Lloyd Corricelli - Ronan Marino 01 - Two Redheads & a Dead Blonde Read Online Free PDF

end up like their friend. Lou, a big goofy kid who worked days at a local gym, appeared ready for action. He was a day late and about five dollars for inflation too short.
    “Whoa, what the fuck happened?” he asked.
    “He tripped, Lou. Why don’t you help him outside, so I can get back to playing?”
    “Uh, yeah sure.”
    The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Lou dragged football boy out the door, leaving a bloody smear on the floor. An overweight, freckle-faced kid with red cropped hair came over and tried to apologize for his friend.
    “Hey, man, I’m sorry. He just had too much to drink. We’ll take him home.”
    “Make sure you get his nose checked,” I said. “It’s probably broken.”
    “Uh, sure. Hey, that was pretty cool. Was that karate?”
    Something told me he was a liberal arts major, just getting by on challenging classes like basket weaving and underwater firefighting. His parents would undoubtedly be shocked someday soon when they realized all the money they had spent on tuition qualified their son to be a used car salesman.
    “Yeah, something like that,” I said.
    He nodded and left, satisfied that he’d met a bonafide apprentice to Bruce Lee. I breathed a sigh of relief over not having to fight a half-ton of stupid.
    “Pretty fancy shooting, Tex. You learn that from some comic book?” Karen asked in her best cornpone western accent.
    “Yup. Wanna’ see my six shooter?”
    “Mmmmmm, promises, promises,” she cooed playfully. “Maybe someone deserves a reward.”
    “Should I bring my posse, ma’am?”
    She leaned in and whispered in my ear, “No, but I’ll be bringing mine.”
    Her play on words started a strange stirring in my utility belt that combined with the smell of her perfume drove me wild. Closing time couldn’t come soon enough.
    Suddenly the shrill of Max’s voice cut destroyed the moment. “Hey, Ronan, I’m not paying you to stand around and try to fuck my waitresses.”
    “I just stopped some college boy from messing around with her,” I shot back.
    “Yeah? Well, I ain’t paying you for that either.”
    “You’re all class, Max,” I said as I made my way back to the stage.
    We launched into the 3 Doors Down version of “Loser,” one of the few songs we knew from the past ten years and probably the most appropriate for the moment. I also had an unexplainable urge for a Wonka Bar.
    The life of an unappreciated hero is not an easy one, but I always found a way to persevere one way or another. The rest of the gig was uneventful and we played on until the wee hours, another night of music for college students to get drunk by.
     
    * * * *
    We finished loading out our gear around one-thirty, and the rest of the band took off for a late-night calorie-fest at Denny’s. I begged off from such culinary delights, because it wasn’t good for my girlish figure. The guys didn’t seem to mind the developing Dunlop syndrome around their waists.
    It was getting chilly, and I could see my breath meaning the temperature had dipped below fifty. Fall would soon give way to winter, my first one back in New England in well over a decade. It was time to go out and buy a couple of snowmobiles to get me through the season. Another mental note, one I was sure to forget until that first snowfall.
    I waited in the alley behind the bar for Karen to come out. Max made the girls clean up, put up stools, and do other tasks that a bar back would perform if he wasn’t so cheap and had hired one.
    A sassy hard-body petite redhead named Cassie exited first. She and I had this harmless little flirting thing going on. Karen didn’t seem to mind and thought it was kind of cute.
    She wore a tight pair of hip-hugger jeans exposing her smooth belly and a white, long sleeve midriff blouse made out of that stretchy Lycra stuff. I could see the outline of her fifty-cent piece areolas perfectly through the fabric. She had a tattoo poking out of the jeans, but I couldn’t make out what it was. If I