Secret Keepers and Skinny Shadows: Lee and Miranda Read Online Free Page B

wished the bus would come soon. Shivering, he rocked back and forth from one foot to the other, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them for warmth, sending white puffs of smoke up into the air.
    Today he was alone at the bus stop. Over his right shoulder at the amusement park he could hear music coming from a jukebox. The fans from the food courts filled the air with pizza and pepperoni, teasing his nose. It brought back memories of his teen years and Lillian when he worked at the park. The horses from the merry-go-round and all the other rides had been packed up and put away for the winter. The park owner made money through the cold months selling pizza, hoagies, and drinks to the locals, as well as an occasional traveler.
    The long bus ride wasn’t something Bert enjoyed it was a necessity. A few months back he demolished his truck coming home from a night of drinking, when he lost control and ran it over a cliff. The truck landed on the riverbank below wedged between two trees, saving the truck and Bert from the chilling waters. The doctors said it was a good thing he was drunk. The booze kept him from freezing to death and relaxed enough to keep him from serious injuries. It was then the police took away his driving privileges.
    As the bus pulled up, he hurried aboard, taking a seat in the front close to the heater. After a thirty-minute ride, the bus deposited him one block from his favorite drinking establishment.
    About ten o’clock that night the sky started spitting snow as he walked into the sixth bar on his list. The windowsills as well as the sides of the buildings were soon blanketed white. The blinking neon lights of the bars and eateries on the south end reflected unrecognizable shapes on the new-fallen snow. The strong wind exposed shiny patches of ice, glazing the sidewalks.
    When he stumbled into the next bar, he thought he noticed the same man in every bar he went into. He always came in after Bert taking a seat in a booth with his back to him. He was a man whom Bert knew from years ago, and couldn’t remember his name, what he did recall was he didn’t care for the guy. Determined not to let him spoil his night on the town, he soon pushed the thought of the man to the back of his mind, and returned to his drinking.
    Bert forgot about eating dinner spending his last dollar on beer number twenty in bar number nine, the Squashed Frog, his favorite. He was drinking his Bud and doing his best to stay out of trouble, when the stranger started crowding back into his thoughts, intruding on his fun. He wished he would’ve taken a seat in one of the booths away from the door, because every time a patron came in a chilling blast of wind followed them.
    His stomach growled from hunger in spite of all the beer. Gulping down the last of the brew in his glass he was ready to leave. As he wobbled up from the bar stool, a loud belch came from nowhere. He held his hand to his mouth, rolled his eyes from side to side, he was glad no one was paying attention. He moved his big hand in a slow swipe across his lips, as he staggered toward the exit. When he reached the door, it swung wide open, a blast of icy wind took his breath away as he stared down into the face of a short boyish looking man.
    “Hi Bert, let me hold the door for you.” Bert blinked, staring at the man, his head was fuzzy from too much booze and lack of food. It took him a few seconds to come up with the man’s name.
    “Thanks Henry.”
    Bert liked Henry, he thought they connected on a personal level, by being too shy to speak to people, but unlike Bert, Henry was a nice guy. Bert’s friends and acquaintances were perceptive enough to know not to cross him, because those who did knew he had a way of taking care them.
    The giant of Bridgetown was the nickname they hung on Bert in his younger days when he went ten rounds at the old theater on Rainbow Street in a boxing match with John L. Lewis. Bert was one big, rough guy. His reputation was