Bright Eyes Read Online Free PDF Page A

longer seemed to love him.
     
    At precisely eight o’clock the next morning, Zeke answered the door and found a hostile kid standing on his porch. Today Chad wore an oversize Big Dog T-shirt, sloppy tan shorts that hung well below his knees, and the same dusty Nikes with the laces dangling. He looked like a hundred other boys Zeke had seen in town. All he needed was a nose ring and a tattoo to be totally in vogue.
    “My mom says I have to work here to pay you back,” Chad said with a sullen glare.
    Zeke nodded and pulled the door wide. “Come on in. You had breakfast?”
    Chad snorted. “Like my mother doesn’t feed me?”
    So much for trying to befriend the little shit. Zeke led the way to the kitchen. “I’m having eggs Benedict. If you don’t want to eat, you can sit and watch while I do.”
    Chad shuffled along behind him. “Eggs what?”
    “Eggs Benedict,” Zeke repeated. “Poached eggs and ham on toasted English muffins with hollandaise sauce on top.”
    “You cooking it yourself?” Chad asked incredulously
    “Of course.” Zeke stepped over to turn the flame back up under the eggs. “It’s the maid’s year off.”
    Chad flopped onto a chair, skinny legs sprawled. “You a queer or something?”
    Zeke slanted the boy a hard look. “The politically correct term for a homosexual is gay, not queer.”
    “So—are you gay, then?” the boy asked with a sneer.
    “My sexual persuasions are none of your business.”
    “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re gay. That’s how come you live alone in this big house and cook fancy food.”
    “Maybe I like living alone and enjoy cooking. Ever think of that?”
    “Yeah, right.”
    Zeke refused to let the kid get his goat. “No long hair in my toothbrush, no nylons hanging on the showerhead, no standing in line to use the john, no fighting over the remote control.” He slapped a lid on the Teflon skillet. “Sure you don’t want something to eat? It’ll be a long time before lunch.”
    The kid shrugged, which Zeke took as a yes. He stuck two halves of another muffin into the toaster, grabbed more eggs from the fridge, and resumed his position at the stove. Minutes later when he handed Chad a plate, he said, “When you’re finished eating, tie your shoes. We’ll be using power tools. I don’t want you to trip and get hurt.”
    “Nobody but geeks tie their shoes.”
    “You’ll be a geek while you’re working for me, then.”
    Chad pushed at the eggs Benedict with his fork. “These are weird.”
    “Don’t eat them. All the more for me.” Zeke sat at the opposite side of the table to enjoy his breakfast. “You want some orange juice?”
    Chad shrugged again, so Zeke poured him a glass. The kid guzzled the juice, then tried the food. “Yuck,” he said, but continued to eat. “We never have eggs this way.”
    “What kind do you have?”
    “Burned scrambled or burned fried. If my mom invites you to dinner, don’t come.”
    Zeke almost grinned. Then he remembered his garden and stifled the urge. “Some people enjoy cooking; others don’t.”
    “My mom enjoys it.” Half of the boy’s eggs Benedict had already disappeared. “She just sings while she cooks and forgets the food.”
    Curious, Zeke arched an eyebrow. When Chad wasn’t forthcoming with more information, he couldn’t resist asking, “What’s she sing?”
    “Country, mostly. She pretends the spatula or spoon is a microphone and dances around the kitchen.”
    “Ah. She got a good voice?”
    “Poppy says she could’ve been the next Reba.” Chad pushed at his honey-brown hair, which was sorely in need of cutting. “Then she met my dad, got pregnant with me, and had to get married. My dad didn’t like her to sing, so she stopped for a long time. Now she’s too old to make it big.”
    “Too old?” Zeke guessed Natalie Patterson to be in her late twenties or early thirties. That wasn’t exactly over the hill.
    “My mom says lady singers have to make it big really young,”