Infamous Read Online Free PDF

eyes that were a whole hell of a lot less warm now.
    “She’s taking the news rather well,” Jamie said dryly. “Atleast she hasn’t called in the sheriff yet. You might want to tell her the rest of it, kid. This way, you get it over with all at once. Like pulling off a Band-Aid. While you’re at it, come to think of it, you should tell her about me.”
    A.J. looked at him. There was not a chance in hell he was going to do that.
    But Alison had found her voice. “You’re not the actor the casting office found to play Jamie Gallagher.”
    A.J. shook his head and answered, even though she hadn’t made it a question. “No, ma’am. I’m not an actor. I’m a carpenter. From Alaska.”
    “Then why are you here?” Alison point-blanked it with a directness that A.J. admired.
    Admired and respected and, yeah, liked. A little too much. He tried to brush off the disappointment that he knew was going to pile up as he continued to talk to her, and she continued to be funny and smart.
    “Well, I guess I’m here because …” He cleared his throat. Where and how to start? “See, I must’ve read about it online,” he said. “The fact that Henry Logan was making this movie based on your book. It was the first I’d heard of it—your book—so I searched for it and … Couldn’t find it. I finally ordered it direct from the publisher.”
    “Small press,” she said. “Low print run. It’s still hard to find.”
    A.J. nodded. “No kidding. I read there’s gonna be a trade paperback reissue from a bigger publisher.”
    “It’ll hit bookstores when the movie comes out,” she said.
    A.J. nodded again. “Congratulations. That’s great. It was, um, well written. A quick read, considering the length, and uh …”
    “Thank you?” she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “And you came here because you wanted to … tell me that? Maybe get your copy signed …?”
    “Not exactly.” A.J. hesitated.
    Next to him, Jamie started to whistle quietly, a rather tuneless rendition of one of the snippets of music the organist usedto play at the college summer league baseball field in Anchorage, prompting the crowd to shout, “Let’s go!”
    A.J. finally spoke, just as Alison, too, leaned forward.
    “I’m here because, like I said before, you got the story, the facts, completely wrong,” he told her, as she said, “If you’re here for your share of the millions of dollars I’m making off this book, you’re in for a shock. My advance was a low five figures. And even if I
were
making a ton of money, which I’m not, every lawyer on this planet would agree. You don’t even remotely own the rights to the story of a man who’s been dead since 1898.”
    “1977,” A.J. corrected her. “And no, ma’am, that is not why I’m here. Not for money, no. I’m here because …” He glanced at Jamie.
Because Great-grandpa’s ghost wouldn’t stop pestering me until I packed a bag and headed south
. No way was he telling her that. “Well, because you wrote in the introduction to your book that you were striving for historical accuracy. And you seemed to mean it. And there’s a whole pack of inaccuracies in your book that could use some clearing up.”
    “Understatement of not just one century, but two,” Jamie said.
    A smile had found its way back onto Alison’s face. “Really.”
    “I thought,” A.J. told her, “from what you wrote, that you’d be interested in the truth.”
    “A truth that has Kid Gallagher living until 1977—a full one hundred and one years after he was born?”
    “That’s right,” A.J. said, glancing at Jamie. This was good. She seemed interested, and okay, maybe a little too amused, but at least she hadn’t kicked him out on his ass into the dusty street.
    “Silas Quinn shot and killed Kid Gallagher in 1898,” she countered with patient authority. “It’s been documented.”
    “Will you please ask her to stop calling me
kid,”
Jamie said plaintively,