THREE DAYS to DIE Read Online Free PDF

Aaron shook his head and made a face that said Why would anyone want to? It looks disgusting.
          Michael was amused by his reaction. "If you think Sally's looks bad," he said, "wait till you see the cook."
          Aaron laughed a little, and it felt good. Michael felt better, too, having succeeded in lightening the mood.
          "He's actually a nice guy," Michael explained, "and his food is surprisingly good. I say, if you don't get some greasy food in you once in a while – you know, to build your immunity – you'll probably die when you eat some by mistake."
          Aaron laughed at the offbeat logic. "I believe that," he said, nodding.
          Michael went on. "I work from home, so I end up down at Sally's a lot. Sometimes I go to eat ... sometimes just to relax and get away from my work."
          Michael had grown fond of the little diner over the years and to him its faults were its charms. And besides, he couldn't beat the convenience: a two minute walk from his loft – including the elevator ride.
          "I'm surprised you don't weigh 600 pounds," Aaron said candidly, picturing a huge version of Michael bulging over a stool at the counter.
          Michael laughed then smiled to himself as the boy opened up even more. "Lucky for me my metabolism is still cranked," he said. "I hear that once I hit forty, things will slow down, and Sally and I may have to part company."
          Aaron smiled then finished the last few bites of his food with enthusiasm.
          Michael tossed their wrappers in a nearby container and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
          "Listen," he said. "I know I'm just a stranger, and this may sound a bit weird, but what kind of person would I be if I just sent you off into the night? I have the makings for hot chocolate upstairs and I thought you might be thirsty – and I guarantee it will warm you up."
          Aaron thought the hot chocolate idea sounded pretty good. But it was kinda weird. It was bad enough to talk to strangers, but to go home with one? "Thank you," he said, "but I don't think that's a good idea."
          Michael had anticipated Aaron's negative response. "Look," he said, "You have every right to be nervous. But it's okay. I could take a look at those cuts ... and I have an arcade – or we could shoot some pool. Do you like pool?"
          Aaron perked at that. He had always wanted to play pool. His real dad had promised to take him to play at the officer's club when he was old enough.
          Look at your choices, he thought, glancing around again. You can sit here on this bench in this park, exposed to the weather, or a shot in the head; or you can go somewhere warm and drink hot chocolate ... and play pool.
          Michael sensed a shift. "A quick drink to warm you up, some first aid – maybe a game of pool, and you're on your way." He put his hands on his knees and sat up expectantly. "What do you say?"
           Aaron's only other option was to go home and face Tom, and he considered it for a moment. But he decided his bones were bruised enough already and said, "I guess maybe one game wouldn't hurt."
    ---
          The white van was parked near Sally's Diner, across the street from Creek Side Park. Needles and Beeks watched in silence as Michael walked Aaron across the street on their way to his loft.

Chapter 8
    The Perfect Gentleman
          Willy Abbott jumped off his bike and bounded up the steps to Aaron's apartment – leaving his beach cruiser to ghost down the block a few yards, where it bounced off a bus bench and crashed to the sidewalk.
          Fortunately for Willy, Tom had long since passed out, and Aaron's mom answered the doorbell. Willy did a double take – he hadn't seen Aaron's mom in a while and had forgotten how pretty she was. He noticed a bruise below her right eye that she'd obviously tried to cover with makeup.
          "Hello, Mrs. Quinn," he said. "Aaron's not