The Winners Circle by Christopher Klim Read Free Book Online

my friend. B-ingo!”
    Jerry glanced back at the little man. “So what?”
    “ So what?! You can spend the rest of your life overlooking town. That’s what.”
    “ Why would I want to do that?”
    “ Because Chelsea wants it.”
    “ She never ...” Jerry wished he hadn’t admitted that. Men will always be men, and he needed to know what his woman wanted before any other man. “I mean, she never mentioned this place in particular.”
    “ She wanted you to see it. It just came on the market. Twenty acres. It’s been a tree farm since colonial days.”
    “ What happened to it?”
    “ The owner died, and the heirs want to sell. Most people don’t know about it yet. You have to move quickly.”
    “ I don’t want to move.”
    “ Think of the options this place can afford. You can build the house of your desires.”
    “ We’re going to do that in Hopewell.”
    Haskell spread out his arms. “Why Hopewell, when you can have Princeton? At five million, it’s a steal.”
    Jerry fought to stay one step ahead of him. “I suppose you’re going to tell me about the tax write-offs.”
    “ Of course.”
    “ Will the soil perk for water and septic?”
    Haskell donned a smarmy look, an extension of his repellent persona. “Those are merely details.”
    Details was another one of Haskell’s favorite words, and details were where Haskell would always excel.
    Jerry hopped off the rock. He looked down on Haskell. It wasn’t unusual for Chelsea to be swayed by dangerous promises, even an intelligent lady like her. Jerry determined to jettison this attorney from his life. He was going to discuss the matter with his wife as soon as he reached home. “Let me think about it.”
     
     
     
    The lilac sprigs shifted in the breeze, as Jerry drove the old Ford up the drive and past the dilapidated carriage house at the front of the property. Light emanated from the farmhouse, and he spotted Chelsea’s silhouette beside the living room reading lamp. The sight of her calmed his nerves. He decided to take the conversation slow. She was a hard mind to change. She trusted Haskell. Jerry wouldn’t send Haskell down the block for a loaf of bread. Haskell might not steal their money, but Haskell believed that he knew a better way of spending it.
    Jerry tossed his keys and jacket on the chair by the door. He considered dinner, preparing Chelsea’s favorite veal dish. “I see you got home alright.”
    Chelsea never turned around. She perched on the edge of the couch, leaning over a large binder on the coffee table. “What do you think of these?”
    He stood over her shoulder, taken aback by the array of photographs upon the page. They were snapshots of naked women, below the chin and above the waist, a full view of bare breasts. “What the hell?”
    “ What do you like?”
    He double-clutched. This was not a question you often answered for your wife, not the typical wife.
    She flipped through the pages. He saw round shapes and conical shapes. There were pendulous sacks of female flesh and pairs that stuck out like bookshelves, defying gravity. Some looked petite and pert. Others floated like dirigibles, feminine warships in the sky. He spotted side views and overviews; views of how they’d look lying down. There was nothing erotic about it, just a who’s who of breasts in America.
    “ What are you doing?” Jerry asked.
    “ I want new ones.”
    “ New what?”
    “ Breasts, dummy.”
    He didn’t believe it, even as the words left her mouth. Chelsea was a B cup, a nice round shape, still high for thirty-two years. He reached over and slammed the binder shut. “What in the world are you doing?”
    “ Wouldn’t you like more?” She arched her back, pushing out her chest beneath a gray cashmere sweater.
    “ Did Weinberg suggest this?”
    “ I asked him.”
    “ Why?”
    She led his arm around the couch, until he faced her. “It would be fun, don’t you think? Your friends wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off