ANGELABy Rex Kusler Smashwords EditionCopyright 2010 Rex Kusler Smashwords Edition, License NotesThis ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-soldor given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re readingthis book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then youshould return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respectingthe hard work of this author.
JUNE 1968
CHAPTER 1Lumbering along the carpeted hallway past the customer lounge, Pete Buck offereda grin and a nod to the plump, middle-aged brunette sitting behind the counter. Shewatched him pass, her face expressionless, then gave a sigh and returned her gaze to themagazine lying open on her lap.He stopped in front of the open doorway, raised the can of Coke he’d been holdingat his side to his bloated face and took a swallow, his hand trembling. “Bob said youwanted to see me?” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe.The gray-haired man behind the desk, wearing a starched short-sleeve white shirt,loosened his tie slightly and looked up from the papers in front of him. Frowning, hiseyes tired, Carl Martindale studied the tall slender man who filled the doorway. Hisshaggy blonde hair that covered his ears and forehead, the wrinkled tan corduroys and blue shirt, the burgundy tie angled over his pocket. Carl nodded. “Sit down. Shut thedoor.”Pete hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the office, and lowered himself reluctantly onto the plastic seat of the armless chair. He set the Coke can on the floor,leaned forward slightly, his shoulders slouching, his hands hanging like dead fish between his legs.
The words came calmly and evenly out of Carl’s mouth, but ripped through Pete’sinsides like an exploding mortar round. “I’m going to have to let you go.”Pete’s mouth opened to let in a short breath, his glassy eyes grew large. “Why,Carl?”“I’ve warned you twice now about those Coke cans. For chrissake, everybody cansmell it on you…”His mouth suddenly feeling like the inside of a damp glove, Pete raised his sweatinghands, palms up in front of him. “I haven’t been drinking that much. Maybe a little, butit’s not like it was.”“It’s worse, Pete. It is WORSE! It has affected your mood to the point whereyou’re outwardly hostile to everyone, especially the customers, and it gets worse as theday wears on. I’ve had too many complaints; you’re losing business for us. I have nochoice.”“I can get some help,” he pleaded. “I can go to AA.”“You said that last time.”“This time I will,” he insisted. “Carl, please. I’ve had problems. The divorce, thechild support payments. I don’t have any money, Carl. I’ve got less than three hundreddollars to my name. What am I gonna do?”Carl sighed and shook his head. “That is not my problem. This is not socialservices, this is a car dealership. We sell cars here.”“I can quit drinking, I swear.”“Yeah, you swear alright. No doubt. I don’t think the alcohol is the problem withyou. It just let’s everything out. Man, you are bottled up with anger and rage—justwalking around looking for any excuse to unload it on anybody who is unlucky enough tosay the wrong thing at the wrong time.” Carl leaned back in his stuffed chair. He pickeda loose pen up off of his desk and began to fumble with it in his lap. “Well…anyway.”He reached over to the top side drawer with his left hand, opened it and withdrew a whiteenvelope with Carl Martindale Chevrolet printed across the upper left corner of it. Heleaned forward and handed the envelope to Pete. “There’s a little extra in there; you’recovered to the end of the month, plus a few hundred more. Try a different city. MaybeDes Moines.”Pete grabbed the envelope and stood up. He glared down at the man and snorted.“Yeah, right. Try sticking it up your ass!” He stumbled toward the door, knocking thechair over with his leg, stormed out of the office, and slammed the door shut behind him.“Goddamn bastards,” he muttered.* * *“Would one of you damsels like a ride home?” Johnny Buck coasted to within tenfeet of the three girls from his swimming class and slammed the right pedal backwardslocking the rear wheel of his single-speed Murry into a skid that managed to produce athin patch of black rubber three feet long. The two girls who were the object of his pursuit, Carol Petrie and Susan Greiner, were the cutest in his grade; with perfectly proportioned features, prominent cheekbones and trim figures, they were adequatesubstitutes for Betty and Veronica whom Johnny always lusted over every time he pickedup an Archie and His Pals comic book. Though at eleven years of age, the skinny tow-head wasn’t really sure what lust was or where it came from, he had no intention of
waiting for the defining urges to develop before making his move. And this was the perfect opportunity.Carol and Susan had moved to the grass bordering the sidewalk to let the boy passwithout running into them—just in case his skid was poorly timed. The third girl, JulieAnderson, held her ground and continued on without breaking stride. But she did turnher head toward Johnny to offer a smile that started with her full lips and extended to her big brown eyes. “I’d like a ride,” she said.Ignoring her, Johnny dismounted from his bicycle, swinging his right leg around itas if he were a cowboy arriving at the hitching post preparing to ease through theswinging doors of a saloon. Johnny considered Julie of no consequence. An innocent bystander, she just happened to be there taking up space next to the prospective targets of his affections. Julie was a nice girl, but her face wasn’t appealing. It was round and flat,with a large nose, and her shoulder-length brown hair was seldom combed. On top of that, she was knock-kneed and her butt was too big. Johnny considered her much like atree growing in the middle of the side walk—something that was just in the way.He turned his attention to Carol and Susan, keeping his voice as steady and calm as possible, though he was nervous and slightly out of breath. “You couldn’t use a ride? It’s pretty hot today, the breeze will cool you off, keep your makeup from running.”“We’re not wearing any makeup,” Carol said. “We only live a block and a half from here. Besides your bike rack doesn’t look too comfortable.”“Why don’t you give Julie a ride,” Susan suggested. “She has a long walk. Shelives a half a mile away.”“I’d like a ride, Johnny,” Julie said.Johnny considered his predicament. This was a delicate situation. If he declined togive Julie a ride and simply rode away, the two girls would realize his offer was ashallow attempt to put the moves on them. They would consider him a scoundrel.Diplomacy was needed here. He looked at Julie out of the corner of his eye. “Okay,” hesaid. “Get on.”She put her rolled-up swimsuit and towel in his front basket and climbed on the back. With her feet perched on the rear wheel studs and her hands gripping his hips, thetwo of them pedaled away. They crossed the highway and cruised along in silence pastthe Hogue house, where Mrs. Hogue was bent over in her front yard, digging a hole witha small hand shovel for a potted bush that sat a few feet away. She looked up and gaveJohnny a wave. “How were swimming lessons today?”“Oh, not bad.” Johnny muttered.“Do you have enough energy left to mow my lawn sometime today?” she asked.“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow. Don’t want it to get too high.”“No problem,” Johnny said. He wondered why Mr. Hogue never mowed it. Johnnyhad never seen him doing anything in the yard. In fact, the only part of their yard he ever used was the sidewalk; getting to and from the family car.Johnny was pondering this when a small voice directly behind his head broke intohis thoughts. “Did you hear about Reverend Davis and Mrs. Fisher?”“What about ‘em?”“I heard Mr. Fisher came home sick in the middle of the afternoon and caught themin the bedroom together without any clothes on.”
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