Wood's Reef Read Online Free PDF

drive. The entire 120 miles of US1 was a two-lane speed trap. Big Pine Key was the worst at night, with its 35 mph speed limit to protect the Key deer. It was a rare occurrence to drive the stretch of US1 from Key West to Marathon after dark and not encounter at least one cruiser. He’d been taking it easy for that very reason.
    At last call, the lights turned up to full, and the bar began to empty out. The bouncer calling out, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
    Lisa, the barmaid came over to Trufante and took his beer off the bar. “Sorry, babe, got to dump it. You can hang out for a while if you want, but no drinks.” She turned away to start her cleanup routine and Trufante admired the tight cutoff jeans barely covering her thirty-year-old bottom. Maybe he’d get some of that tonight, he thought, his grin widening.
    “Got a pretty good party to hit if you want to hang out.” Lisa was cleaning the bar near him. 
    “Why hell yeah, little girl, don’t have to be back ‘till day after tomorrow. I’m up for some party. Be needin’ a place to crash, though.”
    “No problem,” she said, bumping her butt against him.
    The big white smile got even bigger. Evidently she’d been thinking the same thing. “Lead on.”
    It was almost 4 am when they left the bar, and Duval Street was still packed and rowdy. Drunken catcalls and hoots rang out over the cacophony of music streaming from the open shutters of most bars. 
     
    ***
     
    They walked several blocks to what had to be the gaudiest house on the street. It was an accomplishment to stand out in Key West. Gingerbread moldings hung heavy from most of the Victorian houses, and Caribbean colors were the norm. No muted earth tones here. The lights were all on in the two story Victorian. The house was painted purple with pink trim. The attic window in what could be the third floor glowed with a backlit stained glass pattern of a couple embracing. It was in a modest state of disrepair, common to the party houses. Overgrown landscape partially blocked the walk and drive almost completely hiding a dilapidated detached garage. The white railings were streaked with rust spots from the weather eating away at the old nails. 
    The party was just getting going when they knocked and walked in. The host ran to the door, hands flapping, bells on his slippers ringing. “Lisa love, you made it.” He kissed her on both cheeks and gave her a quick hug. “And, who’s your friend?” he asked, giving Trufante’s long, lean frame the once over. 
    She moved closer to Trufante, as if to protect him from the onslaught she saw coming. “This is Tru. Babe, this is Behzad.” She put her arm around him as she introduced him. “He’s a friend from Marathon.”
    Behzad seemed to get the message and slid across the room to embrace several other guests. 
    “What the hell was that?” Trufante asked. “Never seen an Arab looking gay dude before. I thought they whacked heads off for that.”
    “He calls himself Persian. I think he went to school here and stayed. He’s fun, though, and just wait ‘till you see the stuff he gets.”
    Trufante fingered the lone hundred left from what Mac had given him. He’d been saving it for just that sort of fun. Now he was looking forward to the rush soon to come. 
    The party was just getting into high gear, at about 4:30. Trufante had started to get a buzz on from the coke and ecstasy he’d scored from Behzad. He’d ended up in a group of half a dozen people laying lines out on a mirror, and was now kicking back and enjoying his beer as he listened to the music and chatter of the party. It was the usual Key West mixed bag — you never knew who would show up to these parties. All kinds of folks lived in Key West, and the really interesting ones tended to work the night shift. That meant they came to parties late. He reached for the mirror and laid out the last of his coke. 
    He looked at his host as he handed him the