Cold Dead Past by John Curtis Read Free Book Online Page B

mix of roses and cinnamon and something else he had never quite figured out.  It was familiar and comfortable.  Just like the way he felt when he had seen that black hair cut to the shoulder and those piercing blue eyes.
    He had started to mentally whip himself over what he had done, giving her up, regretting that he had let another man marry her. Jay couldn’t believe it when she finally broke the silence with three little words.
    "Fred’s left me."
    It was almost a whisper.  Jay had to lean closer.
    "What?"
    "He left me, Jay. For a truckstop waitress."
    Jay was incredulous, but why hadn’t he seen it at the cemetery?  Gary at her arm.  His heart rate jumped.
      "I had the real estate business to run. It was taking off so well, what with the new people buying in.  I couldn’t give him what he wanted."
    "Oh, and what was that?"
    Meg opened her handbag and took out a pack of cigarettes and a small gold lighter.
    "Do you mind?"
    He shook his head.  She lit up and took a deep drag as she cracked the window. She exhaled a white plume into the cold night air.
    "He wanted me home every night.  Wanted dinner on the table when he got home from work.  I’m not that kind of person, you know?"
    Jay nodded in agreement.
    "Anyway, I came home early one day.  Caught them in our bed.  My bed!"
    Through the scent of her, through the whirl of all the new possibilities rushing through his mind, a sudden realization hit Jay. "Hold on a minute.  I’m driving here and don’t even know where we’re going."
    Meg laughed. "You know.  My mom and dad’s old place.  I moved in there after the divorce.  They needed someone to watch it while they’re down in Florida.  I moved in when that man left and just stayed."
    "Oh. So are they in town now?"
    "No. Don’t worry.  You won’t have to run into my dad.  I know how embarrassing that might be for you after what happened between us."
    Meg’s father seemed to have taken the breakup even harder than she had.  When Jay had called her to apologize, he’d gotten an earful of blue prose.  Mr. Foster seemed to be able to swear fluently in several languages, but it all came down to Jay being a turd; that he wasn’t fit to walk in Meg’s shadow.  At the time, he might have agreed with that assessment.
    After hearing about how things turned out with the man her father ended up choosing for her, Jay didn’t feel like such a shit after all.  He couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty, though, when he continued with his line of questioning.
    "So, that’s too bad about you and Fred."
    Meg took one last drag and crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray. "Well, for him it was worse.  He moved in with her and after about three months of putting up with his shit, she kicked him out, too.  But not until she’d cleaned him out.  Then he had the nerve to come back crying to me and wanting me to take him back."
    "And?"
    "And I told him to tell his story walking and slammed the door in his face."
    Jay smiled and said, "Good for you."
    She turned toward the window and gave a little tug on her lower lip before turning back to him.
    "Yeah. Good for me."  She paused for a moment to clear her throat and sniffled. "Sorry.  A bit of a cold, I guess.  But, anyway, a week later he caught up to me downtown at the office.  I ended up with a black eye and a fat lip."
    She stared blankly through the front windshield.
    Jay half-whispered, "I’m sorry."
    Meg sniffled again and wiped an eye with the back of her hand. "Don’t be sorry.  It was my fault for making a bad choice."
    Jay pulled to a stop in front of her house.
    "Don’t you ever say that.  You might not have made that choice if I hadn’t…"
    She turned to him and patted his knee and smiled. "But it’s true, you know?  You can’t blame yourself for what I did.  I had a free will.  Now, before I go.  Where are you staying?"
    "The Inn."
    "Oh my god," she said with a laugh. "The food’s terrible there.  I want you to come over