The 51st Thursday Read Online Free PDF Page A

to yourself when you say you don't want me. You do want me. I've seen it in your eyes. You kissed me first, remember? You begged me for release before I ever touched you. And now your body wants more. You want me to take you to my bed over there and peel those jeans off you. You want my hand on your cock and my tongue in your ass. You're sitting there with that magnificent cock jutting above your waistband you want me so bad. Admit it."
    "I won't admit a damned thing." He shifted on the stool in obvious discomfort, his jaw rigid. Pain, sharp and jagged filled his eyes, and Deacon knew he'd gone too far.
    "Okay, Thursday, you win. No more sex talk. Here, have another burger." Deacon slathered mustard on two more burgers and handed him one. "I'm not sure when the next hot meal will be so go ahead and eat. I'm not going to bother you."
    He grabbed his plate and a couple of beers and went over to the sofa. He dropped onto it and propped his feet up on the coffee table to stare at the lifeless television. Electric candlelight danced around him from every surface, casting shadows on the wall. He laid his plate on his belly and picked up the book he left tucked between the cushions and pretended to read. The wind howled outside, slashing rain at the shutters, rattling the windows only to stop just as suddenly as it came up. The nonstop hurricane talk on the radio began to rattle his nerves as the silence stretched between them.
    "I loved my wife. Her name was Holly. We grew up together, you know," he said a little while later, his rough voice echoing in the room. "She was my high school sweetheart. My first, my only, really, for a long time. We broke up in college, and I played around but never all the way. She followed me to law school and we got married. She wanted a baby but I was too focused on my career. We didn't see each other much and then on our fifth anniversary she told me she was pregnant."
    "Scared the shit out of you, didn't it? I remember when my wife told me the first time. I was twenty-one and fresh home from Kuwait."
    "Is that where you got that scar?" Thursday stepped over the back of the sofa, his feet bare, and sat cross-legged on the far end facing him.
    "Christmas 1990, Desert Storm, almost ended my life. I joined the Marines when I was fresh out of high school and a little over a year later I was getting shot at by a bunch of kids with fucking AK-47s. One of the little fuckers... Well god damn but they were kids, you don't expect to have to kill a ten-year-old."
    "Did you?"
    "No, I was too busy bleeding in the sand. Nearly died of infection and then it was all over. I came home, married the first girl I fucked, and went back. Came home to be a daddy, we divorced while she was pregnant with our second. She cheated. It wasn't pretty. She told me neither kid was mine. It got nasty. In the end, they both are mine and that's all that matters. My oldest just started up at Alabama and my son is on the football team across the bay. What happened to your wife, Thursday?"
    "Car accident last Halloween. She went into labor. On the way to the hospital we were T-boned by a drunk in a Jason mask. Or that's what I was told. I don't remember any of it. When I woke up, they'd already buried her and the baby. On Thursday, I checked myself out of the hospital and took a cab home. I probably should have stayed another week. We lived down the street in a studio. Bet you I drove past this building a million times but that was the first day I saw the bar. I couldn't stand being home so I came here."
    "Probably not the smartest choice to make with your side split open like that." Deacon remembered the story now; it had made national news. The tragic Halloween night accident that nearly took the life of former Alabama quarterback and senator's son, and the loss of the daughter-in-law and grandchild had nearly devastated Senator Bainbridge. "Your dad is going to run for president next year, isn't he?"
    "Yes." Thursday looked away.