Free The Heartbreak Lounge by Wallace Stroby Page B

He’d come all this way but he still wasn’t sure what his approach would be, why he was even here.
    He sipped sweet coffee, watched the house. A few minutes later, the front door opened and a slim man with feathered blond hair came out, wearing a waist-length jacket, green scarf, matching gloves. Harry watched him unlock the Blazer, climb behind the wheel. He started the engine, idled there at the curb. Harry could see him talking on a cell phone. After a moment, he pulled away.
    Harry drank coffee, looked at the house. After about five minutes, the door opened again and a man in a yellow warm-up suit and wide headband came out. He was big, over six feet, with the V torso of a weight lifter. He hit the sidewalk,
turned in Harry’s direction and started jogging. Harry looked straight ahead as he ran past the Mustang.
    He watched the windows of the house, saw no movement inside. In his rearview, he saw the jogger thump down to the end of the street, turn left.
    He’d call first, he decided, find a pay phone, dial the cell again. Tell whoever answered who he was, where he was, why he was calling. Try to get her on the phone. If there was no answer, he’d come back, knock.
    He pulled away from the curb, drove past the house and back down to Ocean Avenue. He parked near the fishing pier. Out on the water, the wind was shearing the tops off the waves.
    He looked out at the beach, pictured it in the middle of summer, a long stretch of umbrellas and blankets, radios playing, children laughing. He remembered swimming with her out past the breakers, kissing her as the swells gently lifted them together. He thought about the touch of her skin, the lilac smell of her perfume.
    Full dark now, his the only car on the entire length of Ocean Avenue. He saw movement from the corner of his eye, turned, and then the jogger was standing by his window, lit by a single streetlight.
    Harry looked up at him. He had light crew-cut hair and a wide jaw, arms that hung away from his body. He made a circular motion with his right hand.
    Harry rolled down his window.
    â€œYeah?” he said and the jogger leaned in, reached for the ignition, switched it off. When he pulled his hand back the keys were in it.
    Harry yanked up on the door latch. The jogger dropped the keys into a warm-up pocket, put both hands on the lip of the door, leaning into it, pushing it shut again, holding it there. His hands and wrists were thick with veins.
    Harry let go of the latch.
    â€œWhat are you doing around here?” the jogger said.
    Harry met his eyes. He reached behind the passenger seat with his right hand, found the long aluminum flashlight there.
    â€œAnd what would it be to you?” he said.
    â€œYou’ll tell me unless you want me to drag you out of that car, break both your arms.”
    Harry looked through the windshield, let his breath out.
    â€œMy name is Harry Rane,” he said. “I work for RW Security. I drove out here to talk to Nicole Ellis.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œThat would be between us, wouldn’t it?”
    â€œAnswer the question.”
    â€œI just did.”
    â€œYou got any ID?”
    â€œI do,” Harry said. “And a couple minutes ago, I would have shown it to you. But now you’re just pissing me off. You want to give me my keys back?”
    â€œI’m pissing you off? Tough shit.”
    â€œI guess that’s a no.”
    He brought the flashlight up, pressed the button, shone the bright halon beam full into the jogger’s eyes, blinding him. The jogger’s left hand came up to block the beam and Harry reversed the flashlight, cracked the base of it across the hand still on the door.
    The jogger pulled his hand away and Harry shoved the door open, drove him back. He got out, the flashlight at his side.
    â€œAnd don’t touch the fucking car,” he said.
    He saw what was going to happen, knew there was no way around it. The jogger recovered his