Pike's Folly by Mike Heppner Read Free Book Online Page A

Allison drove them across the Washington Bridge to Fox Point, then down along the boulevard and past the mental hospital to where she and her father lived in a three-story brick and shingle Tudor, set off from the road by a tall hedge and a circular driveway. The BMW was parked in front of the house, along with a car she didn’t recognize. Pulling up behind it, she turned to Heath and made a face. “I hope we’re not having turkey.”
    Once inside the house, she led him through the smell of turkey cooking into a lamp-lit sun parlor, where her father and another man were sitting over drinks and appetizers. The other man was Nathaniel Pike; Allison hadn’t expected to see him here.
    â€œHoney.” Gregg Reese got up from his wicker chaise lounge and kissed his daughter on the cheek. The drink in his hand looked like a Scotch on the rocks. “Was the drive down easy?”
    â€œDad, it’s five minutes.” She smiled tightly at their guest. “Mr. Pike, this is my boyfriend, Heath. Heath . . .”
    The man leaned out of his seat to shake the boy’s hand. “Nathaniel Pike,” he said.
    Heath’s face burned as he heard himself saying hello. It seemed an unlikely combination—Nathaniel Pike and Gregg Reese. Reese was the kind of middle-aged man that others referred to as “youthful-looking.” His short, grayish-blond hair stood on end, wet-gelled to a punkish bristle, and his frosty blue eyes were set in deep dark sockets like lights inside a cave. As the public face of the Reese Foundation, he rarely appeared as anything other than rigidly uncomfortable in front of a camera, and he carried the same stiff, reading-the-cue-cards demeanor to his private life. The other man was a goof, a wasteful libertine. Every town, Heath supposed, had its Nathaniel Pike: the archetypal kook who resurfaced every few months, jabbering his opinions to local reporters about the issues of the day. Both Pike and Reese were so wealthy that the money seemed abstract—inexhaustible and therefore beyond reckoning. But to a basement dweller like Heath, who tended to regard the enlightened upper class with some suspicion, Nathaniel Pike was infinitely hipper than Gregg Reese.
    â€œMr. Pike,” he managed, letting go of his hand. “It’s an honor.”
    â€œI’m not staying,” Pike explained, primarily for Allison’s sake. “I just stopped by to drop off a bottle of something.”
    Politely, not wanting to make a big deal about it, Gregg protested, “No, Nate, I’ve already told you. We’ve got plenty of food.”
    â€œOh, no, no. I don’t want to ruin your Thanksgiving.”
    â€œYou’re not ruining anything.” Gregg smiled, showing his teeth. Allison sometimes wondered how her father appeared to other men. Was he attractive? The idea freaked her out a little.
    Turning to her, Gregg asked, “Allison, what would you and Heath like to drink?”
    She answered coldly, “We’ll help ourselves,” and hurried off to the kitchen, where she waited for Heath to catch up. “God,” she hissed, “I cannot
believe
he actually wants Nathaniel Pike to stay for dinner. Maybe we can sneak out early.”
    Heath still felt dazed from shaking Pike’s hand. “I didn’t know your father and Mr. Pike were friends.”
    â€œMy father doesn’t have any friends.” Struggling with the corkscrew, she tried to open a bottle of Chardonnay. “Pike’s been scamming off of my family for years. He used to hang out with my mom when I was little. He had her going on some lie about needing money to make a movie. I’m sure they probably fucked.” The cork came out with a pop, and she poured them two brimming glasses, emptying most of the bottle. “The dude’s completely bonkers,” she said, “and he’s a total perv.”
    When they returned from the kitchen, Pike asked,