COME MONDAY
COME MONDAY Lonnie was running hard on the beach, sweating bullets. It was late on the Saturday morning of Memorial Day weekend, and the sun was hot and the sky was high. Humid as hell, too. He was about halfway through his fourth mile, and in a few minutes he would be leaving the beach and getting back on the pavement. Then he would run the five blocks to his condo complex and jump in the pool. He loved running on the beach for several reasons. There was usually a breeze. The hard-packed sand was the ideal running surface. And the scenery: the beach babes, slim, hot, and wearing little. It was a small town on the northeast coast of Florida, a quaint throwback to earlier times. No high-rises trashing the land and seascape like …