Riven by Jerry B. Jenkins Read Free Book Online Page B

faster than in town.”
    “It was my first order of business. I can’t wait to bring Ravinia up to date without having to stand at some pay phone.”
    Euclid Street Haberdashery | Arlington
    “That’s a funny name,” Peter said. “What’s it mean?”
    “Just clothes, I guess,” Brady said.
    It was an unusual place, one of few outlets where kids like Brady could get the kind of clothes they liked. The store had all the traditional men’s fashions—suits, slacks, sport coats, ties, socks, shoes, belts, hats—but it also had a section that catered to, well, Brady’s type. Leather jackets, big wallets with chains, tight pants, and best of all, just the right kind of shoes. It all seemed out of place in a suburban store, but apparently the owner knew a revenue stream when he saw one.
    Brady, his curled script still in his hands, told the salesman exactly what he wanted and why.
    “You’re in luck, sir,” the man said. “I have just the thing. Follow me, and may I make a suggestion?”
    “Sure.”
    “Do you have an electric guitar?”
    “No.”
    “Can you borrow one?”
    “I don’t play.”
    “You don’t have to play. It’s just a prop. I did a little musical theater myself, so trust me. You audition in this suit carrying an electric guitar, and you’d have to be the worst actor in the world to not get the part. I mean, come on, you look like Birdie in street clothes. Imagine yourself in this.”
    With a flourish, the man pulled a suit off the rack and squared it up so Brady and Peter could get the full effect.
    “Oh, man!” Peter said. “Brady, you’ve got to get that!”
    Brady stared and shook his head. “That’s gonna be way out of my price range.”
    “It’s on sale!”
    “Of course it is.”
    “I’m serious. And we have it in your size. It would have to be tailored, but—”
    “I have to take it with me tonight, man.”
    “Hmm. We usually like a few days. Tell you what, I’ll do it myself, while you wait.”
    Brady showed him how much money he had.
    “Hmm. You’re a little short, but given the circumstances, we’ll make it work. But you have to tell me how everything goes tomorrow. And if you know anybody with an electric guitar . . . the louder the better.”
    “I told you, I don’t play.”
    “I’m not talking volume, sir. I’m talking color. Just be sure it doesn’t clash with the suit.”
    Brady and Peter got home with just minutes to spare before Brady had to clean the Laundromat. Worse, his mother’s car was there. And she was on his case from the minute he opened the door. Where have you been; why didn’t you leave a note; what have you gone and wasted your money on now; what’s the idea keeping a kid out this late? —the whole bit.
    Brady hurried Peter off to bed. “Just mind your own business, Ma, and don’t try to tell me Petey is your business. You’re the one who’s supposed to be here with him, not me. I do more with him than you do. I had an errand to run; what was I going to do, leave him here alone? Now I gotta go to work, and then I’m stopping over at Stevie Ray’s.”
    She was still screaming at him as he left.
    Brady had never worked so hard and fast. He had the Laundromat tidied in no time, and that night he didn’t skim even a quarter.
    At 10:30 he knocked at Stevie Ray’s trailer. A thirtyish man with a long ponytail and wearing workout shorts and a wife-beater undershirt answered the door. “Hey, dude,” he whispered. “C’mon in. Gotta be quiet. The baby just went down.”
    “You busy?” Brady said, stepping in.
    “Nah. Just watchin’ the end of the news. Have a brew.”
    Stevie Ray pulled a couple of Buds from the fridge. Brady knew he shouldn’t, because he planned to be up all night memorizing lines. But, hey.
    Stevie Ray muted the TV as they sat. “So what’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while. Heard your dad passed.”
    “Yeah. Listen, I was wonderin’ if I could borrow your Stratocaster.”
    Stevie Ray took a long pull and