It Feels So Good When I Stop by Joe Pernice Read Free Book Online Page A

with my forearms on the handlebars.
    “Jesus,” I said under my breath, “I thought you were talking about a car.”
    “Cars, women, whatever, they all like to be looked at.” James and I pretended not to notice her as she walked past the Suburban. She was carrying a brown paper bag large enough for a six-pack and maybe a fifth of something. She drew the package closer to her breast. “Weird,” I said when she was well out of earshot.
    “You got that right.”
    “No, she bummed a beer and a smoke off me the other night,” I whispered.
    “Get the fuck out of here,” James said.
    “I’m serious. I was sitting right there, and she was walking by, just like that.”
    “No shit.”
    I nodded.
    “What did you guys talk about?”
    “Nothing. She skulled the beer in like two seconds, and that was it.”
    “Interesting,” said James. “You must have made some first impression.”
    “Or she doesn’t remember.” I drank from my thumb. “Seems to me like she has a bit of a battle with a bottle, if you know what I’m talking about.”
    “It’s fucking Cape Cod for chrissake,” James said. “I’d still like to throw a fuck into that.” I didn’t second that emotion. James shot a look at me. “What, you wouldn’t?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Trust me, if you saw her in a bikini you’d know. Meat on her bones. Nice shitter. Tattoos everywhere. It’s hot.” He inhaled through his clenched teeth. “I’m into that Elvira thing. Not for anything serious, but a couple hours, no strings attached? Just tell me where to be.” James could talk a good game, but to be honest, I didn’t know how much of a follow-through guy he was. Then again, he must have followed through with enough of the wrong shit for my sister to want to divorce him. Pamela tried confiding in me when they were first having problems, but I told her I was too screwed up over Jocelyn to be of any use to her. After that, I’d ask her perfunctorily how things were going. She’d say “Same,” “Worse,” or “Better” if she said anything at all. “Okay,” I said to James. “If this woman asked you to go—right this minute—you would?”
    “And you’d watch Roy?”
    “Sure, whatever.”
    James consulted his watch and smiled. “In a New York minute.”
    “Not me. I couldn’t do that, especially now.”
    “Well, it’s a mute point, isn’t it? I don’t see her coming back for you anyway.” He thought I was judging him when in fact I was judging myself.
    “What I meant was, the less I know someone, the worse the whole thing is for me. You’re a free man—”
    “Almost.”
    “I don’t care who you fuck around with.” I really didn’t.
    James understood. He handed me the Suburban’s glowing cigarette lighter as a peace offering. He let his sensitive side show. “Do you have trouble hoisting?”
    “Fuck no.”
    “Don’t get worked up. I’m just asking.” He ticked my potential impotence off his checklist. He wiggled his pinkie. “Do you have a tiny pecker?”
    “Huh?”
    “That’s not your fault, either. It’s not like you chose it. You get the dick you’re born with.” He went on to paraphrase from his rickety cosmology. “Look, you’re a decent guy from what I know of you. And you’re not the ugliest motherfucker out there. A little shaggy-looking, maybe, but chicks might mistake that for your style. So if you think you have to lay a bunch of groundwork before you can lay pipe, you’ve got to have some kind of dick issue. Or—and this is a tougher nut to crack”—he pointed the pinkie at me—“you think you have a dick issue.”
    I watched Marie disappear. “I’m as average as the next guy.”
    “Well, there you go.”
    Roy let out a single cry, then smiled when he saw his old man’s big face looking back at him.
    “Wook who woke up,” James said, his eyes wide with fake surprise. Adults—especially big, hairy men—talking like babies creeps me out. Roy was beaming.
    “God, he looks so