The Righteous Men (2006) Read Online Free

team kind of, having this moment. And
there, in the middle of it, is this little boy — and suddenly that’s
what he looks like, a little boy — who doesn’t quite know what he’s
done. And that’s what convinces me it’s real. He doesn’t look
pleased with himself, like someone who calculated that “Hey, this will be
a way to get some extra credit”.
    He just looks a little bewildered.
    ‘Until that moment, I had seen this boy as a hoodlum. I know, I know
— I of all people am meant to get past “labels” and all that.’
She mimed the quote marks around ‘labels’, leaving no doubt that
she was parodying the kind of people who made that gesture. ‘But, if I’m
honest, I had seen him as a nasty little punk. I didn’t like him at all.
And then he does this little thing which is just so good. You know what I mean?
Just a simple, good act.’
    She fell quiet. Will did not want to say anything, just in case there was
more. Eventually Beth broke the silence. ‘I don’t know,’ she
said, in an ‘anyway’ voice, as if to signal that the episode was
over.
    They talked some more, their conversation noodling between his day and hers.
He leaned over several times to kiss her, on each occasion hoping for a repeat
of the openmouthed treat he’d had before. She was denying him. As she stretched
forward, he could see the bottom of her back and just a hint of her underwear,
visible in the gap between her skin and her jeans. He loved seeing Beth naked,
but the sight of her in her underwear always drove him wild.
    ‘Check please!’ he said, eager to get her home. As they walked
out, he slid his hand under her T-shirt, over the smooth skin of her back and
headed south into her trousers. She was not stopping him. He did not know that
he would replay that sensation in his hands and in his head a thousand times before
the week was out.

CHAPTER FOUR
Brooklyn, Saturday, 8am
    This is Weekend Edition. The headlines this morning.
There could be help for homeowners after the Fed’s quarter point rise in
interest rates; the governor of Florida declares parts of the panhandle a
disaster area thanks to Tropical Storm Alfred; and scandal, British style.
First, this news …
    It was eight am and Will was barely conscious. They had
not fallen asleep till well past three. Eyes still shut, he now Wretched an arm
to where his wife should be. As he expected, no Beth. She was already off: one
Saturday in four she held ‘a weekend clinic and this was that Saturday.
The woman’s stamina astounded him. And, he knew, the children and their parents
would have no idea the psychiatrist treating them was operating on a quarter
cylinder. When she was with them, she was at full strength.
    Will hauled himself out of bed and headed for the breakfast table. He did
not want to eat; he wanted to see the paper. Beth had left a note — Well
done, honey. Big day today, let’s have a good night tonight — and
also the Metro section folded open at the right page. B3. Could be worse ,
thought Will. ‘Brownsville slaying linked to prostitution’, ran the
headline over less than a dozen paragraphs. And, in between, was his by-line.
He had had to make a decision when he first got into journalism; in fact, he
had made it back at Oxford, writing for Cherwell , the student paper.
Should he be William Monroe Jr or plain Will Monroe? Pride told him he should
be his own man, and that meant having his own name: Will Monroe.
    He glanced at the front page of the Metro section and then the main paper to
see who among his new colleagues — and therefore rivals — was
prospering. He clocked the names and made for the shower.
    An idea began to take shape in Will’s head, one that grew and became
more solid as he got dressed and headed out, past the young couples pushing
three-wheeler strollers or taking their time over a cafe breakfast on Court
Street. Cobble Hill was packed with people like him and Beth: twenty- and
thirtysomething professionals, transforming