Eddie Munson Jacket Novels & Stories

“Your mother would freak.” Molly takes the clothes, nodding slowly. She changes as discreetly as she can while Eddy and I look away. I can tell Eden has lots of questions, but she knows it’s not the right time to ask. I mean, I would too if Eddy went into a run-down bar and came out looking like Channing from that stripper movie. Molly hands Eddy the Britney outfit, “I don’t think I was supposed to keep this,” she says and he takes it from her, tucking it beside him.

I don’t have any good theories, and she doesn’t feel false, but on these matters, I keep a very open mind. The picture she’s painted for me, the image of her dangling over the tracks, brings to mind my own recent brush with muscle. “You said he was big. Wide, tall, or both?” “Both.” “And he was alone?” She nods. “What was he wearing?” “Jeans, high-top sneakers, and a black jacket.” “What kind of jacket?” I’m picturing Detective Sammy Chen’s motorcycle jacket, but he’s not tall, not even for Chinese. “Like a parka, a winter coat with a fur-lined hood.”

They flashed in exuberance as he spoke to his men. Dressed in a well-worn leather jacket adorned with patches that told stories of various journeys, he seemed to wear his history with pride. The jacket's faded colors and scuffed edges were a testament to the miles he had covered and the adventures he had embarked upon. Beneath the jacket, a plain black t-shirt clung to his muscular torso, accentuating the strength that lay beneath his weathered exterior. In a different life, I may have found him attractive. In some ways he fit right in with the diner’s appearance, he had a long-forgotten James Dean kind of style, but anyone could see that there was a rough, primal side to him as well.

Her palms were sweating. "Two minutes to live, people!" a crew member yelled through a megaphone. "You look like you're about to vomit," a deep, smooth voice murmured beside her. Summer turned her head to see Jaxson standing next to her. He was wearing his official Eastern University varsity jacket—dark blue with heavy leather sleeves and the massive white Bulldog crest on the chest. He looked every bit the elite athlete: broad-shouldered, tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him, and possessing an effortless, infuriating confidence that seemed to draw every eye in the courtyard toward him.

Alex stroked her hair. “No, no I’m alright,” Eddie shook her head, then she flushed crimson. She was still naked under these blankets, Alex was fully clothed. He wore a navy collared shirt that complemented his pale skin, blue eyes, and golden hair. He had on tan slacks and brown shoes. “Wait, can you leave for a moment? I want to get dressed.” “Ah, why don’t you eat first” “Eat now? I-I-” Eddie clutched the bedsheets around her tight.

“Grab yourself a beer and join us old men. You might learn something.” “Old? Speak for yourself. I may be in my fifties now, but I can still go,” Eddie said and grabbed his crouch. They all laughed loudly. **** The sun was almost set. Rich took off his shirt, exposing his tanned muscles. He didn’t have an Incredible Hulk physique like Bruce Hudson, but he still had quite the body. “I hope you got that red bikini on from last night under those clothes,” he said with a bad boy smirk.

Eddie agreed to speak with Marcus when he came visiting and unfortunately Marcus showed up a little earlier than expected. It was a wrong moment for me because Eddie was already preparing to go out. It is Friday and he usually leaves by ten a.m. every day that falls under Friday and returns home before one p.m. I received Marcus inside as I offered him a seat and just then Eddie walked down stairs to the sitting room. He was dressed differently. Unlike his police uniform he wore a milk chinos trousers, Ash top, milk hat and back sandals. His dress code left a bad impression on me as it also got me wondering what he was up to.

Wouldn't that ruin the friendship they've been over all these years? Jack leaned over and grabbed one of the shirts that Edward had brought him. It was a button up shirt, a tad tight but it looked good on him as he looked at himself in the mirror. His chest and arms filled the shirt nicely. He buttoned the shirt and fixed his hair, pushing it to the side and allowing it to lay where it fell.

There was a flash of bitterness in her eyes, but she had to agree and said, "Yes, sir. I'll do it right away." Miss Susan turned around to cook the noodles. Blake turned around and saw Winson pick up a piece of clothes from the box. Winson pinched the shoulders on both sides of his clothes, looked at it with the light, and then leaned against his body. The size was just right. It was a light brown cashmere shirt, which would be very good-looking if matched with a shirt. It was suitable for early spring weather. Winson touched the soft cloth, put the clothes on the table, and took off his school uniform jacket.

I go to the hallway closet where I stashed the bag from the studio. Navy tissue paper. I’ve been carrying it back and forth for two days, moving it from my desk to the car to the closet, trying to decide if this is too much. If it says something I’m not ready to say. I hand it to Nick. “It’s for Mason.” He opens it. Pulls out the jacket. Navy wool. Single button. Blue silk lining. He holds it up and stares at it and his hands go still and he doesn’t speak.