In Mike We Trust by P. E. Ryan Read Free Book Online Page B

old; Mike’s was old, and falling apart, right down to the collar that was separating from the shirt in places.
    â€œ Dark Side of the Moon is awesome,” she said.
    â€œI couldn’t agree more.”
    Garth waved her over, and she climbed in.
    â€œSo you’re a photographer?” Mike asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from her house.
    â€œI’m an artist,” she replied.
    â€œGood for you,” Mike said. “I’m not, but peoplelike me need people like you to open our eyes to the world, you know? Most of us go through life in a…vacuum. When, really, there’s amazing stuff happening all around us—and not just beautiful stuff, but horrible, twisted, or sometimes achingly mundane stuff. A million missed moments every day, because we can’t see them. Artists help us do that. Particularly photographers, who deal with such concrete subjects. They help fill that void.”
    Garth himself couldn’t have scripted a statement that would have pleased Lisa more. It was as if Mike had been coached on the subject of her and was giving his oral exam. He turned around and glanced at Lisa in the backseat. She was nodding her head slowly and appeared a little stunned. After a moment she said, simply, “Yeah.”
    â€œSo where’s this hardware store?” Mike asked.
    â€œTurn here. We’ll go to one on Broad Street,” Garth said. The last store his dad had owned had been across the James River, on the south side of town. It was a greeting card and party supply store now. He hadn’t been inside but had ridden past it with his mom once; neither one of them had remarked on it as they’d passed.
    Mike told them he’d only be a minute, and disappeared into the Broad Street store.
    â€œSo,” Garth said when they were alone. “What do you think?”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œMy uncle.”
    â€œI think it’s completely spooky how much he looks like your dad. How can you stand it?”
    â€œThe more I’m around him, the more I can see little differences. I don’t even know what they are, but I see them.”
    â€œHis personality’s a lot different from your dad’s.”
    â€œHow do you mean?”
    â€œWell, your dad was a salesman, right? He had a store; he sold things.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œBut he didn’t talk like a salesman.”
    â€œAnd Mike does?”
    â€œI don’t know yet. I’m still getting a read on him. He seems a little…slick.”
    â€œGive him a chance,” Garth said. He liked Mike, and he wanted Lisa to like him. After all, they were the only two people he could truly be himself around.
    Before long, Mike emerged with a bag in each hand. He put the bags in the trunk, then got back in behind the wheel.
    â€œWhat’s all that?” Garth asked.
    â€œNecessaries,” he said. “So—where to now? Wedon’t have to get out of the car; you can just point out the good stuff.”
    â€œThat may be a challenge,” Lisa muttered.
    At Garth’s suggestion, they made their way downtown to Capitol Square. They showed him the Capitol Building and the surrounding grounds, the governor’s mansion, the conglomerate statue of various American icons topped by George Washington. From there, they directed Mike past the grand Jefferson Hotel, and finally they cut back over so that he could drive down Monument Avenue—a wide, brick thoroughfare with a tree-lined median and stately houses lining either side.
    â€œThe pride and joy of Richmond,” Lisa droned from the backseat.
    They rounded the monument to J.E.B. Stuart, his horse reared up as if a mouse had startled it.
    â€œHe was one of the head honchos?” Mike asked.
    â€œHe was a general,” Garth said. “Kind of stubborn. I think I read that somewhere, or saw it in a documentary.”
    They carried on, and soon came to the traffic