The Donzerly Light by Ryne Douglas Pearson Read Free Book Online Page B

good, man. Just go in the can and let it up. You’ll be good for a few more hours then.” Jay didn’t seem eager to take up the suggestion. Jude gave him a closer look. A closer, more concerned look. “Hey, seriously, are you okay?”
    Jay thought on that question, his eyes wafting up after a moment. “Either I’ve had way too much to drink...” Dancing coins, brother, dancing coins that all come up heads. “...or nowhere near enough.”
    “Well, which do you think it is?”
    Jay eyed his untouched seventh drink and the change arrayed between it and him. Nine coins. All heads. Toss in the throbbing beat, and the sweet booze, and the pretty girls, and his good friends. Too much, he thought. Maybe it was just too much. “Whichever it is, I don’t think here is the place to find out.”
    “Don’t be a pussy,” Jude chided, checking his watch, holding the slender timepiece close to his face for a moment to be sure of the numbers. “It’s only twelve thirty. C’mon.”
    Jay stood, using the table to steady himself. “Late enough for this night.”
    “You have big plans tomorrow, or something?” Jude asked, peeved.
    In fact, if his whiskey-numbed brain wasn’t mistaken, he did. They did. “Carrie wants to go out to Floral Park tomorrow and look at houses.”
    “Floral Park?” Jude cringed. “Grady, Long Island will be the death of you. If you start getting serious about a place out there, you’ll have a ring on your finger, two kids, a mortgage, and no time to make any serious green. You’ll be hawking mutuals by phone. Mark my word: if you want a green future, you need to be in the city. Close to the action. Near the Street.”
    Jay grinned. “She just wants to look, Jude.”
    “Right, like I just want to look at these babes here. Like Bunk and Steve just want to look at Miss Plastic Fantastic herself.” Jude chuckled knowingly. “To look is to want, my friend. And what’s the old saying? Be careful what you want, you just might get it.”
    “You’re so quotable when you’re drunk,” Jay said, then he tapped the birthday boy on the shoulder.
    Bunker tore his eyes from Christine Mellinger and turned toward his friend. “Where are you going?”
    “Home, buddy.” Jay planted a friendly slap on Bunker’s cheek. “Happy quarter century.”
    “You leaving?” Steve asked, having turned from the show as well.
    “I am,” Jay answered, stepping back from the table and pushing his chair in. For a moment he stood there, holding onto the chairback, letting his legs adjust to being used again. When they felt less like mush and more like flesh and bone he said, “Until Monday.”
    Jude took a drink of his GT and hefted his glass toward Jay. “Lightweight.”
    “Maybe so,” Jay mostly agreed, and gave the change what he thought was a last look. Soon he let go the chair and wobbled in place for a moment until his confidence peaked. “Aloha, gentlemen.”
    Steve and Bunker turned back toward the stage as Jay left the club, bobbing between table and reaching for the first wall near the exit. Jude watched him pause there for a moment near the coat check before he turned the corner and was gone, then he swung his chair around and focused his attention on a trio of Japanese nymphs closing in from the left on the turning stage. Steve and Bunker were back to their silent worship of the goddess of eleven once again.
    A few minutes passed before Bunker spoke. “Jude.”
    “What?”
    “How much?”
    “Are you asking about her?”
    “Yeah. How much would a guy have to make to be in the running?”
    “To lick her shoes, two hundred grand. To do what you want, half a mil.”
    Bunker shook his head. “That’s a bunch of green.”
    “I’ll tell you what, Bunk,” Jude began. “We’ll start a fund. Jay left his change, so we’ll seed the account with that. Call it the ‘Bunker Wants To Fuck Christine Mellinger’ fund. How’s that?”
    “You’re a generous motherfucker, Duffault,” Bunker