Nocturnal Read Online Free PDF

effect on every guy she came across, and if I didn’t strike while the iron was hot, I’d be quickly forgotten.
    Ever since college, when I noticed how often I was called man or bud , or sometimes the wrong name altogether, I’d been self-conscious of my ordinariness. There was no denying I’d grown up to resemble every other white dude in America: a fraction under six feet tall, semi-athletic build, light brown hair and medium brown eyes – presentable enough to get a girl’s number, but from there I’d have to be funny, or at least a good listener. There must’ve been hundreds of us walking around the Sacramento State campus: small town guys with names like David (Dave) or Michael (Mike) or Peter (Pete), who sported patchy facial hair and slopped around in cargo shorts and Foo Fighters t-shirts. In hindsight, it was little wonder people got our names mixed up. And now we’d ditched the shorts and keg parties for cheap suits and average wages in the city, making us even more forgettable. So I was under no illusions that a drop dead gorgeous woman like Lucy was lying awake at night, fantasizing about the okay looking young man she’d spoken to for five minutes at a school fundraiser. In fact, I’d be lucky if she remembered me at all.
    Finding a number for Lucy Piper in Granite Bay was easy, and after spending a few minutes questioning my morality – the listing was for Lucy and Sterling Piper – I made the call.
    “You’re a reporter?” she asked after I’d announced himself. “I’m sorry, what’s this about?”
    “I was at the chili cook-off on Saturday. I took your picture.”
    A long pause. “Johnny?”
    “Yes!” I said, thrilled that she’d remembered me by my infinitely cooler pet name.
    “Oh, Johnny. I almost went cross-eyed trying to find your story in the paper. You’re not some sicko with a camera who hangs out at schools, are you?”
    “No, Christ no. My editor pulled the story at the last minute. That’s why I’m calling, to apologize.”
    She sighed. “Well I guess it’s not your fault. I’m sure it happens all the time in your line of work. Thanks for letting me know.”
    “There’s one more thing,” I blurted. “I’d like to give you the photo – it came out really well, and it’d be a shame to waste it.”
    “Oh. Do you want my e-mail address?”
    “No – I took the liberty of making a hard copy. It’s a beautiful shot, and the print really does it justice. I thought we could meet for coffee.”
    I listened to her breathing, heavy and impatient. But she was still on the line . I kept my mouth shut, giving her time to think.
    “You know I’m a married woman,” she finally said.
    I noticed she hadn’t said happily married – wasn’t that the usual phrase? “Of course. I mean, I just presumed. But it’s only a coffee.”             
    Lucy sighed again. “Okay, I’m heading into town tomorrow. I suppose I could meet you then.”
    “Perfect, what time do you–”
    “–I’ll call you at the Tribune. I want to make sure you actually work there.”
    I went and bought a new suit that afternoon – six hundred bucks at the Brooks Brothers outlet store – and spent the evening agonizing over what shirt and shoes to wear. I felt like a teenage virgin on the night before prom. I kept reminding myself that it was only a coffee date, and Lucy was a married woman, but my body wasn’t responding to reason. Just the thought of sitting opposite her made me queasy with excitement.
    Lucy called the next morning to confirm our coffee date. She named a cafe at the far end of town, but I wasn’t about to protest. I made sure I arrived early, and after taking stock of the busy café, secured a prime spot by the window. I wanted to give myself every advantage.
    Lucy breezed in twenty minutes later, wearing a white blouse and a long floral skirt that licked her ankles. She probably thought the demure outfit sent a more appropriate message than the tight dress