Jersey Angel Read Online Free Page A

two little girls, and the truth is I don’t quite fit in. I mean, he’s my dad and he loves me, but Ginger, the wife, doesn’t exactly like the fact of me. Oh, she’s nice enough, but it’s like I’m a guest in that house. I mean, I can’t hang out, plop on the couch, pour myself a soda. She hovers, all polite. Wouldn’t you think politeness like that would wear off, say, after a couple of weeks? It’s been years. A real cool cucumber, she is. And my dad is overworked. He made some bad financial deal, and the poor guy has debt up the wazoo.
    So I hang out and we talk, during which time Ginger calls twice. When Dad gets up to leave for the day, hejingles his car keys and says, “Look, it’s okay about the kids. Why don’t you come over for dinner.”
    “You sure?”
    “Well …” He sighs.
    “Next time,” I say, quick. All he needed to say was
yes, come
and I would have.
    As I’m leaving, Rob, who works in the yard, asks me if I want to put in a couple of hours, because the marina’s gotten busy. So I pump gas, and he tosses me a few White Castle burgers from a gigantic bag. Joop hangs out with me on the dock as the boats pull in and out. He’s a gentle giant, a real lovey boy. I lie in front of him and take his big old head in my hands and look into his soulful eyes.
    “How’s it going, Joopy boy?” He licks me. “I have boy trouble, if you can believe it,” I tell him. “But I’m practicing the art of patience. You know about patience, don’t you?” He yawns and settles his head between his paws.
    Then a very cute guy who graduated a few years ago pulls up in a Boston Whaler and swings himself onto the dock. “Long time no see.” He has shaggy blond hair and his madras shorts hang low, showing his briefs.
    “Hey there.” I hand him the pump.
    “When am I gonna take you for a ride?”
    “I’m ready whenever,” I tell him with a smile.
    “So come on.”
    “As you can see, I’m working.”
    “Next time.”
    As the sun sets and the marina quiets down, I decide to visit Joey on the boardwalk, where he works his dad’s stand.
    I spy on him from the Kohr’s stand. “Come on over. Check it out. A prize every time,” he calls to people strolling along with their slices and cones. What is his life like these days? I know he’s working a lot, and football practice starts in late July. After a long night at the stand he probably goes home and makes himself comfy on the couch with a nice plate of fancy cheese and maybe thinks about finding himself a girlfriend. I wonder. How much does he really miss me? Does he want to give it another go? Underneath it all I think he does. The prospect of a ride with the very cute guy with the madras shorts just isn’t as appealing to me as hanging out on Joey’s couch with a plate of cheese, fancy or not.
    Not much action tonight at the water balloon stand. Joey sits on a stool, props his feet up on the ledge, and yawns. Just then Carmella walks over and starts talking. She tilts her head, tosses her long, glossy hair, and laughs. She’s a big flirt, a little bit stuck up too, but we’re friends. Cheerleaders. She’s all right. She has the most amazing bag. At the right moment she can whip out just what you need—a tampon, a spritz of perfume, a string of dental floss, a chocolate Kiss, a Band-Aid, a dousing of Off.
    So I bide my time and visit my friend Vic, who’s working the Ferris wheel. We were never an item, but we fool around now and then. I sit with him for a while as the bennies climb in and out of the cars. We play a few rounds of rummy and yak. When I know Joe will be getting ready to close up, I head back.
    “Hey there,” I say, walking slowly over to the stand.
    “Well, look who it is.” Joey glances at me. A couple of stuffed Bart Simpsons have tipped over on the shelf, and he sets them neatly in a row.
    “You want to hang out?” I say.
    “Hang out?”
    “Yeah.” I pick up a leaky gun and point it at a clown head. Joey flips the