About The Book
Links to Purchase
It was almost near high noon on the Fourth of July and already as hot and humid as east Tennessee gets. I’d just turned the air conditioner to frigid and was contemplating going back to bed when a tall intruder pushed open the back door and let it bang against the wall.
“Let the games begin,” he fairly shouted. My restaurant partner and sometimes best friend Ted Weber, all six feet four of him, stood in my doublewide trailer’s kitchen. He was wearing purple plastic flip-flops, cut-off jeans and a tank top that read, ‘Can’t Sleep, Clowns Will Eat Me.’ His thinning hair was slicked back like he’d just gotten out of the shower.
“Ever hear of knocking?” So much for going back to bed. “We’re way past formalities, Claypoole,” Ted said, helping himself to a bottle of Bud from the fridge. “How do you live like this, girl?” Ted made a sweeping gesture at my sink full of unwashed dishes.
“Easy for you to say,” I said, slouching down onto the couch. Ted lived year-round at the Mountaineer Motel in Pigeon Forge with maid service, fresh towels and those little packets of coffee provided daily. That is, when Dorie wasn’t pissed off at him. Dorie was the head housekeeper and she and Ted had a thing going on for years. They seemed to gravitate to one another when either ofthem had a lull in their sex lives. “You going to bring me a beer or what?”
“That’s the spirit,” Ted said, fetching another Bud.
Ted flopped down next to me on the couch and handed me the sweaty beer bottle. He picked up a motorcycle magazine from the coffee table and absently thumbed through it. Lately, I’d been fantasizing about buying a bike, specifically, a brand new Ducati Streetfighter. However, no one in their right mind should spend that kind of money on a toy.
“I had one of these once,” Ted said, pointing out a picture of a vintage Honda.
“Dumped it on a hairpin turn. Burned the skin right off my ass. Lucky I didn’t end up as an organ donor.” Ted tossed down the magazine. “Hey, I picked up fried chicken on the way over. I’m ready to roll when you are.”
I had almost accidentally on purpose forgotten that Ted and I had talked about going tubing on the Fourth of July. I’d been entertaining the notion of other holiday activities like hanging around in my air-conditioned doublewide and working out with my TV remote until I exhausted myself and fell asleep on the couch.
About The Author