Little Did I Know: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

kiss on the cheek. He blushed and he and his wife left happy as a pair of Cape Cod clams. They had forgotten their twelve quarters and were light ten dollars, yet they were both in love with the enchanting Veronica Chapman.
    I wanted to know this girl.
    Her looks only threw fuel on that fire. She was more than pretty. You might describe her as ethereal: perfect skin, long, luscious blond hair, and stunning deep blue eyes that spoke to you, saying, “This was the place you had to be.” She was close to six feet tall and could have been a swimsuit model had the opportunity presented itself. She wore her hair up, held by a shiny lilac pin. Her sun-kissed shoulders were toned, long, and lithe. The slightest of spaghetti straps kept her modesty in check, as her jonquil sundress offered just a hint of cleavage and the promise of more. Her lips had a shine to them that shouted, “Kiss me.” The scent of fresh-picked strawberries hovered about her.
    After waiting for a beat or two, I finally caught her eye. “That was amazing,” I said. “It seemed eerily practiced: well rehearsed, almost frightening. By my count, you just sold three sodas for thirteen bucks plus what the machine ate. That’s quite a haul.”
    “I know.” She almost giggled. “It seems to work out that way more often than not. I don’t plan on it. Just takes a life of its own, I guess.”
    She smiled and the birds sang sweeter and the sun beamed brighter. Our eyes met and lingered. Finally, I found my voice and asked her for a room. “Something simple and inexpensive,” I requested.
    “We only have cheap and cheaper. For inexpensive you have to try the place down the road.” Then she offered me her cheapest room without indoor plumbing. To my delight, though, she was just flirting. She gave me a deal: five nights for $15. Then she offered her hand in welcome. I shook it as our eyes met again and I didn’t want to let go. As I headed out the door, Veronica offered coyly, “I’m here from noon on if you need anything, and my shift ends at ten if you need anything else.”
    The girl knew how to work this boy. Rather than stand there speechless wearing an idiot grin, I opted to exit and regroup.
    To my surprise, standing outside the office door was the Barrows’s limo driver. He quickly smiled and offered his hand. “I don’t mean to impose, but Mrs. Barrows asked you to join her for a drink this evening and I was waiting for the right moment as not to intrude.”
    “I’m in,” I said without hesitation.
    We arrived at the Full Sail within minutes. The joint was a beachfront tavern shoehorned at the intersection of Garden Road and Ocean Drive. A Crayola box of painted and faded beach cottages ran the length of the drive, all charming in a rundown sort of way. Even at this late hour, bikini-clad pretty young women cavorted on the beach under the appreciative eyes of young men looking for adventure. Clotheslines filled with towels, sheets, T-shirts, bathing suits, and more created a mosaic of vibrant colors to match the daily sunset and each morning’s dawn.
    Kids rode bicycles down the drive, shouting at their friends and making plans. Music filled the air, adding to nature’s natural energy, playing out as life’s soundtrack throughout the day. The waterfront was precious and space was at a premium. There were no cars. People arrived at the Full Sail on foot or bicycle, or in my case chauffeured limo at the request of Mrs. Barrows.
    The Full Sail was at peak throttle. I thought, as I looked around, that they must only let pretty people into the place. The tavern was little more than a shack with barstools three deep in front of a simple bar made of a series of varnished two-by-fours held together by nautical hardware. There were small square tables that spilled out onto a deck where at high tide you would feel the splash of a rolling ocean.
    Holding court behind the bar was the owner, named Doobie or, for short, Doob (as in “pass the