On the Edge of the Loch: A Psychological Novel set in Ireland Read Online Free PDF Page B

Very beautiful.’ He handed the book to Tony.
    ‘ This day, in losing and finding you I have become you, and all before the sun ,’ Ravarro recited again. ‘I will remember. I will say to a friend: the loco Irishman, he write this. But when I say to a woman, I say Jorge he write these beautiful words.’
    On no response from Tony except an unbroken stare, Ravarro turned to Eva. ‘Muchacha, adios,’ he said and made to give her a lip kiss. She offered her cheek. He hesitated, then accepted, firing a look at Tony. ‘You watch what you do here, gringo. And you put ice on your temper, eh? Or one day maybe I shoot you.’
    ‘Barrio pig,’ Eva said when he had left. ‘No class, doing a thing like that.’ She approached Tony, arms crossed to opposite shoulders. ‘I told him twice, I told him stop, when he was going through your shit, before you got here, but you know the fuck-ass he is.’
    He remained seated in the chair, said nothing.
    Eva’s expression changed, her arms fell away from her chest. Her well-preserved middle-aged body moved toward him, breasts swaying under her cotton shirt. ‘I said you were very, very, very satisfactory, to all his questions: what you do, your work, all that shit.’
    He ignored her. She moved closer and without warning pulled his head to her breasts. He yanked back. She dropped to her knees in front of him.
    ‘Tony, screw that dickhead wetback. Don’t let him bum you out,’ she said. ‘Snap out of it. You’re too good. Okay?’ With that, her hands were groping at him through his work shorts. He swore, swept her away roughly. She persisted. He sprang up, started to move away. She hooked her fingers into his waistband.
    ‘Y’know I adore you; you’re strong. I watch you on the weight bench all the time.’ He wrenched hard. She held tighter. ‘Y’don’t have to be scared of me, you little shit.’ Her arms encircled him, face jammed to his back, and she groped again at his groin.
    ‘Eva! Lay off!’ He forced open her grip, pushed her away. ‘My letters!’ he said, standing over the bureau. ‘They’re gone! The letters, the papers, where – ’
    ‘Cool it, will you, fuck’s sake. They’re stashed. Real safe. I hid them from Ravarro. See I figured out what you’re scheming, weeks back.’ She spoke now with the conceit of perceived advantage. ‘Junk put away, pictures taken down, shit like that. Figured you were hauling ass.’
    His hand demanded the items.
    ‘Could’ve told him. Be dick deep in shit now, wouldn’t you. Parole violation big time. Bum city, fleeing the jurisdiction, no authorisation.’
    ‘Joel Vida got clearance for me.’
    ‘No shit, Antoin. Fucking Antoin? On your passport, the new one. You a frog now?’
    He demanded again what she had taken.
    ‘I feel for you, Tony. I’m serious. Always did, you know that. I would never never never rat you out. Your shit’s under the locker, safe; y’have to stick your hand under.’
    He lifted the locker aside, grabbed the papers.
    ‘See, I protected you. Wasn’t for me you’d be riding the DOC Cadillac, back to the country club. Soooo.’ She cast off her turban, shook out her hair, and with the confidence of a woman submitted to by men she swaggered toward him.
    ‘Quit it!’ he said, his voice full of threat, trying to push her back. She bored forward, head lowered. ‘Stop it, fuck it!’ he yelled.
    ‘Whyyy!? You don’t have to love me, you jerk.’
    ‘Just quit it, will you. We’re friends.’
    ‘Friends?’ She spit out the word and bulldozed inside his guard. ‘What’s wrong, cat got your dick?’ He forced her head back. Until suddenly she let him go, stepped away, looking upset. ‘I’m sorry, Tony. I’m being very unfair. Amigos always, always amigos. We cool? I apologise. That was wrong of me, I know. You’re a gentleman. I care about you; you know how special you are to me.’ She turned aside, eyes to the floor. ‘I’m a schmuck.’
    He did nothing but observe, realising