Read Simple Intent for Free Online Page B

with Terry Gross. Man, I never knew NPR could be so brutal!”
    “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You live for the media! What are you talking about? You did fine. Hell, you probably even had someone copy the broadcast for you. Now, stop changing the subject. You know I’m talking about Gallo.”
    Eddie finished tieing his tie, then lowered himself into his calfskin chair and began packing his briefcase. “Oh, that.”
    “Very funny, Eddie. Remember who you’re dealing with here.”
    “No need to worry, Ted.” Deluca glanced at his pocket calendar, saw the words Cape Cod and a phone number. He smiled. “Everything’s under control.”
    “All right, then. Do me proud.” With that, Theodore Wells Montgomery hung up. 
    Do you proud? Deluca scoffed. That’s all you got for me, Ted? I’m out of tricks here, and I’m supposed to do you proud? Wait a minute. Deluca grinned saying, “You still got it, Fast Eddie. Yes, you do.”
    He shoved two folders and a tape labeled ‘Gross-Deluca interview’ into his briefcase and left his office tell his secretary he’d be at Nana’s, and to page him in thirty minutes.
     
    Ken Reilly felt like hell. He attempted a smile in the mirror. It made him nauseous. He ran his hands through his hair, tried the smile again, then gave up and found a disposable razor in the shower and raked it over his cheeks.
    “Hey! You okay in there?’ The girl rapped on the door.
    A dot of blood appeared on Reilly’s chin. He grabbed a hand towel and held it to his face. It smelled like baby powder. “I’m fine. Be right out.”
    “I’ve gotta go, Sweetie.”
    Reilly had met her the night before in a loud, dark bar. She was still a looker this morning, but she was paler than he’d remembered and definitely too damn loud. Something he didn’t plan on waking up to every day.
    The girl was waiting at the apartment door in some kind of waitress uniform and holding two commuter mugs. She seemed shorter than Reilly remembered.
    “Thank you.” He smiled thinly, took a sip then wished he could spit it out.
    She jabbered all the way down to the street, and when she admitted that last night’s car had been borrowed and that they would have to take the bus, Reilly begged off. He kissed her quickly, mumbled something about calling her when he got back from Acapulco then practically ran around the corner.
    He slid the cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial. 
    Sailor answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
    “Help.”
    “Reilly? What is it? Where are you?”
    “I’m stuck in Cheltenham. I need a ride. Please, Sailor. I promise I’ll pay you back.” Reilly took another sip of the coffee then spit it out and tossed the whole mug in the bushes.
    Sailor sighed, but was secretly happy for an excuse to get out of the cramped cubicle. “Okay. Where are you?” 
    He gave her directions then started walking. Somewhere between the street corner and a small coffeehouse, Reilly found a little blue pill in his pocket.
    He sat under the yellow awning sipping his double espresso and nibbling on a scone. Sailor saw him as she pulled up. She liked how he seemed so comfortable. He might have been a famous writer in a café in Provence. She half-expected him to light up a Gauloise and adjust his beret. But when he saw her and approached, she said, “You look like hell. Get in.”
    Reilly got into the car. “Good morning to you, too. Hell, huh? I was going for the sexy legal genius look.”
    Sailor gave him one of his mother’s looks, the one that said, ‘Will you please be serious for one minute?’ His mom had never understood him. She took things so personally, like thinking the bogus sit-com about the overweight divorced woman working two jobs while supporting her mother and raising five kids was all about her. Reilly didn’t know where she got that shit. The woman lived in Memphis, for God’s sake.
    Reilly was a funny guy. He knew years ago he had the gift. Teachers, nuns, or old ladies with trampled