Island Girl Read Online Free PDF

decent Car Bomb, and I know enough to drink it fast. Take one for the team, Donaldson? No problem. After that, I’ll drink whatever I can afford—vodka if I’m flush—or whatever anyone will buy for me if I’m not. The day I go home sober will probably be the day I kill myself. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.
    “What’s she doing now?” Mark asked.
    “Ordering something else.” I watched Ruby hand the waitress her menu. “Twenty bucks says it’s a grilled cheese.”
    “You’re wrong.”
    The waitress grabbed a bottle of ketchup from a neighboring table and set it down beside the teacup. I smiled. “You want to take that bet?”
    “Can you afford to lose?”
    He knew damn well I couldn’t. Payday was Friday, and my worldly wealth now amounted to what was in my pocket—five bucks and a streetcar token. But Ruby had always loved Fran’s and since she had named the meeting place, I figured she was taking a stroll down memory lane while she still could, and that would definitely include a grilled cheese sandwich.
    “Okay, you’re on,” I said. “What’s she ordering?”
    “Avocado and sprouts on whole wheat.”
    I had to laugh. “Mark, if you want to give me money, it’s easier to send me a check.”
    “I’ll send you a check if you come with me to an AA meeting.”
    And there it was. Mr. Bernier’s Monthly Meeting Reminder. He meant well, and he’d always been good to me, even after Ruby packed his bags and left them at the ferry dock while he was at work. I was seventeen and Mark was the closest thing I’d ever had to a father, so of course I lugged those bags straight back to the house. Started unpacking his stuff while she was down the street putting streaks in a neighbor’s hair.
    I was almost finished, just his stick deodorant left to put in the medicine cabinet, when she came back. Ruby likes to tell people she never hit us as kids, but I assure you she couldn’t hit me hard enough that day. Mary Anne had to come and pull her off.
    An hour later, every trace of Mark was gone—Ruby’s declaration fulfilled. But he never lost touch with Grace and me. He even put me through law school and gave me a place to crash whenever I missed the last ferry, which was most of the time. But honestly, who decided the last ferry should leave the city at 11:30 P.M? What do they think we are over there? Pumpkins?
    To this day, Mark buys me dinner once a week, pays my annual fees to the law society, and keeps my cell phone turned on. If he would stop nagging about AA, he’d be the perfect father figure, but he can’t help himself. The poor guy still thinks I have potential, and it bothers him that my law degree is sitting in the bottom of a drawer. I know he sees it as a personal affront, but my decision had nothing to do with him. After everything that happened to Grace, I don’t have the stomach for law anymore. Don’t believe in right and justice or truth and fairness because there was nothing right or just or true or fair in what happened to my sister. The law failed her, failed me, failed us all, and I am done. It’s just a pity I can’t sell the degree on eBay.
    But Mark is right. I should stop drinking. Clean myself up. Get a full-time job. Be a contributing member of society again. But the thing is, I like to drink. And I like who I am when I’m tipsy. I’m more jovial, more fun to be around. I’m also sexier. Men tell me that all the time. Man, you are one sexy bitch. Let’s dance. Let’s kiss. Hell, let’s fuck.
    Okay by me, only not at my place because I don’t want you to know where I live. I just want to close my eyes and let the world spin while you take care of business, understand? And I don’t want you to call me later, and I’m sure as hell not going to call you because honestly, honey, I don’t want to know you. I just want to screw you and take that streetcar home. Ding, ding. Ding, ding .
    Things were easier when I was married. Sex was there all the time whether I