Cold Summer Nights Read Online Free PDF Page A

girlfriend with the TV off?” he asked, snatching the remote and bringing the flat screen to life.
    “Not exactly.”
    “Are you stalking her on Facebook yet?”
    Nick’s lips pursed together. “Funny.”
    "Wow, you bought a newspaper?" Rusty asked, trading the remote for the thick Sunday edition lying on the coffee table. "You gonna buy a VCR next?"
    “You’re still bitter,” Nick said, sitting down in an espresso colored leather armchair.
    “I’m not bitter.”
    Up until four months ago, Rusty had written a weekly article in the Des Moines Register for the past five years. The Rusty Nail covered the Des Moines social scene and the thing Rusty missed the most about it was all the free drinks. The remainder of his time at work he had serviced client accounts that, for the most part, had severed their subscription with the well known paper. The Internet, combined with the recession, had resulted in a lot of servicing . Eventually, the paper had to sever his subscription to a paycheck but he didn’t hold a grudge. Not anymore anyway. It wasn’t their fault times were tough out there, but Rusty would have preferred seeing them dump the Secret Diner column instead of his.
    He was busy these days querying literary agents to represent a horror novel he had written. So far none had been interested in Two and a Half Zombies, where a famous actor catches a deadly infection from a porn star that begins a deadly apocalyptic slide into darkness. Rusty was confident that someone would pick it up soon and he’d be drinking margaritas from a floating chaise in his guitar-shaped swimming pool in no time. He knew he was capable of bigger things than comparing Sunday morning Bloody Mary bars around town.
    "Picked it up at McDonalds after Summer bailed this morning."
    "Smart move," Rusty said, skimming the front page. "Always wait for them to leave before buying breakfast."
    Nick laughed.
    "Uh-oh, Nick! Gang Violence is on the rise in Des Moines!" Rusty said, reading a headline in a feigned worried tone. "These reporters should try going to Chicago for a weekend. Maybe they'd realize our gangbangers are like Girl Scouts and stop scaring people with this crap. It doesn't make any sense. Kinda like traffic cams on the local news. I mean, what is this, Minneapolis? I can get to any bar in this town in ten minutes."
    Nick snorted. "Especially the way you drive. Speaking of bars, how'd it go last night?”
    Rusty released a long sigh. “Not too good without my favorite wing-man,” he said, dropping the paper onto the floor with a loud thud and glaring at Nick.
    “Oh come on. I’m sure Dallas isn’t that bad.”
    “Bad? He’s terrible. The guy propels chicks like he’s Phil Spector !”
    Nick laughed and got up. “You want a beer or something?”
    “Sure,” Rusty said, running a hand through his thinning black hair while flipping channels with the other. “You know what he said last night?”
    “What’s that?” Nick said from the kitchen.
    “The bar is packed and these three hotties roll by our table and he goes, “ Hey ladies, let me clear off a spot for you to sit,” and then starts brushing off his face.”
    Nick cracked up and handed Rusty a cold bottle of Sam Adams. “Get out!”
    “Those chicks kept walking like someone was handing out free purse dogs on the other side of the bar.”
    Nick sat back down in the comfy chair, took his ball cap off and rubbed his greasy face. “Oh man, that is too funny.”
    “You wanna know what's really funny? Guess who we ran into last night," he said, eyeballing Nick and taking a swig from the brown bottle.
    Nick put his cap back on and shook his head. “Who?”
    “The gruesome-twosome,” Rusty replied with a slight grin. “Stacey and Amy.”
    Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Where?"
    “Bomber’s.”
    “Bomber’s?”
    “We tried to hit on em but Dallas farted or something and blew it, but guess what else.”
    “What?” Nick said, hanging on his every word.
    “Amy and Brad