Even in the shadow of war, the friendship of children is the most effective melting pot.
At seven years old I was already more of a soldier than they would ever be. A better secret agent. A real stand-up guy, even. Like, Aunt Maeve would start smoking and reaching for a bottle in her handbag, and I loved her, so you’re not hearing it from me. My neighbor from across the street was inside his front door with some man when I was on the sidewalk. Mr. Fessente told me he had to teach that man a lesson was all, and no need to tell anybody, OK?… Read the rest
Enjoy this sneak preview of the first story on Plan B, here in its entirety for your reading pleasure. It is a tale of felonies, fishermen and foodies, not for the faint of heart. Of course, the faint of heart wouldn’t be here in the first place.
Diver Joe slipped and slithered and stumbled through the pre-dawn dank, between the lobster pots. Less than an hour to sunrise, running way late, riding the edge the way binge drinking makes you—sure, one more, plenty of time. Until the clock runs out.
Rockport had been a dry town forever; archetypical, right down to the de rigueur liquor store just across the city line, decked out like a Christmas tree; winking, beckoning.… Read the rest