SAVANNAH GONE Read Online Free PDF

her.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re into that nonsense.” I knew she was right, but I like being obstinate.
    “I’m a modern woman,” she said. “You, on the other hand, are a Cro-Magnon. You drive an old car, listen to ancient music, you hate technology. Hell, you’d be communicating with smoke signals if you could get away with it.”
    “What can I say? I’m old school.”
    The reality is everything’s disposable these days. But I say fuck newfangled, and to hell with the latest-greatest. The numbskulls who stand in line for days in order to score the latest iPhone, then act like they’ve won the lottery, piss me off. I like things with permanence, things that will last and stand the test of time: historic homes, cars made of steel, music from the legends, my divorce. I could go on, but you know where I’m coming from.
    “Old school my ass,” she said, smiling. “You’re an old fool.”
    “I’m three years older than you.”
    “Quiet. I’m making a point. And the point is this...in life you keep up or get left behind. Now that I think about it, you’re probably the only guy in his forties left on the planet who doesn’t use Facebook. Even the department has a page.”
    “Thanks for the rant,” I said. “Facebook it is.”
    A few minutes later, what’s-his-name brought our lunch. As we ate, Caroline and I slipped into an easy and companionable silence. The food, as usual, was good, and so was spending a little time with her.
    Halfway through the meal, Caroline started stealing my french fries.
    “Why you?” she asked, nibbling on a fry.
    Like most men, I listen fifty percent of the time...maybe. So I did what I usually do when I’m tuned out...I nodded my head and kept on chewing. Caroline must not have heard me nod because she asked it again. “Why you?”
    I looked at her. “What the hell are you doing, speaking Mandarin?”
    “No knucklehead. I’m asking you this...why you?”
    “Why me, what? And stop stealing all my french fries.”
    She snatched another one. “Why you, as in why did Cavanaugh hire you?”
    “Didn’t ask him.”
    “Yeah?” She studied me. “Well, maybe you should.”
    “I’ll think about it.” I slid my plate just beyond her grasp.
    “I’m serious,” she said, straining for another french fry. “You’re a skeptic, a cynic, a wiseass, a hard-ass, and most of all, a royal pain in the ass. You piss everybody off. You break all the rules and half the laws. You, my friend, are not a team player.”
    “Teamwork’s overrated, but I appreciate the pep talk.” I knocked back some of my beer and looked at her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll flop on the floor, curl up in a ball, and suck my thumb.”
    “Think about it,” she said, sounding serious. “Cavanaugh can afford to hire anyone. The man has more money than Midas.”
    “The muffler shop?”
    She laughed once again. I was on fire. I could do no wrong. “King Midas. You know...as in Greek mythology. Everything he touched turned to gold. It was known as the Midas touch.” She swiveled her stool and looked at me. “Let me ask you something. How much time did you spend with Cavanaugh this morning?”
    “I don’t know. Thirty, forty-five minutes, maybe.”
    “And how many times did you piss him off?”
    “Not once.” Unless you counted the time he looked like he wanted to slug me.
    “Look,” she said. “All I’m saying is keep your eyes wide open. He may, and I stress may, want something else from you.”
    “Maybe he wants my business.” I mean my eyes are always wide open, but now they were ready to pop out of my head.
    Caroline smiled. “I know you won a pile when you sued for unlawful termination, but his firm probably has a twenty million buy-in. You didn’t win that much, did you?”
    “Not even close.”
    The Atlanta paper where I toiled for ten years is owned by a large media conglomerate. Cable, internet, newspaper and magazine publishing...the whole enchilada. Angie, my