The Orchid Eater Read Online Free PDF Page B

could see
a big black van at the bottom of the hill, turning off the Coast Highway. What
if it stopped for them and there was, say, a beautiful blond beach-bunny
driving, and this amazing brunette in a bikini next to her, and they offered
us a ride and we got in and the whole van was packed with these girls, sexy and
horny and just dying to get ahold of a virgin, really show him how it was done.
Of course, they could do stuff with Scott and Edgar, too, that’d be okay, but
mainly—
    The van drew
closer, stopping at the sign across Glen Ellen. It was only then Edgar noticed
it.
    “Holy shit!”
he shouted. “The enemy! Get back, fast!”
    Edgar shoved
them into a hedge. They huddled down and watched the road through the bushes.
    “See this
van?” Edgar whispered. “Burn it into your memory.”
    The huge
black van rumbled past, gathering speed for the climb. It was shiny as a new
hearse, freshly waxed and polished.
     “That’s Sal
Diaz,” Edgar said. “When you see him coming, boys, you’d better get out of the
way. If he pulls over, say you’re not hitching. Whatever you do, don’t get
inside that van.”
    Mike watched
the van heading uphill, toward the ceiling of trees. “Why?”
    “Sal is
lethal. He’s a self-defense instructor, but he only teaches boys, if you know what I mean. Get
in that van with him, he’ll ask if you know how to protect yourself, offer you
some free lessons. Next thing you know, he’s grabbing your cock.”
    Edgar bent
closer, pitching his voice low as if telling a ghost story: “And if you say you
don’t want a lesson, he’ll just pin you down and do it to you then and there.
Right up the ol’ poop-chute.”
    “While he’s
driving?”
    “His boys
chauffeur him around. He’s the most dangerous man in Bohemia Bay, believe me. Hangs out at the Rock Lobster watching the surfers. If he sees someone he
likes, he hunts ’em down and fuckin’ rapes ’em. Course, those surfer jerks
don’t go down without a fight, but Sal likes that. He just sort of toys with
them.”
    Mike crept
cautiously out of the hedge, a bit awestruck to think of such a psycho loose in
Bohemia Bay. He looked after the van, but saw instead an all too familiar
yellow Volvo cruising downhill toward them. It was Jack’s car. He almost jumped
back in the hedge, but the presence of the other two froze him.
    The Volvo
eased to a halt across the street. Jack Harding was driving, Mike’s mother next
to him. “Hey, guys!” Jack called. Mike crossed the street reluctantly. The
other two followed.
    “We were
just up at the house,” Jack said.
    “Roddy and
Nathaniel are all moved out,” said his mom. “Everything’s ready for us. What
are you boys up to?”
    “Oh, uh,
this is Edgar Goncourt. He lives in Shangri-La. He’s going to show me around
the neighborhood.”
    “Edgar?” she
said. “Are you Nan Goncourt’s son, the child psychologist?”
    Edgar
blushed. “Well . . .”
    “How nice to
meet you! Your mother consults for some of the district’s counseling programs.”
    “That’s my
mom,” Edgar said softly, with mixed pride and embarrassment.
    “Have you
seen the house yet?” Jack asked, with explosive heartiness.
    “Only from
the outside,” Mike said.
    “Let me give
you a key.” Even before Mike could answer, Jack was digging into his pocket and
hauling out a ring. “The three of you can take a tour.”
    “Wow, cool,”
Mike said. “You mean we can all go in?”
    “Why not?”
    His mother
said, “The house is so beautiful, you’ve never seen anything like it. I already
know which room Mike will want.”
    “Great,”
Edgar said.
    “You boys
just . . . be careful,” she said in a slightly sterner voice.
“The phones aren’t hooked up yet. I don’t want you in there after dark.”
    “Would it be
all right if Mike stayed at my house tonight?” Edgar asked.
    She looked
over at Jack, who could hardly suppress his grin as he worked the key off the
ring. “Well, there is still a