At the City's Edge Read Online Free PDF Page B

folding doors, a couple of dishes in the sink, a bottle of Jim Beam on the counter, grade-school analog clock on the
     wall. Finally her tour brought her full circle, her eyes back to rest on his. She hesitated, then said, ‘Were you really in
     Iraq?’
    ‘First Brigade, Twenty-fifth Infantry.’
    ‘Can I ask you something?’
    He said, ‘Sure,’ but sighed inwardly.
    ‘What’s it…’ She paused, stared down at her cup. ‘What’s it like?’ When she looked back up at him, it was with something like
     lust in her eyes. He recognized the look, saw it all the time. Like pulling back a curtain, you could watch people change.
     Their inner darkness hungry to know what it felt like to get wet. Wanting him to tell them horrible, delicious things. The
     sexiest porn in the world.
    ‘Hot,’ he said, then stood and opened the refrigerator. Leftover Thai. When had he gotten it? He opened the container and
     sniffed. Seemed okay, though how spoiled curry would smell different from regular curry he couldn’t say. He found a takeaway
     packet with a napkin, chopsticks, soy. He split the chopsticks, rubbed them together, then scooped up a mouthful of noodles.
     Tasted fine.
    ‘That’s it?’ she asked, turning to look at him. ‘Hot?’
    He shrugged. ‘Noisy.’

    ‘You don’t want to talk about it?’
    ‘Want some?’ He offered her the takeout container. She stared at him, and he sighed. ‘Look, it was hot, it was noisy. I was
     there, now I’m back.’
    ‘Okay,’ she said.
    They small-talked through the rest of the coffee. After about twenty minutes, she made a point of looking at the clock, and
     he smiled to let her know it was no problem, that he was easy. He washed the mugs, then leaned on the counter to look at her.
     Watching a woman get dressed had always felt nearly as sexy as the opposite. She scrunched up her face at a rip in her stockings,
     decided to do without. Covered the blue pan ties with a black skirt and pulled on a fitted shirt that clung to her body.
    ‘Listen,’ she said, moving to him, ‘About what I said –’
    ‘Don’t worry about it.’
    ‘It’s just, I was curious. I didn’t mean to go to a bad place or anything.’
    He shook his head. ‘It’s fine.’
    ‘Okay.’ She took one of his fingers in her hand, played with it idly, eyes down. For a moment she looked like a little girl.
     Then she straightened and said, ‘So, good-bye.’
    ‘You’re not going to leave your number?’
    She smiled. ‘Any point?’
    He laughed, and for a moment, wanted to say,
Hell yes.
She was sexy and smart and self-possessed, and he ought to consider himself lucky for the chance.

    Then he thought ahead to the way it would end. The way it always did.
    She saw his hesitation, shook her head. ‘It’s okay. It was nice to meet you.’ Then she opened the door and stepped out, giving
     him a little wave using just her fingers. The walls were thin, and he could hear her heels click all the way down the hall.
    ‘Shit.’ Jason scooped the container of noodles from the table and tossed it in the trash.
    He made his bed, pulling the sheets tight and tucking the corners. Ready to bounce a quarter off. Then he stretched, and hit
     the deck for push-ups. Normally he did a hundred neat snaps with hands beneath his shoulders, followed by fifty arms-wide.
     But he thought of Jackie, the way he hadn’t had the balls to tell her yes, and forced himself into another fifty of each,
     no break. He was panting by the end, shoulders and chest sore, the mop of bangs he’d let grow since his return sticky against
     his forehead.
    Standing, he spotted his cell phone. He thought about dialing Michael, apologizing for getting worked up. Guy was an asshole
     sometimes, but they were still brothers.
    Instead he went to the bathroom and showered off his sweat and the smell of the girl’s perfume.
    The chrome on the Beretta was shiny, but the works were filthy. Besides not knowing how to hold a weapon, Soul Patch