Duncan Delaney and the Cadillac of Doom Read Online Free Page A

graham crackers or milk, but to his abiding frustration, nothing else ever came of it. Or so Tiffy maintained. Duncan trusted her. Duncan trusted everyone, though some, like Danny, he liked to keep one eye on.
    Tiffy’s blond hair was lightened, but her enormous brown eyes were real, and her teeth were responsible for three of her orthodontist’s most recent nocturnal emissions. Her face and smile were all Wyoming but her body was pure Hollywood mud wrestler. Duncan held that opinion because once, when he was sixteen and a run away from the reservation, Benjamin had mailed Duncan a postcard from the Hollywood Tropicana. Duncan had studied the card intently before Fiona confiscated it with a long, sad commentary on Benjamin’s abundant lack of character. The card depicted numerous tanned and oiled women whose synthetic breasts strained the limits of string bikinis. Tiffy resembled that, but without the oil and silicon.
    “Hey, Duncan,” Danny said.
    Danny was five ten in boots and pushing two hundred and fifty pounds. He had bad skin and a round, not quite ugly face, but his daddy liberally shared his thick wallet with his son, and that went a long way to equalize his social standing. As usual, he looked nervous.
    “Take a hike,” Duncan said.
    “Sure.” Danny got up and left.
    “That was rude,” Tiffy said.
    “I get tired of him sniffing around you all the time.”
    She turned her head when he bent to kiss her. His lips brushed a surprisingly cold cheek. He took Danny’s place on the swing.
    “Sorry about Saturday,” he said. “I got wrapped up painting.”
    Tiffy aimed a neon pink nail at the van. “Whose is that?”
    “Mine. What do you think?”
    “Well, I think you better move it. It’s leaking oil. Daddy will be mad if you stain the driveway. He’s proud of his concrete.”
    Duncan moved the van to the street. He returned to the porch and took off his hat. A picture of a cowboy holding a hat full of water for his thirsty horse was screened onto the Stetson’s white satin lining. He had not noticed that before. The portrayal’s humanity made him smile.
    “What the hell did you buy that thing for anyway?”
    “Fiona gave it to me.”
    “Why on earth would Fiona give you a wreck like that?”
    “What?” Duncan spotted the misunderstanding and moved swiftly to rectify it. “No. Fiona gave me the hat. I bought the bus.”
    “Whatever for?”
    “I’m moving to Los Angeles. To paint.”
    Tiffy laughed. “And fish have testicles.”
    That threw Duncan. He was not sure if fish were so equipped.
    “I’m serious, Tiffy,” he finally said.
    “Let’s see if I have this right,” Tiffy said. “You’re moving to California, despite the fact that if you do your mother will cut you off but good.”
    Duncan put his hat back on. “That about sums it up.”
    “Duncan Delaney, you’re not going anywhere least of all California. So just get that idea out of your head. I suspect you’ll die in Cheyenne like the rest of us.”
    “Which would be fine if that was what I wanted. I love you, Tiffy, but I’m going. I want you to come with me.”
    Tiffy initiated a laugh, but something in Duncan’s eyes stopped her cold.
    “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”
    “Yes,” Duncan said. “Yes, I am.”
    Tiffy punched him with such authority that his hat flew off and he fell backwards over the swing into a bed of posies. He had not been sucker punched in a long time and, coming from the girl he loved, it was a revelation. He shook his head and looked up. Tiffy stood over him, a terrible Valkyrie with retribution flashing like strobe lights in her eyes.
    “You pitiful bastard!” She grabbed his shirt and shook. “If you think I’m moving to L.A. to be some nobody waiting on tables in a Bob’s Big Boy to support a no talent painter like you well you’ve got another thought coming! To think I wasted seven years on you!”
    She released him and he fell back into the posies. She grabbed his feet and