Bad Boy Read Online Free PDF

an understanding boss, a loyal employee, a good friend, a . . . Well, the list went on and on and made him tired. Being a dutiful stepson was the part that made him depressed, as well.
    Something about the first Mrs. Delano really saddened him. It was her relentless cheerfulness. She seemed happy in her little cottage in Winslow, but Jon imagined that the moment he left, she’d begin to pine. Not for him ‌ —Jon knew no one pined for him ‌ —but for Chuck, Jon’s father, the man she had loved and lost.
    There was no reason for Jon to feel responsible, but he did, and he guessed he would always feel it, so he’d prepared in advance for this day. He brought the flowers from behind his back. “Not expect me?” he asked, as cheerful as she was. “How could you not? Happy Mother’s Day, Barbara.” Jonathan presented the bouquet with a flourish.
    “For heaven’s sake. Roses and gladiolus. My favorites! How did you remember?”
    Jon figured this wasn’t the time to tell her about his automated calendar, tickler file, or his Palm Pilot.
    Barbara hugged him again. He could feel her soft bulk. She obviously didn’t use the track suit on the track. “You’re such a good boy, p. 31 Jon.” She stepped to the side to let him have access to the foyer. “Come on in. I’m making biscuits for breakfast.”
    “I didn’t know you could bake,” he lied, reluctantly. He didn’t want breakfast and . . . well, once she got started, Barbara could really talk. And there were two questions he dreaded: the overly casual “Heard from your father lately?” and the even worse “Are you seeing someone special?” Though Chuck rarely communicated with Jon and though Jon almost as rarely had a date, Barbara never tired of asking. But that was probably because she was lonely. She and his father had no kids and she’d never remarried. She seemed isolated, not just on the island but in her life.
    “You have to have coffee,” Barbara said.
    “Maybe just coffee. I don’t have a lot of time. I really ought to . . .”
    Barbara extended her hand and drew him into the house. “So, are you seeing anyone special?” she asked.
    Jon tried hard not to flinch. If he didn’t already know that the little time he spent on his personal life was a fiasco, last night would have been proof enough. He and Tracie, his best friend, had spent years trying to determine whose romantic life was less romantic. This week, he’d finally be the definitive winner. Or maybe that would make him the definitive loser. As he followed Barbara into the kitchen, he knew that whichever one it was, it wasn’t good.
     
    p. 32 An hour later, Jon pushed his bicycle, careful not to skin the heels of anyone as he followed a crowd of people disembarking the Puget Sound ferry on the city side. Everyone but him seemed coupled up. Sunday morning and arm in arm with their sweeties. Except him. He sighed. He worked all the time ‌ —relentlessly as all the whiz kids. Seattle loomed over the waterfront, with its silly Space Needle and the newer towers gleaming. He mounted the bike, quickly passed the crowd, and pedaled wildly onto Fifteenth Avenue Northwest.
    In less than ten minutes, Jon stopped abruptly outside a luxury apartment tower. He checked his watch, took another bouquet out of his basket ‌ —this one all tulips ‌ —and locked his bike against a parking meter. He entered the lobby of the building, an overdone mirrored space he used to visit when his dad took him for weekends. He pressed the elevator button, the door slid open, and he entered, pressing the number 12. Though it was only seconds, it seemed like a long ride.
    The elevator stopped and the bell beeped as the door slid open. Jon sighed again, walked out of the elevator, and paused to gather himself. Then he knocked on an apartment door where the name below the brass knocker read MR. & MRS. J. DELANO, with the MR. & crossed out. A woman ‌ —almost middle-aged but younger and far