October Moon - An Eamonn Shute Short Story(3)
Author:Tony McFadden

    His balcony on the 72ndfloor overlooked Biscayne Blvd., and, looking due east, over MiamiBeach, polluted even at this ungodly hour with greased, tanned, tautbodies, and then onward over the Atlantic.

    Miami in October, even in the freshness ofthe (relatively) early morning, still beat the crap out of Ireland onany day. Eamonn settled in quickly, the over abundance of moneyeasing matters considerably.


    Back on the balcony he took a deep breath inthrough his nose, filling his lungs, held it for a few seconds, thenexhaled. He looked at the phone, then back through the sliding doorat the kitchen. “Damn. I need a coffee and a biscuit before I doanything else.”

    He turned about face and headed back into hisapartment, bee-lined to the coffee machine. An accomplished barista,his skills were wasted this morning. He created a short black – anincredibly thick espresso – and toasted a couple of EnglishMuffins. He was making his way back to the balcony when his mobilephone rang again.

    He managed to dig the phone out of his deep robepocket by the fourth ring. ‘Private number’, again.

    “What the bloody hell do you want?”

    “Eamonn?”

    “You’ve been calling my bloody phone forover twenty minutes now. Who d’ya think it might be, if not me?Who, might I be so bold to ask, would YOU be?”

    “Eamonn, it’s me, Nicky.”

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