Maybe This Life Read Online Free Page B

wrist before it hit his face.
    “Vince, please,” Rick heard Lena plead. Vinnie tried to throw a punch with his other fist, but Rick stopped that as well.  By now all the other patrons had heard the wrangling, and the owner headed over.
    “Rick, what’s the problem here?”
    “Nothing, Jack, it’s under control.”  Rick answered The Tavern’s owner without tearing his glare away from Vinnie.
    “Let’s get outta here, Lena.  Your friend’s an ass.” 
    Lena looked at Rick and shrugged, and that’s when he saw the pain and sadness in her eyes.  Lena turned to Gary, Lindsey and Betty, “I’m sorry.  Really, I am.”  She raced after Vinnie like a puppy after its owner.
    The rest of happy hour for the NNJCC crew grew somber.  No one really seemed to know what to say to one another and Rick, lost in his own thoughts, didn’t even try to come up with conversation.  He psyched himself up enough to perform, and though his song choices were more melancholy than usual, he managed to please the crowd anyway.
    “What was that all about before, Rick?”  Gary asked when they were sitting at the bar at the end of the night.  Lindsey and Betty, along with most of The Tavern’s patrons, had already cleared out.
    Rick took another swig of his beer.  “That man is vile.”
    “I agree, but it's not your place to tell him so.”
    “Somebody had to.”
    “But we hardly even know Lena.  Couldn’t you just ignore him?”
    “No,” Rick answered adamantly. “Did you see her face?  He was humiliating her. She didn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve her. He’s an asshole and she’s….she’s perfect,” he whispered.
    “Rick…she’s getting married soon.  Stay out of it.”
    “That’s the thing.  She can’t marry him.  He’s no good for her.”
    “And I bet you think you are though.”
    Rick didn’t respond to that.  But he did know the answer.
     
    The rest of the weekend Rick spent working on the old barn that sat behind his Craftsman style house on his four acres of property on White Lake Road in Sparta.   He'd been renovating the barn so he’d have a sound proof room to record his music and a place big enough to put an air hockey table, a large screen TV, and a place to hang out. Rick started the project when he bought the house five years ago.  He had a stable for his two horses, and he didn’t really need a barn for its original intended use, so he thought he’d make himself a huge rec room.  Besides, he enjoyed physical labor.
    The lumbering was tedious, so by Sunday evening, an exhausted Rick retired to his favorite spot in the house – his recliner.  As he relaxed in the dark, he lit a cigarette and attempted to reach his precious Angie from long ago…
    Tonight….he was in luck….
     
    “Let me walk you to church, Angie.” He called after her while she hurried down the street, obviously late for Mass.
    “Oh.” She turned to see him pacing behind her several feet.
    He reached her instantly.  “I know you’re running late, but I’d like to walk with you.”
    She smiled.  Her eyes were golden-brown, her peaches ‘n cream skin, flawless, and her chocolate-brown hair, sparkling in the early morning Sunday sun.  “Okay.” Her demure voice, music to his teenage ears.
    He reached for her hand, and she placed it in his.  They strolled to church hand in hand and remained that way all through Mass, stealing glances at each other while the priest celebrated Mass.
    Afterward, they walked through town and shared an egg cream at the drugstore around the corner from Angie’s house.
    “So Angie, why do you always go to Sunday Mass by yourself?” asked a curious Richard.
    She shrugged her frail shoulders.  “My mother doesn’t even know I go.  She sleeps late every morning.  I bet she has probably never stepped foot in a church in her whole life.”
    “So why do you go?”
    “I guess I just need to hope there is someone out there looking after me.”
    That had been the