Take a Chance on Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

be life's finest physical sensation. It was a piece of pure triumph—a moment of unadulterated whoop-ass.
    And by God, he'd had few enough of those lately.
    "Your music selection is giving me a migraine, Tobin." Chick's announcement came in his customary West Virginia twang. "Haven't you got any normal music—like Garth or Shania or something?"
    "My house, my tunes," Thomas said, stacking his chips in neat, color-coded piles. "Besides, Coltrane is food for the soul. You want to listen to hillbilly drivel, then hold poker night at your place."
    Chick shook his head. "Right. That would be a ripsnortin' good time, I'm sure." He took a swig of beer.
    "I'm lucky just to escape the spouse and spawn one night a month to come here."
    "I hear you, man," Rollo said, chuckling. "If we did this at my place, we'd be listening to Barney's Greatest Hits."
    "Thomas's music taste is eclectic," Manny offered.
    "It sucks," Paulie said.
    "What do you expect from four cops, a lawyer, and a urologist? We never agree on jackshit," Rollo said.
    Thomas shuffled the deck and called for five-card stud. "You know, gentlemen, there's really only two kinds of music in the world."
    "Christ, here we go," Stephano muttered, rolling his eyes.

    "Good music and bad music," Thomas continued, taking a slow, sensual puff of his cigar and placing it in an ashtray to his left. He began to deal. "The majority of popular music today is total crap—the fast food of song—no nourishment, no soul, no meaning, no art. It's just a way to funnel more money to the one or two remaining international media conglomerates and pay for the Backstreet Boys to go to rehab."
    Stephano groaned and got up from the table. "Beer run. Anybody want anything?"
    "I'll help," Chick offered.
    Paulie stood up and stretched. "I'm going to hit the john."
    "Me, too," Manny said, following him.
    Rollo shook his head slowly and chuckled, watching his best friend and brother-in-law deal the cards to empty chairs. "You sure know how to clear a room lately, man."
    Rollo studied Thomas. He watched him finish the deal and take another puff, squinting in concentration as he spun the cigar between long fingers.
    Rollo wouldn't come right out and say anything, but the truth was, Thomas worried the hell out of him.
    Thomas had been through so much this last year, and he'd made it through in one piece. But he'd changed. Shut down. And he and Pam were really starting to wonder if he'd ever snap out of it.
    "How are the boys?" Thomas asked.
    "Great. They miss you."
    Thomas nodded silently.
    True, Thomas had never been the world's most outgoing guy. Even in college he'd been kind of quiet, but still managed to crack everyone up with his dead-on, dry observations. The girls didn't seem to mind that he was reserved. It must have added to his mystique, because females were always hanging around the fraternity house or the rugby pitch just to get a peek at him.
    The guys at Theta Chi soon decided Thomas was like the house bug light, luring girls in droves, and started calling him "Zapper." Thomas thought it was funny back then. Not anymore. He didn't think anything was funny anymore.
    "Pam still working part-time?" Thomas asked.
    "Yep. Three half-days a week."
    Just look at him—he'd basically gone into hiding. If it weren't for poker night, rugby, and his medical checkups, Rollo would never even see him. No matter how many times Pam invited him over to the house he always said he had to work.
    That was a big part of what put him in such a rotten state of mind—Thomas's work. The sick mothers he met every day just gave him an excuse to keep his distance from people. Thomas used to talk about getting out of law enforcement and teaching and coaching rugby instead, but the last time Rollo tried to bring it up, Thomas changed the subject.
    And God—the day he finally got the guts to suggest Thomas look into treatment for depression, he'd nearly been beheaded.

    Rollo didn't know how to talk to him anymore. It was