Two Jakes Read Online Free

horrible moment, Luke, embarrassingly aware of
his excitement, thought he wasn’t in deep enough. But then he followed her
finger and saw something dark silhouetted by a wave. It was big.
    “Probably
a dolphin,” he squeaked, unforgivably. He had never spoken to a half-naked
girl, let alone three. “Maybe a sand shark,” he was able to croak.
    Luke
thought that they would scurry to shore. He would stand his ground to impress
them, although he did feel a thrill of fear. But these were Florida girls and
edged out toward the object. It didn’t look like a fish. A log? He was about to
tell them to be careful when the wave rolled the object right into the girls.
All erotic thoughts were blown out of his mind as they screamed and ran. He
swore later that the tits on the middle girl, the one with the large, dark
aureoles, “twirled” in opposite directions like a New Year’s Eve party favor.
It was sight Luke Goldfarb would remember the rest of his life, second only to
the naked, bloated, almost faceless corpse now bumping gently against his hip.

CHAPTER
2 - A PLATINUM REFERRAL
     
    Three months later, New York City
     
    The
phone warbled just as Scarne placed the last book into his London Library
Cabinet. He ignored it and began arranging photo frames and plaques on the
shelf, even though he knew Evelyn would eventually switch them around to her
liking. Without his objection. In his relationships with women Scarne had long
ago decided what few battles were worth waging. Decoration wasn’t one of them.
She had put her foot down about the antlers and now ruled the roost. The phone
kept trilling. It was her choice of ring tone, too, and sounded like a Parisian
ambulance. He would speak to her about that. Why didn’t she answer it?
Then he remembered she’d gone to buy last-minute office supplies. He reached
his desk just before the answering machine picked up.
    “This
is Jake Scarne.”
    “Mr.
Scarne, my name is Sheldon Shields. Don Tierney suggested I call.”
    Sheldon
Shields? The name sounded familiar. Scarne pulled his laptop closer and sat
down. He looked at the caller I.D. on his phone console: Shields Inc .
One of those Shields? He began to Google.
    “What
can I do for you, Mr. Shields?”
    “I
may have something for you. Don said you can be trusted and have imagination.”
    “That
was kind of him.”
    Scarne
glanced at his computer. Sheldon Shields was the older brother of Randolph
Shields, chairman of one of the nation’s largest media companies. Good old Don.
The gift that keeps on giving.
    “The
matter is rather delicate. Are you available to meet with me today?”
    Scarne
preferred meeting clients in his new office suite, which offered a stunning
view of Rockefeller Center and the twirling skaters 20 stories below.
Montpelier arm chairs flanked the Burford dresser that served as a magazine
table in his waiting room, and the desks, tables and bookshelves in his office
and conference room were in British Traditions style. Dark green carpets,
maroon accent pieces and nautical paintings completed a décor meant to impress
clients and hint at high fees. There were still boxes lying about, but they’d
be gone by the afternoon.
    “Let
me check my calendar, Mr. Shields.”
    Scarne
had barely begun riffing through a Golf Digest for sound effect when
Shields said, “Any chance I could buy you lunch at the Federal League?”
    Excellent
chance, Scarne thought, the home field advantage of his office receding at the
prospect of dining at one of the city’s premier social clubs. Besides, a
Shields was a Shields. Not easily impressed. Or worried about fees, for that
matter. They agreed to meet at 1 P.M.
    After
hanging up, Scarne went deeper into the company website. Sheldon Shields held
various titles, but from what Scarne could gather played a distant second
fiddle to his somewhat notorious brother, and mainly hosted media events,
investor conferences and other social or business functions. Sheldon also ran
the