Truths of the Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

… you’ll probably need
to move to Detroit … long commute otherwise.”
    “This a firm offer?”
    “Yep, we have to get THAX corporate approval, but that's not a
problem.”
    “Hot damn, this is great.”
    “Rachelle would buy into it?”
    “Hell yes, when do we start?”
    “Get this wedding under your belt, honeymoon, then we'll go from there,
we're thinking mid September premiere, get some promotion going.”
    “Hell's fire, yes, playing for keeps, big man.” Carl offered a high
five.
    “You sure it wouldn't be a problem for Rachelle?”
    “Opportunity like that, hell no, ready to go, how much?”
    “Sales Manager figures you'd be a natural at selling, give you a list,
beat the bushes, sell your show, commissions, bonuses, we'll do a package.”
    “Hell's fire, yes!” He high fived Corky again.

 
    ****

 
    Carl and Corky entered Chinatown's Three Dragons' restaurant and, with
a flurry of activity reserved for celebrity, were escorted to a corner booth
where, tucked snugly in, were San Francisco Forty-Niner cheerleaders Debbie and
Dawn. Smiling sweetly, blonde Debbie wore a red mini skirt and Brunette Dawn
wore a similar white dress.
    After Corky introduced Carl, the party of four was visited by owner
Dong Lo. He greeted them, chatted, bought them a first round of drinks,
recommended the sea bass baked in banana leaves with a coconut shrimp and crab
meat stuffing. It was so ordered.

 
    ****

 
    After dinner, two bottles of Dom Perignon, a little past midnight,
Corky invited the ladies to join him and Carl for overtime treats. Arrived at
Corky's opulent Union Square hotel suite, the wine flowed, the music played,
clothes were shed, and the Jacuzzi tub bubbled.
    Soon bored with foreplay, Debbie stepped her six-foot dripping body out
of the bubbling water and, with the long fingernail of her right index finger,
beckoned Carl. Corky sang the Notre Dame fight song. Dawn giggled. Debbie took
Carl by the hand, led him to the bedroom and, as she closed the door, Carl
tackled her to the floor. She whimpered. He ravished her toes crudely then
rolled her over, pulled her into a doggie position, and rammed her. She screamed.
He smacked her rump, said “giddy up,” laughed. She pulled away and turned. He
smacked her face. She whimpered as he picked her up, threw her on the bed, and
presented his largess to her trembling lips.

 
 
 
 

 
 
    CHAPTER SEVEN

 
 
    Rachelle dreamed: Esther II sailed over some frothy wave tossing
never-ending sea. Her father at the helm, he wore a gray sweat shirt with, in
red letters, ytircoidem brazened across the front. He fought with the craft’s
wheel. Water and wind washed over the deck. Then some sagely voice, out of the
wind, droned Maugham's Of Human Bondage words: “In other things, if
you're a doctor or you're in business, it doesn't matter so much if you're
mediocre. You make a living and you get along. But what is the good of turning
out second-rate pictures?”
    A ship’s bell clanged.
    She opened her eyes. The phone ringing, she looked at the digital clock
display. 4:30 A.M. She had an inkling who the ring originator was. She
snapped on the bed side lamp and checked caller ID. Yep.
    Nuzzled up by her head, T.S. opened his eyes then closed them. She picked
up the phone and said sleepily, “Hi.”
    Carl's voice slurred: “Is this Mrs. Carl Bostich?”
    “Carl, it's 4:30 in the morning.”
    “Only 1:30 here.”
    T.S. bolted to the floor and scampered downstairs.
    Carl: “Night`s young, my lady fair.”
    “Carl, have you been drinking?”
    “Never.”
    “Carl, go to sleep.”
    “Ya forgot again.”
    “What?”
    “To turn the answering machine on.”
    Yawning, “Oh rats, darn.”
    “Don't forget … airport tomorrow….”
    “I know, 5:30.”
    “Good girl. I'll wanna get something to eat, then get home and get a
hot bath, you can do my back. And don't forget to paint your toe nails, know
what I mean. Maybe we can have a bottle of