Merlot Read Online Free PDF

Lucerne’s chest.
    ***
    It wasn’t the first time Daphne had been
disconnected today. That was just an occupational hazard. But she
had just finished telling the familiar voice she was wearing a
black baby-doll nightie, thinking she’d have him for at least
another ten minutes. The timing seemed unusual.
    She adjusted her headset, brushed the sugared
crumbs off the front of her T-shirt, stuffed the better part of
another jelly doughnut into her mouth, and clicked onto the next
line.
    “Hey there, this is Tracey,” Daphne said,
taking a hearty second bite before cooing. “Well, what do you think
I’m doing baby? I’ve been waiting for your call, tell me your name
again, honey, I love the way you say it.”
    * * *
    “This is Merlot.”
    “Hi, Tony.”
    It was Cindy’s voice and he straightened the
moment he heard it.
    “I just wanted to thank you again for the
really nice night. It was fun getting to know you,” she finished
with a sipping sound.
    “Yeah? I’m really glad you came over, Cindy,”
meaning it.
    After too long a pause she added,
    “Well, that’s all I wanted to say. I had a
great time, thanks and be sure to come to my window if you’re ever
in the bank again.”
    “Yeah I’ll be sure to do that. Appreciate the
call. Look, I still owe you dinner. I know you’re working tomorrow,
but if you could swing by about 9:00, after our rush here, we could
have some time to really talk. Maybe just the two of us,” he added,
hoping she’d ditch wet blanket Karen.
    “Tomorrow? Umm, I think I’ve got something
going, but let me try and cancel it. I’ll see you at, what, 9:00
you said?” she sipped again.
    “Yeah.”
    “Okay, bye, bye.”
    He thought what in the hell did I do that
for? Christ, thinking with the wrong head.
    Mmm-mmm, Cindy thought. She sat crossways on
an over stuffed chair and sipped her glass of wine. It wasn’t a
merlot, it was a shiraz, but she closed her eyes and pretended all
the same.
    * * *
    It had been a very, very long day at the
fair. Sixteen hours in fact, and Otto O’Malley felt like telling
the woman at his stand to drop dead. By the looks of her she was
half way there. He kept that thought to himself, attempted to
smile, the consummate professional. He took her money in exchange
for one of his Deep-Fat-Fried-Bacon-on-a-Stick.
    He knew instantly the old bag had never been
the adventurous sort. She didn’t go for the hickory, maple, or his
new introduction, Cajun Bar-B-Que.
    “Thank you, ma’am,” he smiled.
    His smile always came across as a sneer,
unless the woman happened to be good looking. Then it came across
as a half sneer, half leer, with a slight reptilian flick of the
tongue across his upper lip. This old bat just got the sneer as his
fingers snatched her five-dollar bill.
    “Excuse me, but my change?” She stepped back
to read Otto’s sign featuring a neon pink pig in a swimsuit
roasting in a lounge chair. The swimsuit pulled down to show just a
hint of his butt crack, the kids loved that part.
    “Oh, change, didn’t I give it to you?” he
stalled, a slim outside chance at this point.
    “No, you did not.”
    “Oh, sorry about that, it’s been a long day,”
he added, not the least bit sorry.
    He had five Deep-Fat-Fried-Bacon-on-a-Stick
stands scattered across the fairgrounds. Each one situated beneath
the neon pink pig in the swimsuit.
    He had schemed, scammed, and labored for over
thirty-five years to get a stand at the fair, surviving some
colossal failures along the way. There was the BBQ Cauliflower on a
stick, the Turtle on a Stick, and who would ever forget his poorly
received Cone of Sauerkraut, just to name three. None of them met
with the sort of success he was looking for, but he’d learned from
his mistakes.
    All that occurred before he read a book on
simplicity. That got him thinking why the hell not? So he divorced
his wife and came up with Deep-Fat-Fried-Bacon-on-a-Stick The rest
was simple, high calorie, artery-clogging