Gazelle by Gloria Bello Read Free Book Online Page A

we hang out again.  But no hooking up or anything.  He thinks I just use him . ”
              They park on the street in front of a pool hall.  She rummages through the  middlecompartment in search of change, finding his phone instead.  “ Do you need this ? ”
“ Probably.  How do you use him ? ”
“ You ask a lot of questions.  People who ask a lot of questions are usually trying to distract themselves from something , ” she says as she hands him his phone with five more missed calls from CeCe.
    “ Tha t’ s pretty good, I like what you did there.  You diverted the attention from my question, which was diverting my attention from myself.  I t’ s cool.  You do n’ t have to tell me , ” he says, frowning down at his phone as he notes the urgent text messages he has yet to read.
    “ Jesus!  Do I nee d‘ lawyer u p’ ?  Fine, I’ ll answer, I got nothing to hide detective .  He thinks I use him to fix my car.  Which I do and don't hide it. “
“ Tha t’ s not so bad.  At least yo u’ re honest about it , ” he says.
    “ Wel l… he also thinks I use him as an excuse to keep myself single.  Which is none of his business . ”
              She swings out of the car before he can respond and heads for the door. 
    He follows her, studying the dilapidated building before them; a peeling, aged sign that read s‘ Pool Palac e ’ hangs over a long, tinted glass storefront, too dark to see into.  He suddenly notes his surroundings, the long stretch of street facing a chain link fence enclosing train tracks, the absence of people or cars, debris scattered along the gutters, and feels a certain amount of uncertainty and danger.  He looks to his new friend once more, playing with the alarm on the car like a child with a new toy.
    “ The red button, right ? ”
“ You only need to hit it the once , ” he says.
    “ I know, but I hit it the once and then again to make sure s o… do I hit it again ? ”
    “ Yeah, one more time.  And then stop playing with it or I’ ll take it away , ” he smiles.
                  She swats at him and points the keys at the car, hitting the button with a serious intensity.  “ Shit ! ”
“ What ? ”
    “ Se e… you and all your questions distracted me too much , ” she grumbles, scrimmaging through her pockets as she races back to the car, with the change for the meter.
    “ Hey, look, before we go in I think I should kindawarn you...I don't know you all that well, I hope you're not too sensitive , ” she says.  “ My landlord can be a bit abrasive.  Do n’ t take anything he says too seriously.  An d… do n’ t make too much eye contact.  H e’ s a total alpha . ”
    “ What does that mean ? ”
                  She opens the tinted glass doors into a room trapped in a dé cor decades old.  The smell of beer, cigarettes and dirty carpet wafts up to greet them.  The felt on the tables is old and worn, the walls painted a bright orange and covered in faded beer advertisements of bikini models with long, frizzy hair from the 8 0’ s and 9 0’ s.  A bar runs the length of the room, lined with empty bar stools still turned over on the counter.  Talking Heads blares through old, dirty speakers perched adjacent to the doors.  The pool hall is a long, dark room, empty except for a small group of men in the furthest corner who circle slowly around their table in deep concentration.  They look up at the two and do n’ t smile or frown, just watch, shifting their weights onto their cues.  Alice moves confidently in long strides towards the men, her hands shoved casually in her pockets, Julian trailing after her like a hesitant guard dog.
    “ Well, well, my favorite tenant has graced us at last . ”
    “ Hi, Rolando . ”
              Rolando is a lanky Asian man in a lavender dress shirt and slacks.  His head is shaved, his face scarred with a knife cut across his