No Way Out Fern Michaels (e reader books .TXT) 📖

“Take it easy, Frank. We don’t know what was really going on with him. Maybe it’s a phase.”

Frank grunted. “Men don’t go through phases, Jeanne. They’re either on the bus or under the bus, as far as I’m concerned.”

Jeanne reached over and patted him on his butt. “You’re such a macho dude. That’s why I love you so much.”

Frank gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “As I said, he better keep his distance, or he’ll have some shrapnel in his ass.”

Chapter Twenty-three

It was just about dinnertime, and Mitchel wanted Greg and Elaine to have a quiet evening together, so he headed to the bowling alley. When he got there, he spotted Clay’s truck in its usual spot. “Jeez, doesn’t that guy have a home?” Mitchel muttered under his breath.

Clay actually had a home, but it was the kind you could hitch to the back of a truck. It was more like a camper, with a two-burner propane stove, a small toilet area, and a small sofa bed. What Clay did about showering was a mystery. Although there were plenty of times when it was obvious he hadn’t had one in a few days. He’d been thrown out of the bowling alley more than once for “stinkin’ up the joint,” as the manager proclaimed as he showed Clay the door.

Mitchel figured he’d grab something at the food vendor, whose menu ranged from hot dogs and hamburgers to the ever-popular nachos. Pete ran the junk-food part of the place, which also served beer in wax-coated paper cups. He was wiping down the counter as Mitchel approached. “Pete. What’s up?” Mitchel greeted him.

“Same old same old. How about you?” Pete anticipated Mitchel’s wanting a beer, so he poured some into a cup and set it down in front of him.

“Not much,” Mitchel responded. “Thanks.” He took a swallow. “Man, are you ever going to get real mugs, cups, somethin’? These cups are disgusting. And didn’t they phase them out years ago?”

“Yep. Sure did. I got myself a pallet’s worth for practically nothin’.”

“I guess you get what you pay for.” Mitchel snickered.

“What brings you here durin’ the week, and at dinnertime, no less?”

“I wanted to give my brother a break. He and Elaine needed some private time.”

“That was nice of you.” Pete almost sounded sarcastic.

“Hey, they’ve been really good to me through all of this. I’m surprised Elaine hasn’t kicked my butt out the door by now. I have to admit, I haven’t been the best houseguest.”

“Do tell.” Pete threw the towel over his shoulder.

“Pete, you’ve known me a long time. I know I’ve been off a bit lately.”

“You ain’t lyin’ about that.”

“Yeah, yeah. But the other day, when I was with Jackson, I realized how important he was to me.”

“You guys seemed to be having a good time. Even your mother. I can’t recollect the last time I seen her smilin’ like that.”

“Believe me, we were all in shock. I don’t know what got into her, but I hope that whatever it is, it stays there.” Mitchel took a pull of his beer. “Cripes, this is disgusting. Come on, man, I know you have some other kind of container you can pour a beer into.”

“It never bothered you before. When did you get so particular?” Pete reached under the counter and pulled out a white coffee mug.

“Oooh . . . now that’s real fancy,” Mitchel snarked back at him.

“No, seriously, man. What’s up with you?”

“Nothin’. Just evaluating things, that’s all.” Mitchel poured the beer from the waxy paper cup into the mug and took a swig. “Ah. Much better. Thanks.”

“So, what’s happening with you and your old lady?”

“Man, I wish you wouldn’t call her that.” Mitchel reached for a napkin in the metal container sitting on the counter.

“And fussy, too?” Pete gave him a shocked look. “Don’t tell me you started goin’ to church.”

“Don’t be funny. Like I said, I’m evaluating things.”

“Uh-huh.” Pete grunted. “Ya want somethin’ to eat?”

“Got any specials?” Mitchel was kidding him.

“Yeah. I got new corn chips for the nachos,” Pete retorted.

“Perhaps I’ll try the mystery-meat sandwich,” Mitchel kept up.

“One filet mignon comin’ up.” Pete chuckled and yelled into the window behind him. “Tony! Slap a burger on the grill for our friend here.” He turned back to Mitchel. “Would you like fries with that, sir? A pickle to tickle your fancy? And what about cheese?”

Mitchel was in a funny mood. “Perhaps a fine Gruyère?”

Pete burst out laughing. “You ain’t gonna find no gree-yare anywhere near this place! That’s fer sure.”

“I guess whatever you have in the back that isn’t green will have to do,” Mitchel shot back.

Pete wiped his hands and put the towel behind the bar. He took Mitch’s mug and gave him a refill. “On the house.”

“What’s gotten into you, being all nice and stuff.”

“Must be contagious,” Pete bellowed.

Mitch gave him a wave of the mug. “Thanks, mate!”

Pete leaned across the counter. “So, tell me, what is going on with the missus.”

“Huh. Well, it’s no secret we got into a thing a little over two weeks ago. It was bad. Really bad.” Mitchel started to explain, with as little detail as possible. He didn’t want people to think he was a wife beater, although a description of what had happened would eventually get into the local news outlets as soon as he had his hearing and there was an outcome. “We got into a fight. I was in a wild kind of mood and scared the heck out of Colleen. And Jackson. Then, if that wasn’t enough, I trashed the kitchen.” Mitchel looked forlorn. “She called the cops, and they cuffed me and dragged me out. I spent two nights in jail.”

“Wow. Did she press charges?”

“Why do you think I was in jail?” Mitchel gave him a “you dumbass” look.

“Right. So, now what? What about your boy? You guys seemed to be having a good time the other day.”

“I have supervised custody until things get sorted out.”

“Is that why your mother