The Whack Job - An Eamonn Shute Short Story(5)
Author:Tony McFadden

    She grabbed his hand and led him to the beach. “Take off your shoes and socks and roll up those pant legs. Whenwill you ever wear shorts and flip flops?”

    Eamonn assumed that last question wasrhetorical. She’d seen his legs before. He didn’t think she’dwant to see them naked again.

    He complied though, and a few short minuteslater they were barefoot, strolling north on Miami Beach, Eamonn waveside and Nicky on his left. Unlike him, she was in appropriateclothes: a shell print sundress and thin-strapped sandals that shecarried in her left hand. The top of her head was about in line withhis chest, making her about 5’ 4” to his 6’ 6”. He lookeddown at her auburn hair. Beautiful, thick, lustrous, shampoo-adquality hair. He ran his fingers through it and rested his hand onher shoulder. A light onshore breeze kept the small waves lapping attheir feet and her hair restlessly brushing against her neck.

    “So, a relaxing day on my balcony is out ofthe question?”

    “It is out of the question if you want tospend the day with me.” She looked up at him, shielding her eyesfrom the morning sun. “You dowant to spend the day with me, don’t you?”

    “Aye, lass. I do. So what shall we do, doyou think?” They were approaching a breakwater, a spit of sandsticking about 100 feet into the ocean ending in a row of rock. Acrowd was gathering.

    It was an official looking crowd, with police,medical examiners and crime scene tape. “You know, I think weshould head back the other way.”

Most Read
Top Books