Lydia Read Online Free Page A

laid there under the bear’s dead body until the cowboys set him free.”
    “You think that’s true?”
    “In the ’30s, there was a decapitation. Decapitations fascinate me. Do you think the eyes keep working for a while afterward? I don’t see why not. Imagine what it must feel like to see your own body without a head.”
    And while the woman went into an hour drone on the subject of blood, guts, and gore, Shannon sat next to the window and stewed over the stupid amount of energy she’d wasted deciding what to wear when she met Lydia’s plane. Shannon’s grandmother was impossible to satisfy, so it was senseless for Shannon to work herself up over clothing. Lydia criticized. Maurey said it was an evil habit Lydia fell into years ago, and she didn’t mean to be mean. Shannon should take it as a lesson on what not to do when she grew up, which you would think would have happened by now, if it was going to.
    “We need bad examples even more than good ones,” Maurey said.
    “Yeah, but why do I have to be related to so many of them?”
    Shannon chose a white turtleneck, black Wranglers, Nike running shoes, and earrings Hank Elkrunner made in the prison jewelry shop from two #12 Royal Coachman dry flies. She changed in the airport restroom, ran out to the parking lot to find Lydia’s BMW, threw her bag into the trunk, then ran back into the airport in time to meet the next flight. Lydia wasn’t on it.
    Shannon settled in to read the pile of catalogs she’d brought from Greensboro, but visions of Tanner kept getting in the way. She came up with at least ten things she should have said, most of them having to do with the size of his penis. Then the shape. Then his ability to use it effectively for anything other than a whiz in the wind. Given two days to write several drafts of her phone call’s last line, she could have made him feel like such a loser.
    Lydia was on the next flight up from Denver. She had bought herself a first-class ticket, and she came off the plane wearing a flowing white broomstick skirt with a silver conch belt and matching bracelets, looking like honorable mention in the Isadora Duncan lookalike contest. Her hair was jet-black like vinyl seat covers. Shannon had been braced for the rejection of no hug after not seeing each other in two years, and she was shocked when Lydia grabbed her around the shoulders.
    “Let me give you some advice,” Lydia said. “Don’t ever go to prison.”
    “I’ll try not to.”
    “Prison makes a woman stronger, but it isn’t worth the trouble.” Lydia released the hug as the economy-class passengers parted and flowed around them like rocks in a river. “You look nice. Did Hank give you the earrings?”
    Lydia hadn’t said, You look nice ,to Shannon since middle-school graduation. “He sent them to me for Christmas. Are you okay? You want some water?”
    “I’m perfect.” Lydia headed for the baggage carrel. “But we’ll have to do something about those shoes before the party.”
    They waited by the baggage carrel for Lydia’s four brand-new suitcases, then passed through the glass double doors into the Wyoming sunlight. Lydia almost kissed the asphalt, probably would have if Shannon hadn’t been standing there looking like she expected a slap. It was all Lydia could do to keep from sounding happy.
    “Are you still working in the little frame shop at the mall?” she asked.
    Shannon was having trouble with the bags. Lydia thought about offering help but was afraid it might set a precedent.
    “I don’t think so,” Shannon said.
    “Don’t think so?”
    “I broke up with the owner right before I left Greensboro. He doesn’t seem like the type who can work with an ex.”
    “You were sleeping with your boss?”
    Shannon set three bags on the pavement and dug for Lydia’s car key. There wasn’t much to say, beyond the obvious.
    Lydia said, “That is so asinine.”
    “I know that now.”
    “You should have known it earlier. When I was your