When the Fairytale Ends Read Online Free PDF Page A

of apprehension.
    Greg figured that the salesman was probably scared that he would renege on the deal since his spokesperson had left the scene. But he wasn’t going to renege. He liked this bike, and he liked how it made him feel. Even if Shania was pissed at him and gave him the silent treatment for a while, he could only hope that eventually she would understand that this was something he felt he needed to do for himself.
    â€œThis is a new bike, right?” Greg questioned.
    â€œYes, sir,” Kyle said and nodded his head so much that he almost looked like one of those bobblehead toys.
    â€œNever been driven?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œOkay.” Greg sat back on his haunches and pulled at his chin hair. He knew if Franklin was here and heard what he was about to say, he’d probably go into cardiac arrest. But Franklin wasn’t here. He was too busy playing knight in shining armor to Sister Catherine. “Well, let’s skip the test drive. I mean, it’s not like I’m buying it as is, so if something goes wrong with it, you guys’ll have to fix it.”
    Kyle’s green eyes might as well have been dollar signs. Greg half expected the young guy to jump in the air and clap his feet together. But within seconds, Kyle regained his professional composure and tried his best to repress his glee as he complimented him on his choice. He took Greg to his office, and they finalized the paperwork. They shook hands, and Greg felt excited that his dream had come true. The anticipation of riding his brand-new bike made him feel as eager as he had the day he got his driver’s license when he was a teenager.
    He clutched the keys in his hand like he had been given a precious gem and allowed his excitement to overshadow any apprehensive thoughts.
    The salesman continued, “Thank you for doing business with us, Mr. Greg Crinkle, and your ride is ready and waiting for you.”
    The corners of Greg’s mouth curled upward as he shook the salesman’s hand with his free hand, securing the deal.
    In need of a helmet, he went to a different section of the store and browsed the various helmets. A woman with big brown and blond curly hair, and brown doe eyes that seemed too big for her face, browsed the helmets as well. He wondered if she rode a bike; she wasn’t wearing biker gear. There was no possible way that she could ride a bike in pants that tight. And, boy, were those pants tight. It looked like she had put them on with a paintbrush. She glanced over at him, caught him staring, and he quickly averted his eyes. A glossy black helmet with a red design caught his eye, so he picked it up.
    â€œI like that one too,” she said and stepped close enough to him that he could smell the fragrance of her perfume. A floral sweetness, not too strong, but not too subtle, either.
    As she stared at his face, her glazed lips formed a perfect O. “Minister Crinkle?”
    Hearing her call him “minister” took him by surprise, especially since he was the youth pastor, not the pastor of the church. He stared at her long and hard, trying to place her face, but he knew for a fact that if he had seen a face like hers in the sanctuary, he would’ve remembered.
    â€œYes, that’s me.” He nodded. “And you are?”
    She held out her hand. “Kristen.”
    He shook her offered hand, and her palm felt soft and warm. When he tried to let go of her hand, she kept holding on to his.
    â€œI haven’t lived here in years, just in Georgia visiting family. My mother goes to Saved and Sanctified Baptist Church, and she insists that anybody staying under her roof, whether living there or otherwise, goes to church. I went on Sunday, and I saw you there. You’re over the youth, right?”
    Wearing a look of pride, Greg nodded. “Yeah, I am. If you’re still in town on the fifth Sunday of this month, you should come. Fifth Sundays are youth Sundays,