The Bay of Love and Sorrows
David Adams Richards
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An unflinching and hard-hitting tale of ambition and betrayal.
evening, and tamaracks were budding behind them, while a whiff of dark smoke rose from the dump a little ways away. “What?” Michael asked. “I want my chopper back,” Everette said. “My Harley.” Then he picked up a hammer and tossed it against the wall, so close to the little boy’s head that it surprised everyone, except, it seemed, the little boy himself. “And I’m not paying 426 dollars either.” “Why, where is it?” “Ken’s shop,” Everette said. He wanted to get his bike out of the shop where
suspicious. He sat on the grass, looked here and there, and spat. “Where is the pickle jar?” Silver kept saying, pulling grass up with his hand. “Where is that pickle jar? I’d love to have a look at it. I put my money in it, and it’s been a month and there is not a cent. We have to buy groceries — what in Christ are we doing mixed up in this? What are you and Everette doing?“ Both he and Madonna felt betrayed. Michael did also, but now they both suddenly suspected him. Still, Everette said the
family has a special position and I’ve been to private school doesn’t mean I don’t understand people like Everette Hutch —” He wanted to continue, to keep going, but Delano looked away, embarrassed by this extravagance, and then looked at him again. He stopped smiling. “If this is a time for histrionics,” Delano said, calmly, “sit in the waiting room, where some of his friends might listen to you.” And Michael flushed with anger and embarrassment. He went to the waiting room, feeling he had
when she looked at him he put his head down as she said grace. He had just been asked by Everette Hutch to go into town to get Michael Skid. He was worried, and couldn’t think straight. “Have you stopped screwing?” he asked her. She looked up, blessed herself, and smiled. “Are we going to get a tree?” she said. “Let’s get a tree this year.” “Maybe — I dunno,” he said. He said he wanted to go to Ontario. He was worried. “I wish you was the way you was,” he said finally, “Why?” she asked.
John Delano took over the case that night of December 19, at ten o’clock, as instructed by Sergeant Fine, who now accepted the notion of spots of blood and a darker, more sinister summer, and made no more derisive comments about Delano’s personal motivation of infatuation, or about Tom Donnerel getting what he deserved when he was stabbed. Delano had no sooner gotten back from downriver when Gail and Brian arrived, with Bobby Taylor. The bills were placed in front of him. “Whose money is