Fifteen years after he tormented fellow students at Catahoula Bayou School, Junior Guidry is broke, drunk, one-legged, and living in a wreck of a trailer on the edge of a snake-infested swamp. He's survived an oil-rig accident that would've killed most men but, with the help of a good lawyer, made him rich instead. But he's squandered his fortune on drink, blackjack, womanizing, and brawling, leaving a wake of wrecked cars and friendships, not to mention lost or stolen wooden legs. Then the mysterious Iris Mary Parfait enters his life. She's on the run from a tragic childhood and a bad, bad man. When news reaches Junior that a bar owner with Mob connections has posted a $100,000 bounty on Iris's head because she knows too much about him, Junior realizes he could regain his fortune—but at what cost?
Narrated in Junior's unvarnished voice, Junior's Leg takes the reader on a singular journey through the mind of a troubled man. It is at turns unsettling, ribald, sexy, and poignant—a bold stroke of storytelling that ultimately plumbs the possibilities of love and redemption, even for as unlikely a candidate as Junior.
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|Title of eBook: Junior's Leg|
|Release Date: 09-15-2001|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Random House Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Junior's Leg|
|Devices||Samsung Tablet, Apple Ipad & Iphone, Barnes & Noble Nook, Kobo eReader, Aluratek Libre, Iliad, Nokia, Blackberry, Hanlin|
|Note||ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it.|
For all I knew, she could have been a ghost or a robber.
Ghost or robber, I just laid there on the sofa watchin’ her come. Either one could cut my sorry throat and what could I do about it?
If she’s gonna cut my throat, I hope she’s got a sharp knife.
I’m drunk, or close to it. I am what I am. What I always am—goddam Junior Guidry.
And anyway, the door ain’t locked. Nobody comes out here to this miserable godforsaken place. Ain’t nuttin’ out here but me and the swamp and nootra-rats and mosquitoes and a few damn ole hoot owls.
Before I pawned my 12-gauge, I shot me a few of them noisy bastids. You’d think they’d learn, but they don’t.
The ole crook who put in these lots and sold me this wreck of a trailer calls this place Hackberry Bend Acres. But the ole Cajuns call this place Mauvais Bois—the bad woods—and I know why. This bit of high ground I’m on ain’t nuttin’ but a finger in the eye of the Great Catahoula Swamp. Get a hurricane blowin’ through here and this trailer will be a submarine headin’ for the Gulf of Mexico and I’ll be up to my ass in water moccasins. Hell, there’s probably a dozen of ’em crawlin’ around under this trailer right now.
When the girl come in the door, it squeaked on rusty hinges. She didn’t knock. She just come in, slow and sneaky like a dog that’s been shot at a few times. She looked pale as the belly of a sac-à-lait. She had a small suitcase in ...