Billy Summers by Stephen King Read Free Book Online Page B

tools for writing by hand (a gesture Billy finds both sad and somehow symbolic), and unzips it. “MacBook Pro. Best money can buy, state of the art. My present to you. You can use your own if you want to, but this baby… all the bells and whistles. Can you get it going okay? There’s probably an instruction book, or something…”
    â€œI’ll figure it out.”
    No problem there, but something else might be. If Nick Majarian hasn’t rigged this beautiful black torpedo so he can use it as a kind of magic mirror into what Billy writes in this room, he has missed a trick. And Nick doesn’t miss many.
    â€œOh sugarpie, that reminds me,” Hoff says, and hands Billy another of his engraved cards along with the key to the cubby over the door to the kitchenette. “WiFi password. Totally safe. Secure as a bank vault.”
    Bullshit, Billy thinks as he puts the card in his pocket.
    â€œWell,” Giorgio says, “I guess that’s about it. We’ll leave you to your creative endeavors. Come on, Ken.”
    Hoff seems reluctant to leave, as if he feels there should be more to show. “You call me if you need anything, Bi… Dave. Anything at all. Entertainment, maybe? A TV? Maybe a radio?”
    Billy shakes his head. He has a considerable musical library on his phone, mostly country and western. He has many things to do in the days ahead, but at some point he’ll find time to rip his tunes to this fine new laptop. If Nick decides to listen in, he can catch up on Reba and Willie and all Hank Junior’s rowdy friends. And maybe he’ll write that book after all. On his own laptop, which he trusts. He will also take security measures on both lappies—the new one and his personal, which is an old pal.
    Giorgio finally gets Hoff out and Billy is on his own. He goes back to the window and stands there tracing both diagonals: the one leading to the wide stone steps and the one leading to the employees’ door. Again he imagines what will happen, seeing it vividly. Real-world events are never quite the same as the ones you see in your head, but this work always begins with the seeing. It’s like poetry that way. The things that change, the unexpected variables, the revisions: that stuff has to be dealt with when it comes up, but it starts with the seeing.
    His phone dings with a text.
    GRusso: Sorry about H. I know he’s a bit of an asshole.
    Billy S: Do I need to see him again?
    GRusso: Don’t know.
    Billy would prefer something more definitive, but this will do for now. It will have to.
6
    When he gets back to what he supposes is now home, his new David Lockridge building ID is in his pocket. Tomorrow he’ll be driving his new used car to work. On the porch, leaning against the door, is a bag of Miracle-Gro lawn food with a note taped to it: Thought you could use this! Jamal A .
    Billy gives the house next door a wave, although he’s not sure there’s anyone there to see; it’s still half an hour shy of noon. Probably both Ackermans work. He takes the lawn food inside, props it in the hall, then drives to Walmart, where he buys two burner phones (an heir and a spare) and a couple of flash drives, although he’ll probably need just the one; he could put the complete works of Émile Zola on a single thumbie and barely fill a corner of the space available.
    He also impulse buys a cheap AllTech laptop, which he puts in his bedroom closet, still in the carton. He pays cash for the phones and the flash drives. He uses his David Lockridge Visa for the laptop. He has no immediate plans for the burners, may never even use them. It all depends on his exit strategy, which at this point is only a shadow.
    He stops at Burger King on the way back, and when he gets to the yellow house, a couple of kids on bikes are in front of it. A boy and a girl, one white and one black. He guesses the girl must belong to Jamal and Corinne Ackerman.
    â€œAre