“Nine little Indians. I sat on my rock and I looked at the empty shore and I wondered if I should follow Bridget and I decided it would not do a damn bit of good. Nor would it do any good to wait there until she passed me on her way back. I stood up and picked up an empty sun-white conch shell and threw it out as far as I could. My shoulder creaked and my arm went slightly dead. Take me out of the game, coach. I can’t put that high hard one close in against the letters any more. All I’ve got lef...t is the slider and the change-up. With the meat of the batting order coming to the plate. I walked back to the house. There was just enough hangover left to make me sweat heavily in the heat. I kept my eyes nearly closed against the painful shimmer of light and heat. Amparo Blakely sat alone at the pool in the shade of an umbrella, reading. I hesitated and then went to the pool, feeling like a large unhappy dog that’s willing to try anything in order to get scratched behind the ears. Maybe I needed that aura of dignity and competence and controlled warmth that she radiated.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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