The Maine Events

by Rodney Riesel

  “Sorry about that,” Allen said to the guy. “I dozed off and he made a run for it.”

  “No problem,” the man replied, watching his son run after Frankie. “As long as the dog keeps him entertained, I don't have to.”

  “I guess I should be charging you for babysitting.”

  The guy chuckled. “Probably.”

  Allen looked back over his shoulder to make sure no one had run off with his towel.

  “Didn't even check into our motel yet,” the man commented.

  “What's that?”

  “We pulled into the parking lot, and my wife said she wanted to hit the beach first. Haven't even seen our room yet.”

  “Are you staying at the Sunrise?” Allen asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “That's where I am,” said Allen. He held out his hand. “Allen Crane.”

  The guy shook. “Mike Penn. Here with the family?” The guy looked in the direction Allen had come from.

  “Nope. All by myself.”

  “You lucky bastard,” said Mike.

  Allen laughed. “Well, I'll be right over there,” he said, pointing. “If you get sick of the dog, just holler.”

  “You got it, Allen, and it was nice meeting you.”

  Allen returned to his towel. He watched Frankie run around with his new found friend for a while, and then his attention was diverted by a couple of twenty-somethings wearing thong bikinis. One girl's was yellow, the other's was blue.

  Just as Allen's eyes focused on blue bikini's butt, he heard a voice behind him.

  “See something you like?”

  Allen felt like he had just been caught with his hand in the thong jar. His heart skipped a beat. “W-what?” he asked, his head spinning around. “I, uh … I—”

  Mya had a big grin on her face. “Calm down, Crane,” she said. “I'm just playing with you.”

  “You scared me.”

  “I bet I did. All those nasty thoughts going through your head.”

  “There were no nasty thoughts,” Allen argued.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Allen scooted over, and patted the towel. “Have a seat.”

  Mya took him up on his offer. “Which one you like best?” she asked. “Blue, or yellow?”

  “I don't know.”

  “I like blue. Yellow's got some cellulite thing going on in the upper thigh area, right below the butt cheek.”

  “Wow.”

  “You saying you didn't notice?”

  “I noticed, but I wouldn't have said anything.”

  “What a nice guy.”

  “I try. So, what brings you by this morning?”

  “I was walking to work, and I thought I'd just drop in and say hi.”

  “I was going to text you.”

  “I know you were,” said Mya. “What time did you settle on?”

  “Three.”

  “That's pretty good. It wouldn't have been too soon, and not so long that I would have gotten pissed.”

  “How did you know I chose an exact time?”

  “All men do.”

  “And here I thought I was an original.”

  “Nope. You all set a time to call or text, and you all sit and stare at twenty-somethings in thongs.”

  “I wasn't staring.”

  “It's your story. Stick with it.”

  “How did you know I was down here at the beach?”

  “I saw your little friend in the parking lot. He said he saw you and Frankie walk down here.” Mya looked around. “Where's Frankie?”

  Allen pointed. “Playing Frisbee with that kid over there. So, you're working tonight?”

  “Yep. Tonight and tomorrow night.”

  The two girls in thongs walked past them, on their way back to their spot on the beach. Allen made sure not to notice. He knew Mya would probably be watching for any eye movement or the slightest of head turns.

  “When's your next night off?” Allen asked.

  Mya glanced upward in thought. “I have Sunday evening off, and Wednesday evening off. I have all of Thursday off. Why, Allen, were you thinking about asking me out again?”

  “I was.”

  “It'll have to be Sunday or Thursday.”

  “Or both?”

  “Or both.” Mya leaned over and kissed Allen on the cheek. “I better get going. Some of us have to work.” She stood.

  “Frankie and I'll probably stop in for a late lunch today, if you don't mind.”

  “I don't mind at all.”

  Allen stood up as well. “I'll walk you to the seawall?”

  As the couple walked past the thong twins Mya said, “Ladies.”

  They both looked up at her and smiled.

  “Really?” Allen said.

  “Just wanted them to know I saw them,” Mya said.

  “I don't even know how to respond to that.”

  Mya chuckled.

  At the top of the seawall Allen said, “You have fun at work.” He leaned in for a kiss.

  “And you have fun writing, or whatever you plan on doing today.” She pecked him on the lips.

  “Mostly writing, and I'm out of dog food, so it looks like I'll also be making a trip to the grocery store.”

  “Sounds like a fun-filled day.”

  “I had a really nice time last night.”

  “So did I, Allen.” Mya kissed him again, lingering a smidge longer. “I'm looking forward to spending some more time with you.”

  “Me too.”

  Mya turned and hurried down the sidewalk. She looked back once, after walking a good twenty yards, just to see if Allen was still watching. He was. She gave him a little smile and wave. He did the same.

  Allen took a deep breath and sighed. He knew the next eight days would probably sail by pretty quickly. He turned and stared out over the dark, damp, sandy beach. Eventually his eyes went to Frankie, still frolicking in the sand with his new best friend.

  I should buy a kid for that dog, Allen thought.

  He glanced over at his lone towel, stretched out and lying there peacefully. He looked down at the thong twins, and back at his towel. Allen was done on the beach. He'd had enough sun and sand. Also, speaking with Mya had given him an idea for something in the book. He wanted to get back to his laptop. He could yell for Frankie, but then there was still the problem with the towel. If he did go back for the towel, he could take one last quick look at the thong twins. But was it worth it? The motel has a million towels, they probably won't miss one. Allen's eyes drifted from the towel, to Frankie, to the thongs, and back.

  “Frankie!” Allen hollered. “Let's go!”

  Frankie froze. His head whipped around. He spotted Allen and was off, not even telling his playmate goodbye.

  Good boy, Allen thought. You ain't shit, kid. That's my dog.

  Frankie bounded up the seawall steps and came to a stop at his master's feet.

  “Were ya having fun?” Allen asked.

  Frankie barked.

  “I gotta get back to that keyboard, pal. Come on.”

  Allen and Frankie crossed the street and the parking lot. Donnie wasn't in his chair. It was one of the few times Allen had seen the chair empty. He side-stepped to Donnie's door and gave it a rap.

  “Just a second,” Donnie sang out from somewhere inside.

  Allen gave Frankie a look.

  The door opened.

  “Hey, Blue Eyes,” Donnie said with a grin. He craned his neck to see past Allen. “I was expecting someone else.”

  “Oh, okay. I was just making sure—never mind.”

  “Blue Eyes, were you checking in on me to see if I was alright?” Donnie asked.

  “Well, you weren't out here, so, ya know, you had the trouble with those guys the other night. So, just checking.”

  “That's sweet, Blue Eyes. Thank you.”

  “Don't mention it,” Allen said, waving him off. “Who are you expecting?”

  Donnie scanned the area for eavesdroppers. “Well, I met someone last night, and he's co
ming over.”

  “Last night? You were sitting out here last night. How did you meet someone?”

  “I drove over to the grocery store after I spoke with you.”

  “And you bought a guy in the produce section?”

  Funny, Allen, but no. I met him in the checkout line.”

  “See that, you didn't even need a wing man.”

  “I guess I just needed to get back on the horse,” Donnie said, leaning in and placing his hand alongside his mouth. “And I will be getting back on the horse, if ya know what I mean.”

  “A little too much information, Donnie,” Allen said. He turned back toward the office door. “Just keep it down—remember, I'm right above you.”

  “I ain't making any promises.”

  Allen went through the office door. Crystal was standing behind the desk.

  “Hey, Crystal,” Allen said. “Ya think I could get a couple more towels? I think that girl shorted me one.”

  “Sure. No problem,” Crystal replied. She turned and went through the door behind her. When she returned she was holding a stack of three bath towels. “Here ya go. I'll have a word with the housekeeper.”

  “Thanks,” Allen said, taking the towels. “Good help is hard to find these days.”

  Back outside, he looked down at Frankie's judgmental eyes. “Oh, shut up, dog,” he said. “It's just a towel.”

  At the top of the stairs Allen pulled open the door and Frankie ran through. Someone was sitting in one of the chairs in front of Allen's picture window. The young man slouched in the chair. The slouching, along with the expression on his face when he saw Allen coming down the walkway, gave the man an air of arrogance. He looked familiar, but Allen didn't recognize him right away. He was wearing his street clothes this time.

  “Mr. Crane,” said Officer Jim Tucker.

  “Officer Tucker,” Allen replied.

  “Just call me Tuck,” Tucker said.

  “Then you can call me Cray.”

  “What's that?”

  “Nothing.” Allen lifted his doormat and removed the key. “So, what brings you to my humble abode?” He slid the key into the lock and turned.

  “Just checking up on you,” said Tucker.

  Allen pushed open his door and went inside. “Checking on me?” he asked.

  Tucker followed Allen inside. “Just seeing how things are going.”

  “Things are going fine.” Allen went into the bathroom and placed the towels on a shelf. When he walked back into the room he asked, “What kind of things?”

  “Oh, you know, things.” With his fingertips, Tucker moved some papers around on Allen's table, next to his laptop. “Getting a lot of writing done?”

  “Better than average. No work today? Have all of the crimes in the area been solved?”

  “Day off.” Tucker turned the laptop so he could see the screen.

  Allen reached out and closed the device.

  “You weren't so touchy the other day,” Tucker observed.

  “I hadn't made any progress the other day. And maybe I've grown a lot touchier since then.” Tucker snorted soundlessly. “What's it about?” He returned the laptop to its original position.

  “A writer on vacation in Maine.”

  Tucker sent Allen a sly grin. “Kind of like you're a writer on vacation in Maine.”

  “Kind of like.”

  “Does this writer in the book meet a woman while he's on vacation?”

  “He meets several women.”

  “I know you're having dinner at Rose's house tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I know you went out with Mya last night.”

  “Okay.”

  “Her and I used to be together. Did you know that?”

  “Yes. And you should have said, 'She and I.'”

  “What?”

  “She is a subject pronoun because it performs the action in the sentence.”

  “You think you're pretty fuckin' slick, don't you, Crane?”

  “No, I'm just slick enough to know bad grammar when I hear it.”

  Tucker was unfazed. “Mya tell you about me and her?”

  “No, her great-grandmother told me.”

  Tucker stared out the picture window. “You met her grandmother.”

  “I did.”

  “Where?”

  “The nursing home.”

  “How long are you planning on staying in town, Crane?”

  “Why, Tucker?” Allen asked. “Is this town not big enough for the two of us?”

  If Tucker thought that Allen's comeback was even slightly funny, it didn't show on his face. He continued to gaze out the window. “Just wondering when you'll be leaving, so things can get back to normal, without anyone getting hurt.”

  “What's back to normal?”

  “You, not here.”

  “And who would be getting hurt?”

  Tucker slowly turned around and he and Allen locked eyes. “Whoever gets in my way.”

  “I'll be sure to send out a memo.”

  Tucker snorted. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble someday.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What day did you say you were leaving?”

  “I don't believe I said.”

  “Why don't you go ahead and say it now.”

  “My plan was to leave a week from tomorrow.”

  “I guess it's a good thing you got the Bobby Jordan situation straightened out. I take it that's why you're sticking around?”

  “What makes you think I got everything straightened out?”

  “Small town. I hear things.” Tucker stepped toward the door. “Good talk, Crane,” he said, and walked out.

  Allen moved forward and craned his neck to see out the window. When Tucker was out of sight, he took a deep breath and exhaled.

  “Officer Tucker wasn't as friendly as he was the first time he was here. Me thinks he still has the hots for Mya, Frankie.”

  Allen glanced over at his dog. Frankie had slept through the entire conversation.

  “Hey, dog,” Allen said.

  Frankie annoyingly opened one eye.

  “He probably had a gun on him, dog, and you just lie there with your eyes closed. I don't understand. You have one job, and that's to protect me. Next time an unwelcome guest barges in here, you stand at the ready. Show some teeth, growl every once in a while, if you'd like, but don't just lie there like a log.”

  Frankie closed the eye.

  “Nothing?” Allen shook his head and waved his hand at the lounging dog. “Whatever.”

  Allen checked the time on his cell phone. “Perfect,” he said. “It's booze o'clock.”

  He went to the fridge and filled a plastic cup with ice. He added a shot and a half of tequila and topped it off with Coke. He then carried his drink to the laptop and sat down.

  “Well, Frankie, the book already had an arrogant douchebag cop that no one likes, so now I guess I can add jealousy to his list of character flaws.” Allen glanced over at his pal. “Oh, that's right, you're not interested in what I'm doing over here. You just relax. I know playing, eating, and taking dumps is hard work.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Allen finished up his writing for the day around six o'clock Friday evening. There were only about five shots of tequila left in the bottle. He thought about making himself one more drink.

  “I guess the booze ain't gonna make it till next Saturday, Frankie. I don't know what I was thinking. Two bottles of booze rarely lasts me two weeks. I've always been an over achiever.”

  Allen closed his laptop, leaned back in his chair, clasped his fingers behind his head, and gazed out over the water. He quietly counted the watercraft. Three sailboats and four motorboats. The water had calmed considerably since morning. There were now more clouds in the sky. They were more gray than white. He couldn't see if anyone was on the beach from where he sat, but he doubted there were—the tide had been rising for the past four hours. There probably wasn't much l
eft of the beach at this point.

  For a late lunch Allen and Frankie had eaten bologna sandwiches and Doritos. Frankie ate two whole sandwiches, bread and all, so he was probably all set for the night, Allen, on the other hand, was getting hungry again.

  Allen picked up the bag of Doritos he's been munching on and rolled down the open end. He got up, crossed the room, and tossed the bag on the countertop.

  “I think I'm gonna jump in the shower, Frankie,” Allen said.

  Allen dropped his shorts and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

  “I'm going to walk down to Stones Throw for dinner. You can stay in tonight, and lick your own balls, or whatever you want to do.”

  Allen kicked the clothes he'd just removed into a pile of dirty clothes he'd been building since the day he arrived. He had no plans to do laundry while he was in Maine. He'd pack the dirty clothes into one bag, and the clean ones into another, and then do his laundry at home.

  After showering and shaving, Allen put on a pair of tan cargo shorts, a black T-shirt, and slipped his feet into his flip-flops. He pulled open the door, and stood there for a second gauging the temperature, and wondering if he should bring a long-sleeved shirt to slip on. He eyed the white cotton button-up he'd tossed over the chair the night before.

  Better safe than sorry, he thought, and snatched up the shirt.

  On his way out the door, Allen turned and gave his dog a stern warning. “No parties,” he said. “And keep your paws off that bottle of tequila.” He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

  Allen passed Crystal on his way down the stairs.

  “Crystal,” Allen said, nodding.

  “Good evening. Allen,” Crystal responded. “How's everything going?”

  “Very good.”

  “Enjoying your stay?”

  “It's been very eventful.”

  “If you need anything, I'm—”

  “Right next door?”

  “Yep.”

  “You have a wonderful night, Crystal.”

  “Crystal said, “You too,” and continued up the stairs.

  Allen got to the bottom and pulled open the door.

  “Hey, Donnie.”

  “Hey yourself, Blue Eyes.”

  “All alone tonight?”

  “All alone.”

  “What happened to your … um, date?”