All Kinds Of Girls

By Shane Grey

Falling in love is already hard enough! In Shane Grey's seven tales, love is the hardest thing to maintain. Between drug addiction, a violent criminal with a passion to send a message, a spoiled princess, a shy girl from a different time period, a hipster girl one can't help but pine over, and a teen love turned authoress. These are some of the twisted and raw things that make up Shane Grey's first book of short stories, All Kind's of Girls. Not for the faint of heart at times.

"The essence of Richard Laymon is alive and well in Shane Grey." Joe Cauwel, Horror Film Reviewer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shane Grey
• Release date: Apr 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476172453

Shane Grey

Shane Grey is an American Author, Multiple Power Curl World and State Champion, a Father and loving Fiancee.Here is what people are saying about Shane Grey:"Shane Grey is one of the hardest working men in podcasting." -Mike Russo, Growing Up Not Growing Old Podcast."The essence of Richard Laymon is alive and well in Shane Grey." -Joe Cauwel, Horror Film Reviewer.[Shane Grey's ebook, Sincerely, Me] "I really liked this piece. It's creepy and builds up to a surprise at the end. Good job. Worth the read."-Ser Livre, author of We The Victims: A Guide To Relationships For Victim Type Women.[Shane Grey's ebook, Sincerely, Me] "Weird, but ok, liked somewhat." -Eloise Tavares, Smashwords Reader.[Shane Grey's ebook, Phoebe] "A page turner that keeps you reading, a nice bridge between reality and fantasy." -Arnold Brown, Comedian/Actor.[Shane Grey's ebook, The Last Story I Will Ever Write About Her] "Such honesty makes this story a brutal break up story-it made me feel sorry for Missy. Most guys would relate to this story, most ladies would want a guy who really loves them like the main character." -Dora Okeyo, author of From The Heart.

Book preview

All Kinds Of Girls

by

Shane Grey

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Shane Grey

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

This book is for Arturo Bandini & Henry Chinaski

About The Stories

I was drinking every night and reading nothing but Charles Bukowski and John Fante. At work I was stuck monitoring Psych patients within arms reach, close range. When they slept I wrote. Mostly on small steno pads in ink pen. The story Lily was the first short story I ever wrote as an adult. In two years I wrote these all. They weren't based on anything in particular, but back then I wasn't putting any boundaries on my writing, or censoring myself. I seriously was not sure if I would ever let some of these stories even see the light of day. Hope I didn't sicken you too much. Till this day I can't read Jersey without getting nauseous and I had to edit it for ebook format! I hate that story but felt it

deserved a shot. I love all my stories equally, but Emily and Layla are the ones I could read over and over and I laugh every time. The ending to Fiona always make me teary eyed. I'm not sure if any of that means that I'm a narcissist, but probably I am.

Thanks for reading.

1.

Layla

Her name was Layla, she treasured meth, but her drug of choice was Xanax. She adored Xanax. She would take a whole Xany bar, place it on her wooden computer desk, and crush it with the bottom of her flat iron. I must have bought her at least three new flat irons. They always found a way of cracking at the bottom, after that they never got hot enough to flatten even a pancake. Those things are not very cheap and always reminded me the price of vanity.

Layla was a patient at Spearhead Hospital when I met her. She was in the detox program. Coming off some heavy meth use. She came in glowing. Tweaked. Spun, but still a savior. A kitten in silk. Smooth as the night is long. As angelic as a twenty-two year old drug addict can be. Her eyes, large and blue, her lips, supple and firm. Her tits were heavy, even the bra fought to resist the weight of those lovely flesh bags.

Layla was short, no more than five feet, which is small compared to my six foot two inches. The second I met her gaze my heart fluttered something fierce. Wine heart burn? The worst kind. There are two worst kinds. Well, three. Wine heart burn, cranberry juice, and love.

Her bubble ass swinging in her tight jeans, pink low cut shirt, she strutted down the hallway to her assigned room. I followed behind slowly. Heart racing. Mine, not hers. She sensed me and turned around.

Hey. I said.

Hey. Layla replied, her hair in pigtails.

What are you in for?

Meth detox. Too much meth.

I hate when that happens. Layla laughed the dry drug addict chuckle. You need some water?

That would be nice. She smiled and her eyes sparkled, a thousand angels fell. I gave her a small plastic cup filled with cold water from the metal water fountain.

Thanks. Layla threw it back like a shot of whiskey.

No problem. Are you single?

Are you hitting on me in a mental hospital?

Psych hospital. Yeah, I am, is that bad?

It would be if I thought you were creepy.

So I'm not creepy?

I don't know. Are you?

Sometimes.

Sometimes creepy can be fun.

You have no idea, baby doll.

Three days later she was discharged from the hospital, Fully Recovered. I picked her up and we went to my crumbling apartment building. The place needed a plumber. The neighbors sat in front of their units with forty ounces of beer and loaded pistols. The neighborhood kids ran around in diapers. And if they weren't black, they didn't speak English.

But the rent was cheap and no one got into your business as long as you minded your own.

This is really nice. Layla said when we were standing in the doorway.

Not really.

Why not?

It could be cleaner.

She looked at me with those sea blue eyes and buildings tumbled.

I'll clean up tomorrow. She said.

You don't have to do that.

I want to. So what do you want to do now?

How about a beer?

I'm in recovery. She said sternly. Then we both laughed and cracked a couple of cold ones. She seemed to be really happy. For the first time in two years I felt happy too. I kissed her for the first time six beers later, her tongue was amazing.

What should we do now? Layla asked.

Take off your clothes. I said and she obliged. Starting with her top and bra. Then her jeans and panties.