The Heart Goes Last Read Online Free PDF

he says, grinning. “How’re you keeping?” He steps forward, arms wide, and they do an awkward version of the hug-and-back-pat thing.
    “I brought him here,” says the scrawny man. “You told me to watch the house.”
    “Good job, Herb,” says Conor. “Talk to Rikki, he’ll give you something.” The guy shambles off. “Brain-dead fuck. Let’s have a beer,” Conor says, and they go into one of the trailers. An Airstream: high end.
    It’s surprisingly cool and clean in the main room. Conor hasn’t fouled it up: no contemptuous garbage or in-your-face crotch-grabbing rock posters, unlike Con’s teenaged bedroom. Stan used to defend him, stick up for him to the parents, claim he’d straighten out. Maybe not such a bad thing that he hasn’t. At least he seems to have a source of income, and a good one judging from the results.
    Pale grey decor, small aluminum cubes of hi-tech placed discreetly here and there, window curtains, good taste: does Con have a woman around, is that it? A tidy woman, not a slut. Or is he just making a bundle? “It’s nice,” Stan says ruefully, thinking of his own cramped, smelly car.
    Con goes to the fridge, produces a couple of beers. “I’m making do,” he says. “How about you?”
    “Not so good,” says Stan. They sit at the built-in table, upending the beers.
    “Lost your job,” says Con after the right amount of silence. It’s not a question.
    “How’d you know?” says Stan.
    “Otherwise why come looking for me?” says Con in a neutral voice. There’s no point denying it, so Stan doesn’t.
    “I wondered maybe,” he says.
    “Yeah, I owe you,” says Con. He stands up, turns his back, rummages in a jacket that’s hanging on the door. “Couple of hundred do you for now?” he says. Stan grates out a gruff thank-you, pockets the bills. “Need another job?”
    “Doing what?” says Stan.
    “Oh, you know,” says Con. “This and that. You could keep track of stuff. Like, money. Take it offshore for us. Stash it here and there. Make us look respectable.”
    “What’re you up to?” says Stan.
    “It’s cool,” says Conor. “Nothing dangerous. Custom stuff. On order.”
    Stan wonders if he’s stealing artwork. But where would there be any of that around here any more? “Thanks,” he says. “Maybe later.” He has no real wish to work for his little brother, even in a safe way. It would be like family welfare. Now that he has a bit of cash and some breathing room, he can look around. Find something decent.
    “Any time,” says Con. “You need a phone or anything? Fully loaded. Good for maybe a month, if you’re careful.”
    Why not have a second phone? That way, Charmaine and he can phone each other. While the top-up lasts. “Where’d you get it?” says Stan.
    “Don’t worry, it’s wiped,” says Con. “Can’t be traced.”
    Stan slips the phone into his pocket. “How’s the wife?” says Con. “Charmaine?”
    “Good, good,” says Stan.
    “I bet she’s good ,” says Con. “I trust your taste. But how is she?”
    “She’s fine,” says Stan. It’s always made him nervous when Con took an interest in a girl of his. Con thought Stan should share, willingly or unwillingly. A couple of Stan’s girls had agreed with him on that. It still rankles.
    He wants to ask Con for a firearm of some sort to thwart the nighttime thugs – but he’s in a weak position. “You were crap with the Nerf gun, you’d shoot your foot off.” Or worse: “What’ll you trade me? Time in the sack with the wife? She’d enjoy it. Hey! Joke!” Or: “Sure, if you come work for me.” So he doesn’t try.
    The two guards walk Stan back to his car. They’re much friendlier now, they even stick out their hands for a shake. “Rikki.”
    “Jerold.”
    “Stan,” says Stan. As if they don’t know.
    As he’s getting into his car, another car pulls up in front of the trailer-park entrance; a fancy hybrid, black and sleek, with tinted windows. Con has some