Work Done for Hire Read Online Free PDF

“Well, I’m not camping. I had enough of that in the army.”
    â€œI’ll give you a credit card. Sleep in motels, eat in restaurants, best you can find out there in the sticks.”
    Steve rubbed his chin. “That piece of crap I’m riding wouldn’t make it to Tallahassee. Need a new bike—and a new gun, more effective than the little peashooter I’m carrying now.”
    He reached into a beach bag and pulled out a fat wallet. “New bike.” He counted out fifteen hundred-dollar bills. “New gun.” Ten more. Then he put the wallet back and pulled out a thick manila folder that had “Dup. Hunter Case File” scrawled on it.
    â€œThank you, Mr. Steinhart.” He stacked the bills together and folded them and put them in his pocket. “You’ve got a deal. Do you have a contract?”
    He smiled. “I don’t like lawyers, either. But if you draw something up, I’ll sign it tomorrow.” He stood up. “And then you’ll be on the road.”
    Steve stood and shook his hand. “You’ve bought yourself the most expensive piece of bait in the state of Florida.”

4.
    K it read the last page and set it on the small stack on the kitchen table in front of her. “Well, I like it so far, Jack. But the movie’s script doesn’t have all that stuff about the marriage and betrayal and all.” She’d taken a copy of the script with her and read it on the plane.
    â€œHe wanted me to give the guy some depth, some history,” I said. “In the movie, he’s just a private dick with a bike.”
    She got up and tousled my hair on the way to the fridge. “Missed your private dick.” She pulled some sandwich stuff out and put it on the counter. “Ham sandwich okay?”
    â€œSounds good.” I watched her being methodical, four pieces of bread lined up along the edge of the cutting board. Mustard on one and three, mayo on two and four; ham slices folded over to precisely fit the bread. My head felt good where she’d rubbed it.
    â€œDecide about the pseudonym?” The contract allowed me to make one up, or not.
    â€œI don’t think I’ll do it. I’m not ashamed of having to work for a living.”
    â€œAre you sure?” She sliced the sandwiches in neat diagonals. “‘Jack, I mean Christian Daley . . . wasn’t he the guy who wrote that awful monster book?’ Not that it won’t be a good book.”
    â€œYou know, that’s part of it? People will expect a piece of shit, and get a decent book. Besides, the movie might be a big hit. Sell millions of copies of the book.”
    She put the stuff back in the fridge. “So then what? You get lots of novelization offers?”
    â€œMaybe a real book or two.” Though in fact I wouldn’t turn down another deal like this. A thousand bucks a day plus a quarter for every copy sold?
    She set the sandwiches on plates and brought them over. “I’ve never been to Daytona Beach. Is there really a house like that?”
    â€œNo, I wouldn’t risk using a real one. But there are plenty equally tasteful. Good sandwich.”
    â€œWe ought to fly down when the snow gets deep. Call it research.”
    â€œWell, not much more of the story takes place there. I had an idea, though, actual research.”
    â€œYou’re gonna go kill a deer and cut it up.”
    â€œHey, I didn’t think of that! Seriously, I want to take a longish bike trip, get a feel for it.”
    â€œHow long? You have snow tires for that thing?”
    â€œJust a couple of weeks. Maybe over to Davenport and down the river a bit. Go through state parks as much as possible, no traffic. Maybe you could join me for a couple of days?”
    She gave me an intense look. “Sure, pedal along through the deserted woods. Miles from nowhere. Why does that creep me out?” But she laughed.
    â€œJust a thought.