandages.
    “Looks like you’re taking your licks with the bike, huh?”
    The kid took a step behind his dad’s leg.
    Jesus H. Christ.
    The father chuckled. “Jason has a steep learning curve with the bike, it’s true. But he’s determined to master it. Right, Jay?”
    The kid dug his fingers into his dad’s pants.
    Tom was pretty sure the bike pump was hanging next to the garage door. He shook out a cigarette from the pack.
    “Learning to ride a two wheeler is pretty da—darned tough. I took a few spills in my day.”
    “That right?” Mr. Franklin lingered on the porch.
    “Yep.” Tom stuck the cigarette in his mouth, then glanced down at the boy. He sighed and put the cigarette back in his pocket.
    “I got a tip for you, kid. Stay close to the edge of the street. If you think you’re gonna fall, try to land on the grassy part, okay?”
    The kid nodded.
    “That’s a good tip. Did you hear that, Jay? There’s a lotta grassy front yards here.” He turned back to Tom. “Our old place was in the concrete jungle. No soft landings there.”
    “Let me see if I can find the pump. I have an idea where it might be.”
    The kid smiled and hid his face completely behind the dad’s legs. Little bugger.
    “Thanks—I didn’t catch your name.”
    “Tom. Jenkins.” He grumbled under his breath.
    “Nice to meet you, Tom. I appreciate the help with the bike.”
    Tom glanced back at Bev, who was watching from the doorway. “This is Beverly, my…uh…son’s mother-in-law.” He stumbled over the words.
    Jerome held out his hand to Bev. “Nice to meet you.”
    Beverly smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you too. It must be hectic prepping for Thanksgiving and moving at the same time.”
    The dad laughed. “There’s a lot of chaos at the house right now. We might need to get take-out.”
    “Beverly could donate a couple of dishes. She’s been prepping for this dinner since the 1980s.”
    Tom wanted to laugh out loud at Beverly’s incensed expression, but he kept a straight face.
    “Wow. That would be great. You don’t mind?” Jerome asked.
    Beverly pasted on a fake smile. “No problem at all. We have a lot of food.”
    “We’ll be over in a moment,” Tom said.
    The father and son left, and Tom leaned back on the porch railing. His eyes were glued to Bev whose lips were pinched together.
    “Well, you were badgering me about getting chummy with the neighbors, so there you go. I did it. Now they’ll be bugging the shit out of me for the next twenty years. Let’s go find the bike pump and get a lemonade.”
    “I can donate a couple of dishes? As if I don’t already have enough work to do for our Thanksgiving dinner. Tom!”
    He cleared his throat. “I don’t see what the trouble is. Just double up on a couple of casseroles.”
    Beverly’s eyes sparked. “Well, you should take the pump over. I’ll be here. Cooking .” There was practically smoke pouring out of her ears.
    “Thanksgiving is two days away.”
    “Yes, and I’m way behind. I have pies and stuffing and—”
    “You have plenty of time to do that later. You’re the one who told me to be more neighborly, dammit. This is all your fault. Now you can just tag along and get a drink.”
    “I’m not thirsty.”
    He grabbed her hand again. She tugged and tried to pull away. He pulled her closer to him. “We’re getting a lemonade.
    Bev jabbed him with her fingernails. Stabbed him. He still didn’t let go.
    “You are infuriating.”
    “A lot of folks think that. Join the fucking club.”
    “Are you going to cuss like that in front of the children?”
    He shrugged. “I’ll try not to.”
    “It’s disrespectful.”
    He nodded a couple of times. “Okay. Fair enough. I’ll try to clean up my language.