liver & Trippa

A code of living handed down through generations

 LIVER AND TRIPPA Chapter One He walked out onto the veranda and started down the steps. Deja Vu tickled at his memory. The flat in Liverpool too had had a veranda with steps down to the back garden. These steps were wooden like the barn they now lived in. All the houses, all the buildings in town were wooden except for the high school and the new fire station. He wondered why they built so temporarily. He'd listened to the three little piggies story and understood, or thought he had, the moral to the tale. Oh well one of these days he'd understand these American ways. Right now he needed to find work. Dad was out of a job and money was tight. If he needed pocket money he was going to have to earn it. The apartment over the barn was finished. He'd been assigned the cesspool. It was eight feet deep and eight feet wide, and with the exception of several large granite boulders that he'd needed block and tackle help with had been relatively easy digging. That was done and working and now he was free to find work. He walked down the back road towards the two lane highway. His chinos and long sleeved shirt, along with carefully polished shoes were rapidly gathering dust from the twist circles of wind. He brushed them off with his hands and crossed the highway to get to the first business. It was a small one story restaurant with three steps up to an open double door. There were no cars in the parking lot except for a woody station wagon pulled in beside the service entrance. He considered trying further up toward the four corners. This did not look too promising. "Excuse me sir" he said softly to a man who had appeared from behind an opening door. The man stood there in black trousers, with a white shirt and open waistcoat. He was tie less and wore shoes similar to his father's with stitching behind well shined toes. He looked up into the blackest eyes he had ever seen. "I was hoping you might need some hired help sir" "What can you do to help me?" The eyes looked as if they were seeing everything, and Donald was not comfortable. First he felt rebellious and defensively angry, then he realized the man was judging him, well d****t isn't that what you want him to do. He stood there letting the man look. Then realized a question needed answering. "I can dust off those tables, and chairs, sweep that floor, and generally help in the kitchen sir". He then thought ' I've just told him his restaurant is dirty. There goes that job.' He stood there in silence looking into those black eyes and waiting to be told to leave. It was a long wait. "When can you start?" "Now, sir" "What about school?" "I get through at two o'clock most days, and I'm home by half past" "Where do you live?" asked Sal. There was something about this skinny kid with an odd trace of accent that made him want to know more. He obviously had manners, and had faced up to him without fear, and yet no defiance. The kid turned and pointed toward a barn at the bend in the road. "That barn has an apartment in it and that's where we live, sir" "Okay come on in to the kitchen, What's your name?" "Donald sir" "I'm Sal, Salvatore Maggliani, and you don't have to call me sir" He reach into the table drawer and taking out a paring knife handed it to the waiting boy. "There's potatoes in that bin peel about a dozen" "Where's the potato peeler?" "How old are you Donald?" "Fifteen sir". Sal's right eyebrow rose as he glanced upward. "At fifteen you need to know how to use a knife" "But potato will be wasted s--" "No it will not" Sal left him there peeling potatoes with a paring knife and went off into his office. Donald peeled potatoes, two dozen. There was a lot of potato peel, none of it was wasted. Later the paring knife was sharpened regularly and he became deft with either hand. They had not discussed payment and Donald wasn't worried. If it wasn't enough he'd find another job. Sal watched him finding things to be done and doing them for a couple of days, not saying much, but letting the lad know he approved, which was easy to do. The two of them conversed in unfinished sentences, sometimes unfinished words, a lifted eyebrow, a shrug, a hesitation, crinkling eyelids. They talked of Liverpool, Wales, Tuscany, Sicily, of how the people lived and acted. Sal learned of tickling trout, and how to snare rabbits with deliberately dirty hands. Of gypsies and fortune tellers,and wild geese that fly free. How to survive in a city was a lesson they had both learned and now shared with each other. Sal had been particularly interested in the wild geese fly free lesson. Donald had been taught all the secret signs and their answers by his Irish grandmother, as had other Liverpool Irish children. It had helped his survival, and others he had met, while walking city streets. None of them would allow harm to a fellow "wild goose" Sal realized what the boys had actually learned, and wondered if the Irish grandmother had known what she had given him. "Any time you need money Donald, No not wages" His voice changed and went softer. Donald stopped what he was about to say, and listened closely. "If times get tougher at home I want to know. I can help and no one but us will be the wiser. I know the guy who runs Quincy Lumber and your father can stay working there as long as he wants to." It was not what Donald was expecting and he was at a total loss for words. Knowing his father, and his independent ways there was no way to talk to him about this. Sir, I appreciate your feelings but please leave my family and father to fend for themselves. We will get by and on our own as long as Dad wants to." He slid the wet cloth across the hot grill following it almost immediately with the one soaked in oil. Sal stared at him for the longest time, and Donald wondered if he'd hurt his feelings, not that he could change anything. He knew his father. "Just know that if you need me I'm here Donald" "Yes sir, and I'm here too sir" It was the most said in a conversation between the two of them that used actual words.           The old man had spent almost all day Wednesday concocting his special spaghetti sauce, chopping and crushing, stirring and tasting, and generally taking up the whole center kitchen table to prepare his favorite meal.  Donald came in halfway through it, and immediately started to clean up.  He emptied the slop bucket into the pig dumpster out back, and almost puked from the aroma.  The wind was blowing at the hinges side as usual.  The pig farmer was two days late,  as usual.  He once more reminded himself to be overheard talking about that new pig farm on West Street.  Back inside the smell of Sicilian sauce was permeating the building.        He turned on the exhaust fans.  The old man stopped crushing garlic and glared at him.  Donald immediately shut off the fans.   He picked up the broom and swept up the mess on the floor, using slow strokes so that no dust was disturbed.  The black eyes missed nothing, and shone with approval.  He spoke, " If people going by smell this we'll attract customers like flies."  "Right now it's drifting toward the swamp, and less folk 'll smell it."  "And that's good sir?" One eyebrow lifted slightly.  Donald suddenly understood.  "Would you like some coffee sir?".  Sal nodded and watched the kid head for the bar.  It was amazing how much this boy of fifteen was understanding unsaid words.   He thought about the table crowd and what had and had not been said.   Donald handed him the cup of coffee laced with anisette, and started toward the dining room.   "Wait Don, I want to ask you something" Donald's right eyebrow raised slightly.  "Never mind it's not that important".  "yes sir I'll just dust off the tables"    Sal stirred the mix and tasted the hot end of the wooden spoon. Smiling in satisfaction he poured the sauce carefully into the big white bowl to cool. He picked it up effortlessly and set it onto the shelf against the broom closet.   By Friday evening it would be perfectly aged.   He walked into the dimly lit dining room, and watched Donald turning over  place mats , unwrapping, wiping, and re wrapping silverware.   Maybe a couple would stop in.   Empty was okay.  Dirty wasn't.  What had made this kid pick his place to ask for work?  He realized it was the closest to home in this direction, and thanked Lady Luck for his choice to hire him.   It had just been a test of his judgement of people at first.   Nothing wrong with that yet.   He refilled his cup and sat down to read the paper.       Friday came and with it came trouble.  He'd been having his morning coffee when the phone had rung twice. It was the  party line phone.   Not the one from his old office.  The twins  were acting up at the school again, and this was only their second day.   He didn't try to tell her to take care of it.   She'd been so fragile after that caesarian he'd handled her with kid gloves.   She was healthy now but the brush with death and losing one of them had taken its toll.   He remembered the laughing go to hell teenager he'd fallen so madly in love with, actually still was in love with, and sighed as he got into the Woody.   It rattled as usual and as usual he swore to get someone more competent to fix it.  The German mechanic was having a hard time staying in business and Sal liked him.   Donald had suggested he'd make a better living selling and fixing Volkswagons.  Those little round beetle shaped midgets.  Who the hell would buy those things?.  Any kid who couldn't afford to pay for gas. It was up to 25 cents a gallon in some places now.  He rolled North on the wide highway slowing down for dead man's bend and  pulled into the Jenney station at Assinippee.         The guy came out of the garage end wiping his hands on a rag that he stuffed in the front bib of his overalls.  He looked at the Woody in admiration.  "Fill sir?" "Regular" Sal nodded.  "Check oil sir?"  Sal pulled the lever and the kid opened the hood. " y 'down a quart sir"   He started to reach for the Coke bottle with the funnel cap.  The old man's eyes stopped him cold.  "I keep it a quart low".  The kid closed the hood  and started toward the pumps.  Sal pulled the lever again and the kid looked guilty.  He opened the hood, put on the oil cap, and re closed the hood, carefully wiping the smudge off with his sleeve.  He then washed the wind shield and back window, took out the nozzle without topping it off and said " That's two seventy three sir"   Sal handed him two seventy five and waited for his change.           Donald came to work to a closed  sign on the door.   He opened both doors ,  turned the sign around, then smiled and hung it in the side window.   He went into the kitchen to find the butcher had left all the meat on the table in a wooden cranberry box that had seen better days.  The ice had long since melted and the bloody water had leaked to form a wide pool on the perfectly level table.  'Not the nicest way to see perfection', he thought and proceeded to fill the meat cooler shelves with the soggy contents,  putting dish towels under each item.  Taking the box he turned to go, trying not to get any blood on his school chinos.  The box caught on the cloth covered bowl of sauce as his feet slipped on the wet tile floor.   Luckily the bowl stayed on the shelf.   Unluckily the bottle of bleach  he'd opened to clean with didn't.   The Sicilian sauce was ruined before Donald hit the floor.   He put the cranberry box on the back stoop and picked the bottle out of the bowl.  He dumped what was left onto the table  and proceeded to clean up the mess.   When he was done the phone rang twice.   If it had rung once he would have ignored it.   "Hello?"  "Donald it's me, did the butcher leave the liver and trippa with his order?, good, now I want you to slice it into two inch or two and a half inch strips put it in the oven with five sliced onions and cover it with the brozzute  and put it in the oven for fifteen minutes at 400 degrees then take it out and cover it with the sauce.   I got to go   I'll be back as soon as I can."   He stood there looking at the now dead phone then slowly hung it up.      They all sat at the extended table in the middle of the dining room, sipping wine and talking business in their usual coded  fashion to keep Donald unaware of what they were really saying.   The candles had been a surprise and the salad had been sumptuous.  The old man sat at the head of the table looking forward to his favorite meal, and enjoying every minute of Donald's obviously first try at  serving a meal in grand style.   The soup was a chowder and it wasn't canned.  There were chunks of crab, lobster, clams, oysters, prosciutto, and corn.  The entree was served family style on three large platters.   It looked like dark brown worms mixed with deep fried strips of almost the same shape and size,  spread over a bed of brown and white  pebbles that over flowed to the edge of the black red lines of decorative sauce.   Donald looked nervous as hell as he sat down on the other end of the table.   The old man sat there looking at the enormous amount of food and realizing this was the entree.  "The liver"  He started to say.  "I tripped " Donald started to explain.  "And the trippa" Sal continued.  "I wrecked the sauce" Donald continued.  They were both talking at once and the rest of the crowd was still, sitting looking at the platters.  The old man ladled a small portion onto his plate and took a tentative mouthful.  He chewed for a moment and then swallowed.  There was no sign of delight or disgust.  He put down his fork, picked up the ladle and filled his plate to over flowing.  "You should trip more often Donald and I do not want you cooking for customers.  Mangez mangez"   They finished every last bite while Donald sighed with relief.  He knew how hard the old man had worked to perfect that sauce.   Later after they were all gone he came into the kitchen where Donald was drying the last plate.  "I'm going fishing tonight, want to come along?"  "Good,  I'll pick you up about seven.  Wear a light hooded jacket."            He drove up the short dirt driveway and backed to the big sliding barn door.  The small square bow of the pram stuck out of the Woody almost as far as the door tied to it.  He stopped inches short of touching door to door.  Donald came down the stairs carrying a salt water fishing pole.    "Leave that here Donald.  I have both rods rigged already" Donald leaned the pole against the barn, and got in the front seat. Sal noticed the large hooded rain coat in his lap.  "you come prepared lad, but I don't think it'll rain.  I brought two skeeter covers in case you forgot".  The Woody turned just before the restaurant and bounced down the grassy lane.  In moments they were backing up to the cranberry reservoir pond.  It didn't take long until they had the lines in the water.  There was a tin square bucket between them with a wooden cover screwed to the top.  They sat in comfortable silence for a while, well not silence, the croaking frogs and singing crickets were back ground music.  Then Sal felt a bite and slackened his rod.  Donald watched.  He waited a breath and then set the hook.  Seconds later a hornpout hung before them on 15 pound test line.  He reached over as the fish swung in and expertly slip his fingers around the  horns.  "Y' have to be careful doing this Don, these sting for days if they get you." He held the fish and showed the boy where his fingers were.  Then he held the pout down on the wooden cover and cut into it almost where his fingers were.  The fish stopped squirming and he removed the hook from the upper lip.  He stuck his fingers into the fish and pulled.    "Presto" he said and tossed the head, tail, skin and guts, into the water.  He rinsed the meat in the pond and dropped it into the bucket.  Donald felt a bite and let the line go slack.  He then repeated the entire operation and rinsed his hands in the water.  Several minutes later Sal guessed it was time and asked Donald exactly how he had prepared the liver and trippa.  Don told him the whole story of the bloody table, even to how incredibly level it was.   Sal listened while catching more fish.  " I did the scouse  first because I'd seen it done so many times in Birken 'ead by the Swede dockers when the Welshmen dropped off their catch, the corn and bacon was an addon  cos I didn't 'ave enough t' go round. " Unconsciously the boy's accent slipped in as he repeated the Swedish scouse recipe.  "It's why they call people from Liverpool scousers sir.  There's no real recipe for it it's whatever is at hand and comes in all colours from cabbage green to burnt meat brown."  "Tell me about the liver and trippa"  " Well I sliced the liver as thin as I could so it would cook fast and not dry out like mum's does.  The tripe was a little harder.   I took the two layers apart with the filet knife and sliced up the gristle like the liver.  Then I deep fried it  till it was crispy like bacon and put it aside. Oh I had the liver soaking in winewater all this time. Then I took the other side and sliced it up to match the liver.   Then I made a wet sauce out of egg whites and brandy and some of that nutty liqueur on the top shelf.  I put all that in the white bowl.  Then I  mixed up onion powder cheese flour with some walnuts I ground up, and salt and pepper.  Then I deep fried them too.  After that I fried up a lot of small diced potatoes in olive oil and that dark red vinegar till they were all brown.  Then I did the onions the same way, oh and the garlic too but only after the onions were glassy.  I kept tasting and adding stuff after that like those green things that taste woodsy.  Then I made a sauce out of the liver scrapin's .  That was the last thing I did, because the liver was done so fast and I didn't want it to get cold.  Oh and I scraped a lemon and orange on top with the Mozzarella cheese bits."  Sal sat there rinsing the bucket full of fish in awed wonder.  "Did you say onion powder cheese flour?"  "Yessir, I used almost half the jar.  It's the dry grated stuff you shake on spaghetti"  They loaded the boat back into the Woody and Sal took him home.   "I'll cook the fish tomorrow Donald"  " Be in early we'll do a Boston breakfast for the crew,"  The hour and a half drive to the North End was spent cooking liver and tripper in his mind.  He was going to have to tip that damned butcher for being so inept.    Years later, twenty or more..... working construction in and around Boston with Sid, his brother -in-law, who had a room in the hotel Bradford and was a regular in the bar next door. He went with him one day to outwait the traffic before he headed home. Sid told him to keep a low profile, for it was a rough crowd and he thought some of them were Mafia. He seemed to get along with the drinkers well enough, so he relaxed slowly sipping his vodka tonic. The pool table was busy and Sid had wandered off, probably to the head. He watched the very tall, very black pool shark feeding voraciously and smiled as their eyes met. Seconds later, his neck was bent back as far as needed to look up into two rather red angry eyes, "You see sump'n shithead?" The place was very quiet as Sid pushed through the crowd. "He's with me," he said quickly, "I'll take care of it." "You'd better," said the shark and turned back to the able. Sid started to lead him outside, then stopped when he realized he was alone. "Do you always shoot this badly, sir, or did my smile throw you off your game?" 
Tall guy turned around, cue in his right hand and realized the eight ball was tossing up and down in a rather large left hand for such a small man who smiled into his eyes as if they were a target. He never saw the right as fingers struck and squeezed his adam's apple. The eight ball smashed his ear and for a falling second, they were eye to eye. The bouncer vaulted over the bar to meet a forehead slamming into his face and a fist buried into a soft solar plexus. Silence reigned as the owner stepped out of the back office. Eyes met in mutual recognition. "Al, why don't you help Junior at the bar for awhile? Take Stretch downstairs to cool off first. This guy's okay in here anytime. And Tony, relax..... I've seen what he can do to a potato." Twenty years later still........... this neatly bearded white haired little guy is writing poetry to beat hell on an internet cafe when some smartass geek starts to hack him apart for the hell of it because he can. And no way is any dumb a*s old poet gonna do anything to stop him. And he's right, but there's a smarter geek out there who can find him. There are some folk who can persuade him to do it. And this quiet happy go lucky old man even now can get seriously pissed. He carries a cell phone and still knows their numbers. Is it worth the karma? Chapter 2 It's a rainy afternoon, not pouring, just misty silent raindrops. Passing cars splatter through wetness. The poet tries unsuccessfully to concentrate on rewriting an older work. He's sitting at his computer as the memory of meeting Sally again comes flooding back. "There's someone back here you might want to see." Their eyes lock again, as his eyebrows shake to wider opened eyes. He rushes through the crowd scattering out of his way to reach the office door. There, sitting in a raised recliner, mimicking a throne, is the man who hired him those many years ago. Several of the old kitchen table crowd are sitting with a few others in silence. He ignores them, rushing to envelope the small old man in a hug of tears and kisses. No words are spoken. None are needed. Glasses appear, wine is poured, bread is broken. The silence is deafening to a few, comfortable and familiar to the two that matter. "You were right to go son." "Yes sir, but...." "You were watched for a long time, but you know that" "Yes sir, but..." "Sally," a nod to his son, the owner now," he took care of that for me......at least most of it ..." "He disappeared - pop, right off the face of the earth. He hasn't talked to anyone at all!!" "Relax Sally ... it's ok ... Canchutini … ain't been back." The old eyes look back at the silent boy he hired and widen to quickly close. "Where are you living now?" "I'm married with children a little south of where we were. Would you like to see?" "Get the limo, Vin." They were on their way south, leaving Sid in shocked amazement. Sally was following in Donald's pick-up with two large well dressed twins, G and GG. The windows were wide open and they were enjoying the ride. Their ties were folded into vest pockets creating bulges to join others. Sitting back on the leather limo seat wiping his face with a large silk handkerchief, obviously satisfied with the way things are going, he asks quietly, "Are you still living on the lake next to that Greek place?" "No, sir." Oddly, he'd never called him anything but sir. Ever. "We're living in an old farmhouse next to a river." " Got a garden? "You'll see." His head picked up a little and the old days between them tickled back. These two had had many conversations in that little restaurant. Gaps filled with unsaid words, unneeded words. He'd learned the life history of this boy man, veteran of Liverpool's city streets and come to respect his code of life. He had not wanted this boy in any criminal activity. The no backup eyes and the real honesty were too pure for the only professional career he could offer. They both had known this in his senior year. The parting had been hard. Enemies knew how much the kid had meant to the old man, and a few had tried to get to him through the boy. Sally had fixed all that properly. He liked Donald. Everybody had liked Donald, except Canchutini. He had hated him since the first time they met. He'd told him to do something, and the kid had totally ignored him. Then he'd grabbed him to teach him a lesson. The kid instead of squirming to get away, had turned on him. No one had grabbed the kid before, and no one ever did again. Sal had seen it in his eyes when he hired him. You can take a kid out of the city, but the city goes with him. And this kid had had the run of Liverpool. The limo rolled down the back roads after passing where the restaurant had been, stopping once outside a cemetery. At Donald's comment, "They're both in there now," they went on. He'd met the boy's parents once, a nice couple who had come here for their children. Soon they pulled into the driveway and got out to mill around. "Needs work." "It's getting it. "Take a lifetime." "Of course, sir." "Barbara, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine from Hanover." "Sir, this is my wife Barbara, and these are my daughters Linda, Dianne, and Kathleen. "Sal Maggliano, Barbara, and I'm delighted to meet you all I've brought wine. Vin the wine please." They all went into the house except for Sally and the twins who were wandering over the gardens in awe, tasting and smelling the fresh herbs. "You built this brickwork, Donald? And the glass block window and archway? This fireplace works?" "Of course!" "You shot this deer?" "400 pounds." "That is a mounted head all hunters must envy. This fire place is well done too, I love the mantel. It feels so smooth and looks so rough." They all finally settled down to a feast Barbara had started when her brother had called her to tell her what was going on. Otherwise, she'd have been totally surprised and Donald, who everybody loved, would have found out what pissed was. He was not off the hook yet either, but Sal was working on that. Oddly enough, she was having the time of her life. The girls were all busy telling the twins about the horses and the gardens and how Uncle Sid and dad had put the pool in. Vinnie had taken over serving and bartending. Everyone knew exactly what to do and if they didn't, a quick nod from Sally fixed that too. They went out onto the deck for coffee as Donald and the old man, sipping slowly, wandered into the herb gardens. From there it was a few steps into Barbara's rose garden. "It's really a nice job she's been doing here, Don." "Sit on this bench and I'll pick you a rose to take home, sir." The knife slid across the stem and the rose slipped free. "See the darker ring inside the cupping? 
It took a while, but it's a breed of it's own. Yes, I registered it a few years ago … as Canchutinia." Old eyes looked down at the ground then up into the eyes he'd loved at fifteen. "Sally will love this!" He smiled. "I'll give it to him on the way home. I've missed you, Donald. We should stay in touch." He glanced toward the twins busy with the three girls, and swore softly. "Still play poker, sir?" 
Eyes smiled sad glad as the limo left the driveway. The computer had gone into sleep mode waiting patiently for the poet. He sat there quietly thinking. The Friday night poker had tapered off slowly. A fishing trip here and there. They both had known better. Chapter 3 Gee and Geegee got out of the car at almost the same time. They busily 
looked at everything except him. Then Sally slowly climbed out of the back seat. 
He wasn't smiling as they walked toward each other. "I got something for you," he said stiffly. "I saw you at the grave." He'd been at the graveyard when they'd arrived to bury the old man, standing in the far background as if tending another grave. "You don't miss much Sally." Sally grimaced then reached into his pocket. He handed over a soft leather folder. Donald opened it to reveal a simple paring knife, which he immediately rewrapped and put inside his shirt. No further words were said. They hugged and Sally got back in the car. Gee and Geegee hugged him at the same time, then they too got in. Vin saluted and drove the car away. He'd stepped through the folding doors, beside the boy peeling vegetables. The first thing Donald saw was the gun pointed at the floor. He swung up the shot gun to fire. It had kept going up to blast a hole in the ceiling. The paring knife stabbed just below his ear and into his brain. His carotid artery had spurted blood once before the brain died. "Tell Vin to come in here, and go home now!" Vin had burst through the door after hearing the shot. The boy had left for home, shirtless in summer sun, walking on the side of the main road, facing the traffic and shaking. 
The poet sat beside the pool, pen in hand. The notebook lay open on the table before him half full of almost short hand scribbling, unreadable to anyone but him. Sitting in the sunshine trying to decide what to drink and wondering if fiction 
was really his forte, he felt clouds gathering over the horizon. The muses smiled to each other, what a ride this mortal makes. The red Italian wine will taste soooo nice. Chapter 4 Guido and Gordo were not identical twins. They were the remaining Maggliano triplets. Caesarean born at eight months, they'd been lucky to survive, as had their mother. Guiseppi had lived three hard hours. They both had had to be revived at his passing. Each could see through the other's eyes and think his brother's thoughts. High school sex had been messy, funny, and had really pissed off some girls. They thought they'd been laughed at when climaxing. 
Getting good marks had been easy, one would read the answers while the other took the tests, with the sole exception of history. For some reason, Mr. Reid had kept them together all the time. They'd gotten so wrapped up in wars and military tactics, and the family politics of ruling classes that their marks in history had surpassed everything else. At graduation, they'd been introduced to Mr. Reid's twin brother. They had survived the fights of childhood by demonstrating enough ferocity to dissuade any bully from messing with either one of them, further convincing a neighborhood gang that both of them could take on seven with long lasting painful results. Had Sally been closer to their age, no one would have bothered them, but he was ten years older and at that age, ten years is a lifetime. 
 Kevin O'keefe stepped out of the bar and walked around to where he'd left his car. It was gone. He swore loudly as his hands clenched into fists. He looked toward the back of the lot and saw the GG's GTO. His hands relaxed as his eyes crinkled. 'Oh well, I'll eat Italian." He went back into the dining room end of the bar and sat at the table next to the kitchen. "I'll be havin' the special," he said grandly to the chef glaring at him from the swinging doors. "And put it on the Geegees tab, please." The chef disappeared into the kitchen as Kevin briefly thought about pushing his luck with a bottle of wine. Kevin never pushed his luck. He played odds and used an excellent photographic memory. Gee and Geegee sat in the stolen car looking both ways at once on the busy street. "This guy is only a nine to fiver. He's cleaner than mom's kitchen counter," said Geegee. "What the hell are we doin'? There he is." They watched as the skinny little man in a cheap suit walked alone towards them. As he came abreast of the car, Gee stepped out and stuffed him into the back seat. Geegee calmly pulled into the traffic. The burble of protest ceased suddenly as Gee leaned over and whispered, "Shut the f**k up." In a few minutes, they turned into a WalMart parking lot and parked next to a white stretch limo. The transfer to the limo was easy as pie. "Get out and get in that limo now." Maybe the guy was a geek, or a nerd, or whatever; one thing was certain, he knew when to do what he was told. 
Gee and Geegee took the car back to the bar they'd stolen it from and brought theirs back to the meet. "For a geek, he's pretty sensible," said Gee. Meanwhile, Howard met Sally. He'd gotten in the back of the limo to sit opposite a meaner looking man than the two monsters who'd kidnapped him. "Hello Howard Kramer. Would you care for a drink?... No? Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of coffee with anisette? I thought you might. Too sweet? Here try the lemon. You're probably wondering why you're here. I'll make it quick and clear, okay? Good. I got your name from a client. He said you were the best hacker he knew. Relax Howie, I'm not concerned with what you've done..... only what you're going to do. Do we understand each other Howie?...... good. See this username internet address whatever? I want to know who it is. How old he is, where he lives, who his high school sweetheart was ... Can you do that? ... Did I ask if you could do it legally? Well you've got two weeks ... and then you are going to tell me more about this person than he knows himself and ... this is the important part, he will have no idea you have done it. You will be well paid for this information. More coffee? Do you know how to drive a Buick?...... Good... The one beside us is registered in your name........I'll be in touch." Howard Kramer sat behind the wheel of his new Buick and wondered if he was lucky. One thing was certain, he was definitely going to be busy for a while. This looked like it could turn into a permanent position. Three miles behind him Gee checked the screen. "He's home. Looks like he's going for it." "OK," said Sally. "Go play." Chapter 5 Sally sat there, feeding the fish as slowly as possible, stretching his time alone on a Sunday morning. This was what Pops would have called his weak time, but for once the old man would have been wrong. There was only one spot in his overgrown back yard where a shooter could get a clear shot at this old chair, 
and that spot was covered by two sets of cross hairs. Some days the cheese feels good, thought Sally. The fish were making as much noise as the fountain. He glanced over to the spot and caught a flash of light. Fish scattered as he dove 
past them into the pipeline, stood soaking wet in the shed, then ran along the tunnel into the cellar to check the camera screens. He tensed then relaxed as Vin appeared wiping his forehead with his left hand. Sally walked out into the garden to see the GG's looking sheepish. "Well?" "There were three of them, we've got two in the kitchen. The other one's still on the spot. We didn't have time to talk, so you got wet." "Who are they?" "Some kinda ninja gooks, Sally, an' they ain't cooperating." Sally walked into the kitchen and looked at the slant-eyed prisoners. "Who sent you?" Silence, sullen silence. Bang! The taller one sat down on the floor looking at his smoking navel. " Who sent you?" . . . Bang! His left knee exploded. "Who sent you?" . . . Bang! His right knee exploded. Gee spoke softly, "I don't think they speak English, Sally." Sally stood for a minute or two looking into the eyes of the one he hadn't shot. Then two more shots rang out. "You're right, Gee. Put them through the chopper and take your brother fishing. And make sure the boat's got all its gear." 
Some time later, watching the Asian chum line, Geegee sipped on a cold beer and wondered what the hell was going on. "We seem t'be in the way, Geegee, and they want us out of the way. Got that launcher handy? Both of 'em, bro. Are they in range yet?" Facing in both directions, the twins started firing. Two approaching boats exploded into pieces. One out of range turned to speed away. Then it too exploded. Vin wagged his wings and headed back to land. 
They checked to be sure they had no live enemies, then headed on through the gut to moor at the bar. Donald's cell phone vibrated just as he took his shot. It wasn't a miscue, but he'd definitely lost poo . "Hello . . . Hi Sally . . . What? OK. Put them on the bus. Plymouth, yeah no problem." "Gotta go, Glen. See ya later." 
He sat in the van at the terminal watching Sally's wife and kids get off the bus. 
She was walking into the waiting room when he saw them. He grabbed his bag and ran toward the ticket booth waving a handful of bills and shouting. The three of them jumped, then dismissing him as no threat and turned back to their job. 
The first two died instantly and silently. The third managed a gurgle as the blade went up through his throat into his brain. Bills scattered every where as he grabbed Sally's family and ran them to the van. In seconds they were lost in traffic, leaving a crowd of richer people and three dead foreign tourists. "I'm getting too old for this, Angie" . . . She smiled "I see you're still panting!" He smiled just as sadly. "Dee's moved up to Linda's. Barb has supper ready,
and we're all going on a cruise to the Med tomorrow. Vin's bringing your passports. Chapter 6 He sat at the back corner table, looking as calm and placid as only orientals can. His crew of nine, broken up into groups of three, had not reported in. Trained for ten years in all the intricacies of assassination, meeting nightly in the Kung Fu class that had nothing to do with Kung Fu. They had established a reputation for getting things done on time and with delicate efficiency, resulting in this latest contract. They had been hired to create an opening in Boston for a certain import export business to move in. Careful studies conducted over several months had shown this would be almost too easy to be true. The studies were never wrong, but things can go awry, and the studies had been ready for that. These people were creatures of habit with well worn reactions to attacks on their turf. Reactions to the first abortive attempt had been exactly what was expected. Whatever had gone wrong the first time should have been rectified out on the water. They had not reported in. He automatically assumed failure. The final three, his top trio, were on their way to commit the most demoralizing part of his plan, the family. He started to reach for his favorite saki cup and realized he couldn't move. He sat there in blind panic as his bodily functions shut down one by one. His last view was of Kim Chee pulling away from the curb on her shiny new purple Vespa. Vin sat several rows behind her on the flight to Rome. The first step on their way to Tuscany. His eyes teared as he remembered Sally's words. Have a safe trip, enjoy your retirement, call if you need anything, call if you don't. It was the old man talking through his son's mouth. 
Vin's eyes lingered on the long black hair spreading all over the pillow they'd given her. He remembered that first night walking across the Common in the rain. Sally had sent him to keep an eye on her. They'd been pestering her, crowding close and saying things they shouldn't. Five fools drunk on power with no one daring to look at them. He'd stopped, blocking their way, staring into their souls, knowing which would go down first. Vin was not a large man, normally people didn't notice him. They had to. Each one had seen the wolf in those deep black eyes. The usual words of bravado stuck in their throats, each waiting for another to diss this silent man. As one they'd turned and left at his tiny gesture of command. "Hi I'm Vin. Let me walk you through the rain drops". She'd looked into his eyes and two souls had met. Each had hoped but slowly given up on finding the one, the only, the soul mate. Now they knew at once they were complete. He looked around the cabin again. She had no idea he was aboard. 
 Sally had given her a ticket with instructions to tell no one of her trip. 
She had immediately called him and told him where she was going. 
Vin knew Sally had expected this and even now they were both still enjoying it. Something was not quite right, but he couldn't put a finger on what was triggering this feeling. Seated across the aisle was a very large elderly lady, holding her hand bag and hat on her lap, as her head kept nodding forward, and her eyes kept opening and closing. Beside her at the window sat a small oriental in obvious discomfort. Vin sat back and tried to relax, retirement was already beginning to bother him. The Asian held his palms together pressing his index fingertips to white. These American fools all smell of food, fat, and fear, and this cow just farted again to add to the stench of her cheap perfume. It's time to get my weapons ready and end this torture. He rose and brushed by the fat lady's hat. She swore as she reached to save it. He didn't feel the needle empty into his kidney. His body was reacting to her poke at his side. Slipping quickly into the bathroom and locking the door, he sat down and started to assemble the weapon. Plastic pieces slid from his dead fingers. Finished with her assignment and wondering when he might be found, the "old lady" sat back in his seat and tried to sleep. God, how he hated flying and Sally well knew it! The plane touched down in Rome, and as Kim walked toward the glass doors, she saw Vin's reflection smiling into her eyes. Kim turned and dove into his arms. Allie walked out of the motel in his best black suit, checking his nails where the glue had been scraped off and swearing at the ragged results. Sally was waiting in the limo, talking baseball with Vin's replacement. They shook hands as the privacy screen closed. Vin was missed already. "What's next, Sal?" "Workin' on who hired those guys. See if there's any profit in payback." "They sure as hell knew where to find us," said Allie. Sally's lips moved a little and his eyes crinkled. It's like I'm sittin' next to the old man, thought Al. "Yeah, we're gonna have t' reset a trap or two. And I owe Donald big time." "No more'n y'dad did, Sally. God, I'd hate ter be on the wrong side'r that happy go lucky b*****d. The old man loved the kid from the first day". "Remember the liver an' tripper?" They both roared with laughter. Chapter 7 Vin sat back in the solid wooden chair, feet up on the middle rail, balanced on the two back legs, ignoring his long dead mother's pleas and scolding. His wide brim straw hat shielded scratched old sunglasses from bright Tuscan sun. He watched Kim, his favorite occupation, as she weeded her plants with the remnants of a hoe that had to be as old as the house they now owned. The handle had broken off at the top and been ground round again by a previous owner, or maybe his grandfather. Either way Vin was grateful. The increased bend in Kim improved the view enough to test the limits of his delicate balance. He sipped on the dark, almost black wine, marveling at the perfect blend of bittersweet, and leaned forward enough to save the chair from collapse. 
Kim laid the hoe down carefully, straightening to arch her back. The loose peasant blouse slid to compensate for the change and she heard her husband swear. "Did you spill your wine Vin?" she asked without taking her gaze from the valley below. Vin's answer was not forthcoming, so she turned to face him. He was smiling and holding the glass as if to toast her. She climbed the four steps and reached for the jug. Vin intercepted her and filled her glass two thirds full. She took it, tipped token drops to the gods, then drained it in one long draught. He was ready and quickly refilled it. They sat together in long comfortable silence, sharing the wine, the view, and the moment. Thousands of miles west, Howard got up from his desk, folding the laptop under his arm, and went out to his car. He drove carefully down the long driveway of his newly mortgaged house, and was soon on Route 2 headed for the bar. Gee checked the screen in the back office and speeched his twin. Geegee chalked up his cue as he estimated Howie's arrival time. He carefully shot the seven ball into the side pocket, the cue ball bounced off the corner to stop, spinning, directly behind the eight ball. Kevin tossed a twenty onto the table and started to rack for the next game. Geegee tapped the ball in and re-chalked his cue. It felt good to beat Kevin, who at one point thought was the luckiest player he'd ever seen. Gee roared from the backroom as he ruefully admitted Kevin was a lot more than lucky, and a hell of a lot smarter than the usual Irish mick. The twins grunted in solid agreement. The little man had a head for odds that bordered on ESP and took no chances that came close to even money. Gee wondered what Sally was up to with Howie the Hacker. "He's keepin' up with the times, bro. The internet is a hell of a lot more than people talking to each other. Most businesses are hooked up to it and Howie's getting us up to speed with them. No flies on Sally!!" Sally? He listened to Donald bro then picked up the ball and ran with it. "Gotta keep us a close eye on Howie though, he might get ambitious." "Howie's too smart to even tempt fate and his mouth don't run at all, but y'right, it's our a*s if he screws up. S**t! I shudda seen this coming! Just pay him, Geegee. I've seen him run five tables and he was drunk outta his mind or wudda never done it." Kevin just missed putting in the eight ball and studied the clock. Geegee put the money down on the table and took his cue apart. Kevin picked up the bills and put his cue back in the rack. "Looks like I'm buyin,'" he said. Geegee laid his cased cue on the bar and sat down in front of his quickly poured drink. Louie slid the case under the bar. Then and only then did he pour Kevin's. At a nod from Geegee, he poured another and Gee walked out of the back room to sit and sample it. Kevin sat between the two G's feeling comfortably safe. "Hear you tried the special Tuesday Kev." Kevin's eyes crinkled. "Yes Geegee, it was excellent." 
 "Next time get a bottle with it. Just tell Lou what you've ordered and let him pick it." "I almost did that, but being so new in the car rental business . . ." Gee elbowed him playfully, "It's a real nice drive, but wanna these days we might have t' replace it." Kevin quickly understood the unsaid and shrugged, "A car's a car." Howard came in to sit at the bar and Louie slid over a draught. He lifted it to sip under the head and drained most of it, then wiped his mustache with the napkin. Gee nodded and got up to leave. "Gotta go, Kev. Thanks for the lesson." Kevin watched the three of them getting into the "goat" and smiled sadly as it pulled away. The Gees were still fun, but lately were busy most of the time. The game was coming on and he watched them running onto the field. Two seconds later he had his bookie on the line. "Yes, it's on. They won't beat the spread. No I haven't told anybody. OK, but you know the deal." He was making more money not betting with this bookie than betting with any of the others. What was it Sally had actually said? Take a look at the stock market. He picked up the paper and looked at the penny stocks he'd been studying. The patterns were forming again and the odds on several were steadying. It looked like a safer bet than any sport he'd tried. He had the feeling he was about to become very rich. How much did Sally want to play, he wondered. Sally would be more than fair. He always was. At this moment, Sally was listening to Howard's assessment of various businesses with worldwide holdings. It had been pure genius on Donald's part. Get a hacker, not just a computer expert. This was almost a legit business he was into and he was holding some well dealt cards. Vin sipped his second cup of coffee watching Kim as usual as she cleaned up the breakfast dishes. She'd ignored the dishwasher as usual. It took too damned long, made too much noise, and felt like piling work up for later. She hung the wet stainless fry pan on the wall, and dried her hands on the dishtowel. They were both getting used to nothing to do and Vinnie was looking more tired lately. "This is nice Vin. It feels like a long vacation." Vin had been thinking exactly the same thing. "I think I'll call Sally and see what's new." "Good idea. I miss Angie and the kids." "Well start packing." "Packing's done." He swallowed the dregs of his coffee and rinsed the cup. She put it into the cupboard and went into the bedroom to finish dressing. 
 Moments later they were sitting in the morning sun waiting for the taxi that was 
coming out of the village below. Oobadee oobadah life goes on she hummed. Vin laughed and slid his arm around her. Sally put the phone down and gave the Gees the high sign. They both got up and hugged him. Howie wondered, but didn't ask. Sally asked him about London and he went into the convoluted details from memory. Chapter 8 She sat looking out the window at clouds rushing by. Vin sat beside her 
watching her as usual. He felt safe for a change, the new all plastic gun with explosive rounds was under his arm. Kim had hers on somewhere and for all his looking, it was not to be seen. He'd studied the group three rows in front of them, 
and being Vin, had decided they were terrorists getting ready to hijack the plane. 
His reason? Who the hell needs a reason? There were four of them. Three of them arose from their seats and rushed toward the cockpit. Vin shot the one who stayed and managed to get two more before the last one broke into the cockpit. 
He was running up the aisle when a voice shouted inshallah! behind him. 
He turned to see the guy's head exploding from Kim's silenced shot and ran into the cockpit. His last round exploded in the hijacker's mouth. The pilot was on the floor. The copilot was sitting in shock. Vin checked to see they were on auto pilot and started talking fast and clearly. "Go back and tell the passengers the air marshals have everything under control. See if we have a doctor on board for 
the pilot." He was checking the pilot's pulse with one hand and holding his blood soaked hat on the knife wound. The pilot started to come around trying to get up. Vin held him down and made the engineer get up so the pilot's feet where on his seat. He was just about to start tearing clothes when the doctor pushed him out of the way. He sat in the pilot's seat and checked the controls. The copilot came back, slid around the doctor and sat down in his seat. "Where are we?" asked Vin, "Are we past the point of no return?" "About three hours out, sir." "Call them. Tell them what's happened, while I go back to check on the perps. Do not mention anything about marshals being on board, we're undercover." He made his way back to the first one he'd shot and opened the silk jacket. He signed to Kim who was sitting innocently in her seat and she came forward swiftly. "Find out what triggers this, hon." Kim sat down beside the suicide bomber and slit open the entire side of the jacket. She looked for a second and then sliced through the one wire that went into the sleeve. (We are s**t lucky, husband, his hand was jammed against the seat.) "We're OK, Vin. What do we do next?" "Please return to your seat madam, there is nothing you can do for this fellow." "Anyone needing to go to the restrooms may do so now, but please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts as soon as you can. When we land, which should be in about twenty minutes, please remain seated until the authorities can clear this up. Thank you. And thank you for being so cooperative." Vin walked back up to the cockpit and slid into the pilot's seat. "If it's all right with you son, I'd like the con." It was a very smooth landing, and the plane taxied up to the closest berth as he'd requested. "It's all yours, son." Vin nodded to the copilot and went back to get Kim. She was waiting at the door with the carry ons, the only luggage they had. Sitting in the limo with Sally was the best fun she'd had of the whole day. "How was the flight, Vin?" "Great, Sal. They even let me land it." Sally gave Kim a questioning look and she shrugged, "I knew he was in the cockpit, but he didn't tell me that." Chapter 9 Howie studied the results of the London studies and marveled at the gross ineptitude of the company's management. To actually have hired assassins 
to create an opening for them to operate in the Boston area was totally whacked as far as Howard was concerned. And to have done it so openly was . . . hell 
he couldn't even think of a word for it. He checked all of his gambits to make sure he was totally secure and called Sally. "Are you interested in purchasing a home security system at this particular time, sir?" "Let me think about that, try again in a week or so." Sally raised a hand and Gee got up from the couch. "Go get Howie. We'll meet in the darkroom." A few minutes later. Vin, Geegee and Sally were headed for the bar. Sally was quietly talking on the phone with Al listening to a stream of invectives about the state of London's hotels and restaurants, and the fact that there was no place in the entire city that served a halfway decent cup of coffee. Between curses, Sally learned exactly where all the targets lived and ate. There was no chance that any of them were smart enough to set a trap or even think of one. Sally hung up and scratched behind his ear, this was a puzzler. They could all die at once, or one or two could serve as warnings. Or they could all live and he could reduce them to poverty. Or best of all, he could just take over and enjoy the vig. It was not clear which path to take but he was almost ready to decide a plan of action. A lot hinged on what Howie could get for definite detailed information. There was also the little Irishman to consider. Kevin was so totally taken up with the stock market and world trade, it was hard to get him out of the house. Sally knew that Kevin was hooked and raring to get his feet wet. He grabbed the phone again and called Gee. "Bring Kevin" was all he said. Vin looked up "Kim?" Sally thought for a second and said "Kim too. We'll play til you get there." Vin smiled and pulled the limo next to the back door. One thing about Sally, thought Vin, he lets people think for him. God it's good to be back, and Kim knows more about business bureaucracy than any of them. Chapter 10 She sat there listening to Howard listing off all the tendrils of business the target was involved in, staying silent as Kevin made several suggestions. 
These two were way ahead of anyone she'd seen in the business world, and from the sound of things, were totally unaware of their advanced capabilities. Once or twice, Sally had asked for further details which had led them on in their formulations of plans to deal with results of future actions. Vin had stepped up to the plate once and had caused almost total rethinking on both their parts. Gee and Geegee were thinking at each other furiously. A couple of times, she had almost read their thoughts. "What do you think, Kim?" asked Sally, stopping Kevin in mid sentence. They all looked at her as the silence stretched. Vin's mouth opened then closed quickly as Sally's eyebrow twitched. The old man's eyes were staring at him through his son's. Kim stood up and smiled at everyone. As she spoke, they each thought she was talking to him. 
 "It's going to work. It needs some more tweaking. The Taiwan end will be a problem. That new woman over there is going to be taking over the production futures, and she'll need to lop a few heads to do it. The Indian mess is a good part of her problem, but she has an iron hand in Tio Sensi and knows his worth. Lackadiasin will tip the buyout plans. I would wait a couple days on that. But all in all, we should be started on it by Friday, if Kev and Howie stay on it". Sally nodded and she sat down next to her proud eyed husband. Gee squeezed her knee and she smiled, god he was big when he was this close. Sally rose and stepped toward the door. "Kevin, you and Howie need to be together for at least a couple of weeks. I'd suggest Howie's place. It's big enough. Kevin nodded and the pair of them headed out the door with GeeGee. Gee stood alone and Sally threw his arm over his shoulder in a playful hammerlock. He doesn't look that big anymore thought Kim. Then changed her mind as Vin walked by them motioning for her to come along. Riding back in the front seat of the limo, she wondered at her luck. All it had been was a walk on the Common, and none of this may have happened. Vin stopped for the light and looked at her. Eyes widened as they saw the Common, and turned to each other. Chapter 11 Kim Chee sat in the worn wooden chair, arms resting where the designer had planned. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, feet resting on the black wool fleece of a Spring lamb they'd fed for a season a few years back. It was peaceful here in the shade. She reveled in the joy of laze and relaxation. Angie was tying up the tomatoes and eating the red smaller ones wetly. Kim was thinking about Sally and how they had first met at that company breakfast. She'd worked as a quiet hidden mover in the intrigues of mixing businesses of different countries. He had seemed to be an American dealer in exotic auto parts checking out some future manufacturing techniques. She had pointed out some cross hand methods used in office furniture and marine hardware that may have fitted into his business plans. They had gone from there to lunch in a bar above the bay. After a few sips of coffee, his with lemon and anisette, she had asked him exactly what it was he was after. His right eyebrow had risen a fraction as he'd looked deeply into her eyes. "It's about your professional expertise." She suddenly put together the odd list of questions he'd been asking. Oh each was innocent on its own, and maybe three of them could have connected coincidentally, but there had been too many. "Chan's a friend," he'd said quickly. 
Kim had immediately relaxed. Uncle Chan had brought her up in the business. 
 "How can I help you?" Sally had smiled that sad smile that she'd now gotten so used to. "We'll talk on the plane." He'd led her out of the bar and into a taxi, and from there to the airport. "I'll need to pack." "We'll buy what you need." "My passport." "Your passport and work bag are at the gate." he'd said. Uncle Chan had been at the gate with everything she'd needed. "Vaya con dios" had been his last words to her. Their favorite goodbye since childhood. She found out later that her life had been saved by her favorite uncle. A war had started between rival factions and she had been set up as the first target against him. Chan had slipped her out of the country and dealt with the problems his way. His call to Sally had been for help, not an easy thing for Chan to do, but the old man had owed him somewhat so he'd bent and asked. On the plane, Sally explained what he needed. " It seems there are people who have been studying my operations in the Boston area who have a reputation for wet work contracting. "Japanese?" she'd asked. He had started to elaborate, then simply said yes. "And my expertise is definitely needed?" Sally had nodded. Money, in fact. payment of any kind had not been brought up by either one of them. Sally, because he felt he didn't need to, Kim because she knew she belonged. Uncle Chan was after all Uncle Chan. "I haven't been to Boston since I was twelve. I loved it." She'd enjoyed the flight, had had a ball buying clothes and shoes and just outfitting herself for two days. Thursday she'd got herself a job as a bartender in a trendy oriental style restaurant, found a room next to the Common and started fitting into the neighborhood. Vin had been sent over to help in any way he could. The rainy night he'd got there she would never forget. Chapter 12 Allie was once again in his favorite role. The incredibly ugly grouchy old lady, sat on the double decker bus in the seat closest to the door. In back of her was the conductor's cubby, while in front of her was the whole crowded, but seated bunch that was too out of shape or in too much of a hurry to really enjoy the upper deck. 
He wondered if he was getting into too much of a rut with this disguise. He obviously didn't blend in, and one of these days even one of these busy bee 
accountants would wonder why he kept showing up. He farted loudly and 
turned to glare across the aisle. The stench of his lavender toilet water blended with the ensuing odor, creating an atmosphere of such epic proportion that the man he was following turned to stare in his direction. Allie stiffened and raised his nose in outrage. The mark quickly turned to face the front of the bus. He was definitely going into another role tomorrow. He wondered how long Sally wanted him to check out this bunch of losers. The last assignment guarding Kim from Chan's enemies had been a lot more to Allie's taste than this boring London job. He'd been the old man's eyes and ears for so long after growing up with Sally, so when the old man died, he'd just kept going. He laughed to himself thinking of the fun they'd had growing up in the North End. The old man had opened up that little place in the sticks and changed the whole operation around. He'd sure stopped the flow of loose talk being heard, and with one exception, no-one had tried to get him down there. Donald had been a hell of a surprise to that button man. The old man had taken it in stride though. Allie wondered why, since those two were so thick, had the old man sent him on his way. Sally had had him watching the kid for a couple of years and that was full time. They'd kept him safe and watched him less after he'd come back from Hawaii. Canchutini had been the only thing they'd missed completely. But he's growing roses now. Allie watched the mark get off at his usual stop and thought about lunch. He waited three more stops then got off at the cross town switch. Ten minutes later, he was showering at his hotel room. He looked at himself in the mirror and for the umpteenth time, swore he was going to start working out again. The well dressed, smoothly combed gentleman with a magnificent handle bar mustache nibbled daintily on a small celery and salmon sandwich. He was seated in the shade at a small street side cafe table. The office building across the way was owned by the group he was outlining to Sally over the cell phone at his ear. God it felt good to move freely again. Now if he could just find someone in this city of busy that could brew a real cup of coffee. Chapter 13 Angie sat there thinking. It was a pretty good life being married to her high school sweetheart. Sally had earned the right to be called Sally in his sophomore year. He was big. He was Italian. He was handsome. Nobody messed with him. Sports were easy for him, and girls, well they were easy for him too. Angie was smitten in her freshman year. Sally never seemed to look at her, let alone ask her out. For some reason she had been totally ignored. Then he'd asked her to the senior prom. She'd said yes. She later learned he'd never had the nerve to ask her out before. What if she'd said no? Then she'd gone bowling with Jimmy O'brien and he'd been mad enough to finally do something. It amazed her that he could manage the business, and all the people so easily, and still hesitated with her. Sally watched the kids in the pool. They were only a year apart, but Carlo, the youngest, was the boss. Sal (Salvatore VI) had let him take over at three. 
They were doing back flips off the diving board trying to impress him. Sally laughed when he was supposed to, clapped when he was supposed to and tried his damnedest to stop thinking about business. Angie felt his predicament and studiously weeded in her flower patches. If anyone needed distraction more than Sally right now well . . . Kim caught her eye and smiled sympathetically. Between Kim and Vin and the twins, there was practically no privacy in her marriage at all, but what the hell, they were family. Kevin's red hair showed over the hedge and she swore aloud. The Irish green eyes winced, then the left one winked. He nodded to Kim and walked into the house. Kim followed him. "And aren't you looking beautiful as always, lass. Do ye have a sister?" Kim laughed and then thought, why not? "I have a cousin who loves a challenge," she said, "but would you be up to it?" Kevin had just been making small talk in his blarney Irish way. Suddenly a new hand had been dealt. He studied the cards thoughtfully. "Would she be able to talk business?" "Better than I can, it's her occupation, and most likely why she's still available." "How do I get to meet her?" 
"I'll arrange it through Sally but," she paused and looked into his eyes. "Are you sure?" Kevin stood a little taller. "Yes, I'm sure." "Good, now what did you call me in here for?" He shrugged himself back into focus and smiled, "Can you get Vin and meet me and Howie down at he dock?" One eyebrow raised thoughtfully, "Yes but what about Sally?" "We'll talk to Sally when we're sure it'll work. That'll be up to you and Vin." Kim watched him walking away with that almost dancing step and thought about Su. The girl was all business, treading on toes when needed, nudging and coaxing if that's what it took, but always single mindedly driven to excel. Put together with Kevin's totally creative ways, they would either soar or explode. Vin was sharpening the lawn mower blade with a grinder sending sparks in a perfect pattern toward the shed door. Kim closed her eyes and called to him. When she told him what she needed, he laughed aloud and put the grinder down on the bench. "They're three days earlier than I expected, and if I've guessed right, your Uncle Chan's gonna be needed to help with the timing." Kim's eyes lit up as she realized Su could slip into all this like another cog in the wheels." Chapter 14 Su Ling sat back into the reclining first class seat and let her head sink into 
the pillow. The laptop in the tray in front of her beeped, eyes still closed she 
pressed it open, tapped a button and listened to the message. It ended and 
she settled back down. It was getting harder lately to shut out the business 
and drift into freedom. It used to be second nature, sometimes even in 
boring meetings. She needed something to focus on, a hobby maybe, or 
poetry, she'd always liked to write. Her ear beeped and she answered 
sleepily. "Hi Kimmie." Kim laughed, pouring her tea, stretching to put the kettle back on the stove. "Hello Su, are you still analyzing the plans? Or is it all done as usual?" "The London end's into play already Kim, but I've hit a snag or two in 
India, as usual. Nothing too drastic, they've been told twice to redo the cnc's. 
How's your end?" "Kevin's got this end humming as usual, and I've been matchmaking again." "Who is it this time, cousin? The last try should have stopped you forever, my sister's still up there hissy fitting." "It's you Su, it's you, and relax everything's going to be hunky dorey, and hunky is what you like as I recall." Su spluttered with laughter as the memories of younger mishaps tickled her tired brain. "Trust me Su, the third time's lucky, he's also smarter than you, oops, never said that, did I?" "I gotta go, Vin's waving at me. See you soon Suzzie." Su Ling sat there thinking, if this wasn't a way to shut off business nothing was. She wondered who her cousin was working on, besides her. Kim had sworn not to do it again, but she'd done that before too. Oh well, life wasn't exactly delivering up men to choose from, and Kim had never really known one until Vin. She wondered if Vin was really as great as Kim made him out to be. She crossed her legs and lay back into the pillow. He sipped his old fashioned and studied her from across the aisle. Her skin was clear of blemish, the face looked free of make up and the features at first had looked plain, until he'd realized everything was so balanced her beauty was matter of fact enough to be missed. Small enough to be carried easily and shapely enough to make him want to try. Somebody's secretary, he thought. Sent on a trip stateside to impress some fat arse CEO and seal a deal. Clever these Chinese, he wondered what line to use to get her interest. He waved to the attendant pointing at his now empty glass. She nodded and went toward the bar. Chapter 15 Kevin sat engrossed in the charts he'd created. They were all done on clear plastic, and he had four of them stacked neatly over the light table he'd afro engineered out of a glass coffee table and an old lava lamp. To anyone else, the twisting bubble would have been a distraction. He laid the final chart in place and his smile grew even wider. Howie turned from his screen, looked at Kevin, then turned back to the keyboard. This swivel chair was awesome. Obviously the combination of his inside information and Kevin's resulting stock market predictions was successful. Tomorrow they'd know if their manipulations would work as well. Howie had listed all of the necessary raw goods in all five of the operations. How much they needed, which were of greatest necessity, and most important, who owned the companies that supplied them. Kevin was acquiring them through Chen's lists of conglomerate buyouts. Three companies were about to go private. Sally had bought them out a couple of days ago, Kevin had simply taken over their mortgages and liens from the bankers Sally had had Allie talk to. In bankers' clothes and armed with Howie's information on their business practices, Allie had been a rather formidable figure. He later told Sally it had been more fun than Donald's Liver and Tripper, then he'd hedged it with at least for him. Chan had several people waiting with wads of cash and securities. 
If Kevin was right, there was about to be a quick dip in five rather large international holdings stock prices when it was over. Chan and Sally were going to be very busy using Kevin's expertise to spread out as much of the money they were about to be rolling in. Some people in London were about to become millionaires. They would not be happy to feel like penniless paupers. If Sally had his way and Vin knew he would, that would be the least of their worries. 
 Kevin got up off the couch and went into the bedroom, emerging with an armload of clothes and stark naked. "There's plenty of time Kev, she's not due in til five." Howie turned to the computer to point and his voice changed slightly, "Maybe you're right, they must have tailwinds." Kevin looked over his shoulder to read the ETA and ran for the bathroom. He emerged in seven minutes, fully dressed in suit and tie, doing an Art Carney impression to check his cufflinks. His usual flop of red hair was pasted down to his scalp and severely parted high on the left side of his head. He looked at his watch, took a swallow of Irish whiskey from the bottle by the sink, waved to Howie and walked into the door jamb. Howie got up, put on his jacket, straightened his tie, and got to the car before Kevin. He pulled him around to the passenger side and pushed him in. 
 "This won't do," said Kevin. Howie laughed, "I'm taking you to Vin. He's taking the limo and Kim's going along too.sit back and enjoy the ride." He put the cell phone back in his pocket, and drove out of the driveway. Kevin sat opposite Kim in the back of the limo feeling the bump on his eyebrow. She got up and squeezed next to him. "Hold this on it" she said, handing him a linen napkin filled with shaved ice. He did and immediately felt better. Her hands rumpled his hair into it's usual cute red flop, unfastened his shirt, removed the tie and fitted the collar over the jacket the way he always wore it. Vin kept glancing in the rear view mirror, watching his wife's eyes. She turned once and stuck out her tongue. Vin went back to watching the traffic. Chapter 16 Vin pulled into the E arrivals following the line until he got to the right gate. The state cop waved at him to keep going. "There's no limos allowed here Vin. We have to park in the limo area". "You and Kevin get out here and go meet her, call me when you're ready and I'll come to get you." She looked at the now irate cop and rolled her eyes upward. Kevin opened the door and got out. She followed him. "He always does things his way," she said. Kevin smiled, it was nothing new. 

Vin drove around to the limo lot and parked next to the shack. Three drivers in uniforms were playing cards at the table outside. He wordlessly sat down in the empty chair and nodded. The fat one next to the door tilted a phantom cup and Vin nodded again. Fattie got up and Vin said "cream no sugar." He came out with four coffees on a paper tray, and served them like he'd done it once or twice before. Vin leaned back and studied the hand he'd been dealt. The ante was a nickel. He'd already put in a dime and now bet the nickel he'd pulled out. Fattie raised and they all folded, including Vin. "Nice wheels" said the guy on his right, "who do you drive for?" "It's mine," said Vin, "I like the way it handles." "Y'got a good eye, pal. That's a top of the line machine." "Thanks," said Vin. "I raise a dime." Fattie folded, the next guy said, "I think you're bluffing" and raised a dime more. They folded around to Vin. "What's the most I can bet?" "As much as you got." "No it's not," said Fattie. "The most you can raise is a dime." Vinnie looked at the four fours in his hand and threw the cards in. "I knew he was bluffing by the way he held his cards." My kings were good as gold." Vin's phone vibrated and he swallowed the last of his coffee getting up to go. "You quittin?" "Yeah, it's too rich for me." Two of them laughed as he drove away. The cop was still there when he pulled in. Vin got out and went around the car opening the trunk and the back door. The cop came striding over as Kim ,Su and Kevin got in. Vin closed the door, closed the trunk and went to get in. The cop was blocking his way. Vin looked at him. The cop started to say something then thought about it. Vin waited. The cop stepped back. Vin got in the limo and drove away. Kim was in the front seat and Vin wondered if Kevin would screw things up. They were both quiet and from what he could see, nervously so. He looked over at Kim with a question in his eyes. She shrugged. His eyes grew wider and she caught on. "Home," she said, "but let these two off at Howie's to get Kevin's things. Su Ling has to buy clothes and Kevin's got a girl to help her in Filenes." The plans of business were being gone over in detail by Kevin with Su interjecting questions that Kevin loved and answering to her obviously amazed satisfaction. 
 "Take the scenic route Vin, we'll eat at Meza Luna." Vin laughed and closed the privacy window. They both loved the prime rib at that old Cape Cod restaurant. 

"Any problems on arrival?" "One boorish bureaucrat, trying to pick up Su. Kevin took care of it." "Kevin?" "Yes. Kevin. The little Irish redhead with the dancing feet. And he was very diplomatic about it too." She laughed aloud. "The fool probably still thinks it was an accident. Kevin bumped into him, tripped him, helped him up twice, then somehow stuck his finger in his eye straightening the bald guy's hair." The guy's briefcase fell open and Kevin's head hit him in the other eye trying to catch the papers. He's still chasing them. Chapter 17 Donald was busily assembling not one but two more wrought iron Chinese arbors to add to the almost overpowering magnificence of Barbara's garden magic. The sky high sunflowers were everywhere. She usually pulled up most of them, but this year had let them all grow, even to moving a few to areas the birds' planting had missed. He looked up from the pieces spread over the driveway at the car pulling up to the porch door. Sally got out of the driver's door and walked over toward him. The nosy dog woman, on her morning reconnaissance, thought he was an insurance salesman about to deliver a spiel. "Pops sent me." "You're late." "I know." "Let's go fishing." "What about this?" "Oh, Barb's been itching to get at it. Come on, we'll walk up to Linda's and get her truck. But first you'll need to change." Sally followed into the house to be hugged by Barbara and offered coffee. Sally declined and started into small talk. Donald interrupted, "We're going fishing, hon. I'll finish the arbors when we get back." Sure you will, she thought. She looked at Sally's suit, and smiled. "I have to go to the store. Do you need anything besides razor blades?" "No, I'm all set hon, I'll pull the cardboard to my side." "Don't bother, I'll take the van." She started out of the door and Donald started after her. "There's shorts and shirts under the bed on my side, Sal." He pointed to the hallway, then followed Barbara out to the driveway. She'd pressed the button on the porch and the door to the van's side was opening. "I'm going to be busy for a while, hon". "You really are going fishing?" "We'll borrow Lin's truck and do Scituate harbor." "I'm jealous, will he stay for supper?" "I'll call if we catch anything. Don't y'just love cell phones?" Sally walked into the open bedroom. It was easy to see which side was Donald's. The dresser on the other side was full to over flowing with Barbara's make up and beauty accessories. He opened the upper right hand drawer of the six under this side. It was full of shorts. He took out several pair and tried on the largest. There was no way in hell he could fasten the waist button. Sally was a deceptively big man. Donald's voice came through the stairwell. "The navy blue ones are elastic waisted Sally, and there's a red silk shirt in the cedar closet that should fit you." The shorts fit like they were his. The shirt fit every where except his forearms. Donald came in, took a pair of scissors from Barbara's side and cut the cuff slit up four inches on each side. "Wear the black go aheads." He pointed to the flip flops and Sally slid his toes into the straps. All I need is an Aloha shirt and I'll be in formal Hawaiian dining attire, thought Sally. They walked in silence up the hill towards Linda's. Once there, Donald emptied the usual cab junk into the back tool box, stuffing it in to get it reclosed. Back at the house, they loaded the boat onto the truck, located the paddles and life preserver cushions, put in the fishing gear, cooler and the buckets with the built in cutting board tops. "Once we get the bait, beer, and ice, and a couple of subs, we'll be golden," said Donald. "I should invent a store that sells boats ready to fish from." Sally sat beside him and felt better than he had in quite a while. He took a ginger Altoid from the can that was handed to him and popped it into his mouth. It took a little getting used to, but began to taste pretty good. About an hour's hot drive later (they both hated diesel fumes), the truck was parked next to the ramp where the loaded Crawdad sat at water's edge. Sally took off his go aheads and put them in the boat. "Do you want me in the bow?" They were the first words either had spoken since picking up the subs. "I've built boats, designed boats, put in time in the Navy, and used all the words from head to poop deck, but there's a tradition here, Sal. That's the f****n' front, this is the back, and this is the right side and that's the left side." Donald then related the tale of going fishing with his closest friend of many years and how the proper fishing terminology had been born. By the time the tale ended, they were tied to a mooring buoy, had baited hooks on the bottom and cold beer in coolies opened and sipped. Donald's wide brimmed Shark golf hat had a layer of duct tape under the front curled down brim. It prevented crosshatch sun shadows on his glasses. Sally's shirt was turbanned around his head with cuffs dangling over his ears. Life in Donald's terms was getting normal. 
"Did y'ever hear the expression 'two heads 're better than one?'" He watched Sally's eyes crinkle like his dad's had and felt the magic tickle shiver behind his ears. The conversing of half said, unsaid, unfinished, bit by bit, sip by sip remarks holding double sometimes triple entendres began. While they talked, and listened, and sat in long comfortable silences, they caught flounder, paddled to different moorings, and cleaned fish. The wood topped buckets had contained hand towels and ziploc bags. Filet knives were in the tackle box. Both of them knew how to use a knife and strangely enough, held them in identical grips. By the time Donald told Barbara they had eight and three were lemon soles, Sally was his old self again. For Donald, it had been a trip down memory lane. God he missed that old man. Sally saw the wet in his eyes. "I miss him every day, Don." 

 There was change coming in the family business. The twins were to get more authority, which they would certainly delegate, knowing his brothers so well, to people who had earned their trust. Sally would handle the legitimate business, delegating it to interwoven departments. Kevin and Howie, governed by Vin and Kim, could well do the job without him. Sally was moving to a dead end lane in Green Harbor. There were a half dozen houses he would buy, well five - one was owned by a close friend of Donald's who would fit into Sally's plan of a new neighborhood with no problem at all. Chapter 18 Malcolm Greene (he'd added the "e" himself on his first business card) sat up in 
bed, then groaned and lay down again. There didn't seem to be a place on his body that wasn't hurting. His head was a black hole of groggy blue fog pounding rhythmically and painfully. He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue was drier than they were. Groping for the edge of the bed, then pushing his elbow into the mattress with his other hand, he succeeded in rising to a sitting position with his feet on the floor. He stumbled into the bathroom, slid out of his silk pajamas to stand wincing under the pounding massage sequence of his six way shower. 


What had happened? The last thing he could remember was sitting at the table in the club with Charles and Reginald. They'd been celebrating their recent takeover of five different conglomerates in one day. He stepped into the dryer area and picked up the towel as hot air blew from everywhere. He wiped between the folds of fat, stretching and reaching to allow the winds to dry where he couldn't reach. What had possessed him to continue to drink after the first five toasts? Charles must have judged him to be a drunken fool. I mean, we expect it of Reginald, he is married to that witch of a woman who knows everybody, and bores them all. But it was not to be expected of Malcolm Greene, and especially Charles, who as he now started to recall, had been staggering more sideways than forwards when they'd got up to leave. Gwyneth had called a taxi for them, which had been waiting, doors open, when they left the club. 
He dressed painfully and rang for Henry. His tie was straightened on the third try before he realized Henry was not answering. He pulled the chimes vigorously 
and held his head in agony at the noise. Reaching into his waist coat pocket and pulling on the chain he succeeded in finding and opening his watch. 
It was already nine fifteen and Fridays were always their busiest day. Where the hell was that fool? He fumbled for his watch again, now it was nine twenty and . . . he looked at the watch in disbelief. It was Sunday! Five other People of Importance were simultaneously reaching the same shocking conclusion, along with three wives and one mistress. It would not be the worst news they would learn that day. In their absence from their offices, their business assets had been plummeting rapidly, with underlings powerless to stop the sudden plunge without clearance from them, the final decision makers. Friday had been the off the cliff dive of the century. Saturday had almost returned to normal. The new owners were expected to announce their intentions on Monday morning. 
 Kevin and Su sat together in first class. They were both exhausted. The flight attendant brought pillows and blankets, turned down the seats, and covered them carefully. Su lay awake looking at Kevin's hair flopped over his closed eyes, then gently reached to brush it back. Kevin's eyes opened and fell into hers. They kissed softly. He felt her lips opening and loosening and lost himself in a cloud of wonder that turned into a dream. Su felt his mouth slacken and carefully lay her head beside his. They were both asleep with identical dreams in seconds. 
Kim watched from her seat across the aisle, ' look out Wall Street', she thought, 'The catbird's seat is occupied'. Chapter 19 Vin thought about the last few days and wondered if Sally had made a mistake. He himself would have off 'd all five of them, and Kim could have done it as easily as she'd drugged them. This way they might think of revenge, after getting used to being poor forever. Poor! He grimaced, well they were poorer than their families had been since slave trading ended. Nothing spends less than old money, and these b******s were worse than Beacon Hill ever thought of being with "old money." Kev and Su had worked their tails off moving all that business in just two day's, all over the world, with only coffee and ginger tea to sustain them. Kim's matchmaking expertise was right on. They were made for each other, and man was Kevin high. He sat back into his seat and wondered at his own luck. The old man had ordered a limousine with a driver to take him to Rhode Island. If they hadn't run into trouble there, he'd probably still be a limo hack. After he'd taken out the fat guy and the little blade man had run, the old man had asked him to get in the back with him. He'd looked into his eyes for the longest time, then asked if he had any family. Vin had told him he'd been an orphan, had no ties to anyone, nor had he wanted any. The old man's eyes had crinkled at that, and he'd asked Vin if he wanted to work for him. At the time, Vin hadn't known the extent of the operation, but suspected crime of some sort was involved, and had hesitated. Sal had then added that there may be some problems at first, but that he felt Vin would be more than able to handle it. He'd almost asked what it paid, but instead had accepted the job. Those black eyes had crinkled again, then he'd said, 'Okay, Vin, get in front and drive." But first they had shaken hands. 
He reached over and cuddled Kim under his arm. She curled up and kissed him with more passion than he'd expected. He backed off and looked at her. She smiled mischievously and tugged at the privacy curtain. They were then jointly admitted to the mile high club. Vin wondered again at his luck. Chapter 20 Sally checked the message from Howie on his computer again. As he did, he wondered where the business would have been without this scrawny genius. He and Kevin were indispensable to his entire operation. Howie for his hacking capabilities and impregnable security programs. Kevin for his incredible ability to narrow the odds on anything they attempted. When Donald had suggested he study the stock market, everything had come together like clockwork. To think that all he was doing was writing poetry, and gardening, and fishing, and laying around his pool, and playing golf when he could be here getting rich. Sally had never really understood that way of life. He was rapidly coming around to that kind of thinking though. Here he was with billions and Donald was somehow richer. Pops had told him to listen to him, maybe he should have listened to what wasn't said a little more. He turned back to the message. 

The feds were onto them, maybe. He tapped the keys with his left index finger and his middle right, swearing as he kept hitting the next key first. "What do you mean maybe? Come down here." Howie swallowed the last of his coffee and put the travel cup into the slot. "I'll be there in a minute or two, Sally." The laptop took his words and typed them out as he pulled onto the main highway. He wondered what Sally would do when he had the whole story. He'd hacked into some political files following the target's plans to enter into Chinese businesses in the Philippines, and come across some terrorist activities that endangered some small naval bases. Howie being Howie, had altered a couple of things in one of their transmissions that had caused them to be discovered and arrested in their attempted attack. Things would have been fine from there except for Third Class Petty Officer Patrick O'Reilly. Patrick was not your usual computer technician. His expertise on code and computer technology had landed him in a position of security of internet activity in an office deep within the Rocky Mountains. He had discovered Howie's interference and sent him a terse message to that effect. Basically he had said, "Well done, thanks for the help, and who in hell are you and what are you doing in this top secret server?" Howie had told him. Patrick had answered with the terse message, "Don't get caught." Howie had then asked him his name and Patrick had told him. They had had several conversations since then and Patrick was due to get out in two weeks. This was why he'd told Sally maybe. He rang the front doorbell, looking across the lane at the old guy in white overalls climbing up the ladder to get in a well painted lobster boat. Sally opened the door himself and practically dragged Howie into the front room. Before he could ask, Howie started talking, rapidly at first and then slowing down to get the whole story in every detail of what had happened and what he had done. Sally listened calmly to every word, and as far as Howard could see, was taking it very well. He was right, but Sally was not yet ready to let him know that. When he was through, Sally sat there letting him stew. What the hell, he might as well get some enjoyment out of this. "I want to meet Patrick O'f*****g Reilly as soon as he gets out. You bring him here. Oh and by the way, Howie, you're doing a hell of a job and I'm glad to have you around. Come on, there's a guy I want you to meet." They walked out of the house and across the road toward the boat Howie had seen the old guy climbing into. "Hey Mac" said Sally from the top of the ladder, " Permission to come aboard" Mac looked up from the table edge he was sanding and laughed. "There's Buds in the cooler Sal, Who's this?" "This is the guy who can fix your problem with your license, Meet Howie my own personal miracle worker" Mac and Howie shook hands as Mac passed them a Bud each. "You must be the hacker, Sal said he'd be bringing you. The statehouse has screwed up my records and is threatening to put me out of business. Sal thinks you can fix it." Howie laughed. "If I can't I know a guy who can, why don't we step into your office and go over the records?" They all three climbed out of the boat, balancing a beer in one hand and walked into the back room O'Reilly sat at the bar in his newly purchased civvies. It was an Irish bar serving mostly Irish construction workers, and Patrick in his fancy suit did not quite fit into the scene. He stood out like a sore thumb. "What'll y' have sor?" asked the bartender, expecting some weird mixed drink. "Jameson's and a Guiness please" "Yessir" The bartender drew a pint that slid to stop in front of OReilly and walked over to pour a shot of Jameson. "I thought y' looked Irish" he said,setting down the glass. "F**k you" said Pat looking him in the eye. It took a moment to sink in and they both enjoyed a laugh together. He put his glass down and the bartender filled it up at once. "Tis on the house lad. Nod if y' need more" A short well dressed gentleman stepped in from the street, glanced around the bar then walked over to sit next to Pat. "Hello Mr OReilly. I see civilian life is agreeing with you so far." "You look shorter than I expected" said Patrick, " but in your line of work I guess it doesn't matter." he reached out and shook Howie's hand. "Was there a special reason for this meeting or are we just getting acquainted" "Well yes and no" answered Howie. " Sally wants to met you but that can wait. He signaled to the bartender, "I'd like a Bud please, in a bottle, with a glass." They sat at the bar talking, checking each other out, reinforcing what they already knew of each other. They were both pleased with their findings, and left the bar to walk across the big dig to the North End. Pat knew how well this little man shadowed through the net. They had chased each other for fun through some top secret files, and were both more aware of what was going on in the countries they'd skipped through than the people using the files. Pat wanted Howie to work with him doing Foggy Bottom stuff and Howie wanted Pat to team up with him and Kevin to make them all richer and enjoying the good life. "Talk with Sally Pat. I know we can work something out" Pat stretched and twisted trying the suit jacket threads at the back of his upper arms. "His tailor can fix that too" Pat laughed Howie could almost read his mind. He wondered what he would do if he kissed him. "OK Howie after we finish this dinner and wine we'll go see what he has to offer. I can see I'll never get you away from him". Pat walked out to the boathouse with Howie, being careful to use the inlaid steppingstones surrounded by violets in every color imaginable. The pathway was bordered by railroad ties faced with different colors and shades of what looked like sheets of corian. " It is" said Howie," he got it from Donald it's at least 16 inches deep.It's to stop the violets from taking over everything. It's ok to step on them Pat, nothing kills them" They reached the door as Sally stepped out, looming over both of them. Pat grasped the extended hand, and his own disappeared as they greeted each other. " Glad to finally meet you Patrick. According to Howie you 're as talented as he is in hackery, or whatever you techs call it. If you want to work with us the job's open. I trust Howie's judgment totally". "As do I sir, you have a new tech." Sally smiled and led them toward the house. He'd learned from his father not to mention money, and to pay well for everything done. Su Ling and Kevin kept the salaries low enough to pay fair taxes, and the benefits and bonuses high enough to keep everyone happy. Legit business was getting to be old hat, and so much simpler than the old vig and collections. The Old Days were gone forever, well most of the time anyway. They were in the den taking turns trying to beat Sally at eight ball when Kevin walked in. " Partners? "asked Sally. "That'll be the day" said Howie. "Kevin just plays with us." Kevin laughed, "Isn't that what he's supposed to do?" asked Pat curiously. "He plays with us Pat. The only way we win is if he let's us." Sally was quietly watching Pat, "I'll try one game for twenty bucks" said Pat, chalking up his cue. "OK" said Kevin, "Lag for break" Pat smiled, set the cue ball down about a foot from the bank, and tapped it with his cue. The ball bounced from the far bank and began slowing down at mid table. It stopped about a half inch from the bank's felt lip. Kevin went through exactly the same motions and the ball stopped about a half inch from the bank. Kevin was taking a much needed break from Wall Street's winsome madness. Even with a knack for odds bordering on genius, rules are made to be broken and when Lady Luck started swishing her skirts Kevin stepped aside to learn the new dance step. Gee was just plain bored stiff. He and Geegee were busily checking up on the methods and results of the guys they'd promoted. A couple were out of their league when it came to managing people, and a couple of good bars were not contributing as much as they had been. Gee was about as subtle as an axe in full swing so they'd let Geege put the guys where they couldn't screw up. Gee could have done it but the way Geege had done it the guys thought they'd been promoted. Gee chalked his cue, looking at the table and where his twin was driving, swearing to himself as Geege drove in his usual fashion and other drivers got out of his way. He leaned over the table to take his shot as Geegee pulled in to park. The cue ball jumped the length of the table as Gee slumped limply to the floor. The last thing he'd seen was Tony's face in the rear view mirror as he shot Geegee in the back of the head. Kevin dropped his cue and ran around the table. He felt for a pulse, swore and started CPR. After trying the blow blow blow, push push push, with no results he clasped his hands together and slammed them into Gee's heart as hard as he'd ever hit anybody. Then he put his ear down to hear a heart beat. He kept blowing air into the massive chest until it suddenly gasped and started breathing for itself. Kevin was choking in the grip of one large hand as Gee began to sit up. Gee let go, and Kevin rubbed his throat looking at Gee's expression. " You were dead Gee" he said. "I didn't think you were going to make it". Gee never even heard him. For the first time in his life he was alone. All he could see, and hear, and feel, or sense at all was his own self. Kevin's anxious words finally got through to him. "I'm fine Kev, but Geegee is dead" Kevin's mind suddenly registered. Geegee had died and Gee would have died too if he hadn't saved him. "How?" "Somebody shot him" "Who? Why?" Gee was standing at the bar now drinking cold water. The lost look in his eyes was turning into cold emptiness. "I'm going in town to find out." "Wait Gee I'll get Vinnie to drive us in" Gee was walking toward the back room. "Fine, call him, and you go see Howie. Tell him to lay low. Call Sally tell him what's happened. Tell him I'm going in town to see Tony, no better yet tell him to call Geegee to tell him I'm coming in to help. Have him leave a message on Geege's phone. Or if someone else tells him tell him to be shocked and mention I'm coming in and I don't know about it". Vin drove up the expressway, not saying a word. Gee sat silently beside him ,then he grunted. "what's your take on it Vin?" "Who shot him?" "Tony" Vin changed lanes and sped up to pass a truck and pull in front of it. "Duggan" said Vin. "He's making a move. Probably promised Tony the world and a pile of dough to get Geegee outta the picture. He's the only one with the balls and power to do it". Gee thought about it "It's either him or the chinks, or maybe both of them. We'll see what Tony has to say" Vin smiled sadly, "Tony's got to be dead by now Gee. I wonder what Sally thinks" Sally was kissing Angie good bye through the driver's window of the Buick station wagon. The kids were in back thumbing away at their video games, 'The girls are already on the Vineyard setting up the suites hon. Howie and Kev will be there too and the OReilly said everything's going to be fine. Angie thought about Kim and Su, and wondered how the expectant pair were doing. The ferry ride in the early morning could not have been the best of trips. Then again the pair of them were into all that chinese herb stuff, and probably loaded up on ginger tea prior to the ride. Sally watched the car out of sight then called Donald. "Won't be able to go fishing for a while, something's come up". Donald listened as Sally told him all the details so far. He'd finished his coffee by the time Sally finished by guessing who was in back of this bloody affair. "Makes sense Sally. He's the only one senile enough to try it. He hired that button man who tried to get the old man. The old man talked to him afterward. They talked in Italian so I wouldn't understand them. Your old man put the fear of god into him, and sipped lemon laced coffee grounds as he did it. Said he wasn't going to tell a soul, but if he caught a cold after this Duggan would wish he'd killed him." Sally pictured the old man whispering in Italian with that crinkly smile on his face while Duggan sweated and Donald watched blankly. "It must have festered for years in that thick Irish skull." "I didn't know you spoke Italian " Donald laughed. "I don't. After he left we sipped some more grounds and he asked me what I thought they'd spoken about. So I told him almost word for word. I'd suspected he would take some action after the killer failed, and this stranger seemed odd. What with his Irish name, and speaking Italian, and looking at me like I was a dumb a*s servant. Just watching his rat features as the old man whispered, was enough to tell me everything. Donald smiled, and Sally could hear it in his voice. "He asked me where I learned to speak Italian too. Then he said something I'll always remember. You may not speak Italian Donald but you think Italian better than most Italians do." Donald hung up the phone and slid it into his jeans front pocket. Geegee was dead. Gee must be going out of his mind with half his senses dead. He slid the phone out of his pocket and called Gee. Gee felt the phone vibrating as Vin took the exit. He considered not answering, then pulled it out to see who was calling. No thought of ignoring it even entered his head. Vin watched as he held the phone to his ear. " But.......but......but........Vinnie turn the car around we're going to South Station" Vin took his next left went down three blocks and took a right. "Where the hell are you going?" "South Station" Three minutes later they were parked in the post office parking lot and Vin was getting out of the car. "Sit still" he went up to the back door and rang the bell. A guy in postal clothes answered the bell and listened to Vin for a minute. He then shut the door and Vin came back to get in the car. He moved the car to the slot closest to the exit and shut it down. "What was that all about?" "I told him we were postal inspectors and would be here for a while and not to tell anybody. Why are we here?" "Oh we're meeting Donald" Vin thought about that as they sat there waiting. So it had been Donald on the phone, he'd thought it had been Sally. Gee would have kept going if it had been Sally. What the hell was Donald coming for? Vin sat there mulling the whole thing through and wishing Kim was here to tell him what was going on. "I'll go get him Gee, if any one comes over here glare at them." He got out and walked across the street into the station. He checked the schedule and ordered three coffees, two black one with cream. He took a tray and paid for them. "You won't need the tray Vin, but thanks for the coffee" Donald peeled back the sip cover and raised it gingerly to his lips. Vin led him out to the car carrying the two cups, letting Donald get the door. The three of them sat in the car, Donald sprawled on the back seat,and waited for the coffee to cool. "What's the plan Donald?" "Plan? Oh we're going over to the Hill to find Duggan" Vin's eyebrows went up a fraction. Gee sat there frowning What the hell would Geege be saying now? he thought. It was only half a world out there and all he could think of to do was destroy Tony and whoever had hired him. But what about later? and how sure was he with no one watching his back and no back to watch out for. Gee swore and Donald cuffed him gently on the back of his head. "Relax big guy every thing's gonna work out and you have a funeral to take care of. Finish your coffee and let's go visit Mr Duggan. And Gee, I want you to teach me how to say Good day Mr Duggan He asked me to take good care of you. in perfect Italian. No accent no mispronunciation, just like your Daddy taught you. By the time they reached the Hill Donald had it down pat. Vin was at his wit's end They were going right in to Duggan's office and putting themselves at his mercy. They were stopped at the door and frisked then led into Duggan's office. The old b*****d sat there his eyes gleaming greedily at the sight of Gee, and Vinnie too, standing unarmed before him. Vin wondered how long it would take him to signal to the body guard to take them out. He motioned for the door to be closed and spoke for the first time. "How may I be of assistance in your time of grief" he asked looking at Gee. Donald spoke up in a voice so low it was a strain to hear him. He was moving his hands as if holding and stroking a cat. The Irish body guard's eyes widened. He licked his lips. Donald stroked his nose, then pulled at his opposite ear lobe. The guard's eye lowered in a slow wink. "Do you not remember me sir? I know it's been a long time since 1953 but I was there. Duggan looked at him and thought about what might have happened in 1953. Then it registered and his face went white. Donald slid across the desk and whispered in perfect Italian in the old b*****d's ear. Vin watched Duggan die without anyone touching him. Donald was smiling, Vin shivered. He looking at the body guard just standing there. 'How are we going to get out of here alive?' he thought. Donald's eyes laughed at him as he led them to the door. He closed it after them and asked for their guns back. Then they walked out, got in the car, and drove away. "I wanted to kill him" said Gee. "You just helped your father kill him Gee I just whispered the words for him, but if he hadn't died I had the same paring knife ready for him. Now let's go find GeeGee and take care of him. Call Sally Vin, tell him it's all taken care of." Vin sat there driving ,trying to concentrate in the gridlock traffic. ' He used us as bait to get in there with Duggan, and somehow knew the guard would leave him alone. Where the hell did Donald learn all this s**t? and what caused Duggan to die of fright?. I can't wait to get home and talk to Kim. They dropped Donald off at South Station and headed into town to take care of Geegee. Donald pulled into his garage. Got out. Picked up the mail from the box under the cedar tree, and walked into the house. "Did you remember to pick up butter? No? You'd forget your head if it wasn't fastened to your neck!" "Yes dear" Wrists twisted in unfamiliarity, that slowly changed as childhood boating skills came rushing back. Bob was halfway to the outer moorings, sliding between the lines of slowly bouncing boats. His neck hurt from constant turns, to see where he was going to bump next, or to avoid it , as he was fast learning to do. The light pram skipped across the water, slipping and sliding like a drunken water walker. He slid the oars between his feet, and grabbed hold of the mooring line. In moments the painter was tied, with the same knot he'd used as a child, in this same harbor, and onto the same mooring line. Oddly enough it was this same knot that he'd used for years to tie reins to hitch rails. He sat back and relaxed. There was no rush to the days here. No staff to be responsible for or to. All that was behind him, again. He tipped his old greek fisherman's cap to keep most of the late sun out of his eyes, and reached for a beer. The dog moved his head a fraction, almost an unnoticeable twitch. He poured half the bottle into the bailing bucket, tilted the rest in a salute, and poured it down his throat. The dog's square head disappeared into the bucket to re appear covered in suds and licking them off. He looked from the now empty bucket to the cooler several times, hardly moving his head, then sank back onto the after thwart seat deck. Occasionally his eye would open to watch his master ready his fishing gear. An observer would reckon these two were past masters of the boating life. This was the first boat the dog had ever been on. He'd ridden his first plane to get here, stuck in a cold cargo hold with water to drink. Bob was getting used to old habits. soon the bait was sinking to the harbor bottom. He let it rest there for several seconds then slowly drew it up about six inches, a count of two then down again, a count of three, then up again. The first bite was so soft he almost missed it. The second set the hook and up came a fat flounder, to flop around in the covered bucket, as he dropped the same baited hook over the side. He fileted the flounders, still sitting in the boat. The top of the bucket had a plywood inlay screwed to the cover from below. The cheekless and eyeless bone racks he tossed over the side, breaking them in half so the gulls could swallow them. The cheeks were saved for breakfast. The filets were rinsed over the side then slipped into snap shut plastic envelopes, four at a time. Long ago he'd seen this harbor at it's deadest low tide. The day before the storm that wrecked the Coast Guard Station. He'd drawn a chart of the three main mud streams, with the mooring blocks and buoys, to find them later. Flounder like the softer moving mud to winter and feed in. The buoys on these streams were the mooring lines he fished from. When the bucket was full of plastic bags, he put away his gear and opened the last two bottles of beer. He and the dog took their time drinking them down. He dumped the extra ice water saving the last of the plastic bottles filled with frozen water, and filled the cooler with fish. The now empty bucket was soon filled with his fishing gear. He rowed over to the ramp, tied up the pram and walked up to get his truck. The dog stayed with the boat. The usual crowd of watchers kept their respectful distance as the dog looked at them. In moments he had the boat on the truck and was driving away. The dog sat there with his head out of the passenger window, jowls and ears flapping in the breeze. At the convenience store they stopped for gas, picked up another six pack, and two scratch tickets. He paid for the gas, beer, and tickets. pocketed his change and walked out the door. "Damn dog talks more'n he does " grumbled the owner. "Hell George the damn dog talks more'n the pair of you two arseholes put together" George looked over at his father sweeping the floor and grunted. The truck pulled into a driveway about 80 yards down the street and he and the dog got out. The dog ran up to the front door and pulled on the bell chain. A wrinkled old lady looking not a day over eighty opened the door with a pie in one hand and a bone under her arm. "It's peach apple" ,she said, looking up into his grey eyes. "And those ham bones got lots of meat in em yet" He handed over a packet of four fish and nodded at the dog. They left with the pie in his hand and the bone in the dog's mouth. He'd started out selling fish to her while in high school. They'd started again with a barter system. The neighbor lady liked pie. He liked goat's milk. He drove down the long drive way to the cottage on the edge of the back river. He could have rowed from the dock at his back door and had actually done so once in his teens. The midges had convinced him never to attempt it again. He glanced at the lobster buoy sticking up through the railing and smiled. It was upside down. Mac had stopped by, more than likely on his way to pick up bait. He walked over to the end of the dock and pulled up the old keeper cage, expecting to find it full of crabs. It was, but the other end had a three pound lobster in it. Mac must have had a great day yesterday. He loaded the wheeler box with the crabs, then lowered the keeper cage back into the hole. The dog stood watching as he wheeled his treasure up to the back door. Inside he brought down the brass and copper boiling pot added cold water up to the dent mark and set it on the low burner stove top. It reached a boil as he showered and shaved. Dressed in black silk boxer shorts and a plastic apron, he put in the lobster, adding a cup of white vinegar and a cup of salt. By the time his tea had finished steeping, the lobster was done. He brought it out onto the plate, and added the remaining white vinegar from the bottle to the pot. The crabs were lowered in in a basket and the cover was added with a tilt to allow some steam to escape. He hung the apron on its hook and sat down to eat the lobster. The dog sat patiently through this whole operation watching every move intently. Half a claw was held at his nose. His eyes went from the claw to the melted butter, then back to the claw. One eyebrow went up as a smile began to form. He dipped the lobster and held it toward the dog. It disappeared in one lightning snap and the dog sat there licking his nose. The rest of the meal was a game of one for me two for me until the shell was cleaned thoroughly. The crabs took two hours of Law and Order and three beers before they too were empty shells. He took the plastic bowl, covered it, and put it in the refrigerator. Ten minutes later they were both sound asleep on the king size bed. His last thought was of horses as the mattress formed around them. He'd been making a pretty good living whisper breaking horses, and teaching his skills to others who horses saw and bonded too. There really wasn't much to it except patience and knowing what the horse was thinking. Almost all of them were green broke, and easily convinced that doing as bidden was a rewarding experience. Of course there were the broncs. The absolutely uncontrollable that had to be put down, or sent to rodeos. But for the most part it was a job that paid well and was good for his ego. At least it had been until that Harley had purred into the yard. She'd dismounted, leaving the tall black haired rider to park next to the gate. She had walked over to the corral fence, ducked under, and walked up to the ,snorting ,head nodding black stallion as if he was tame. He'd spent all of three weeks trying to get into that horse's head, and was totally convinced the horse was a killer. She'd stood there, stroking his neck, pulling his ear, wiping his nostrils clean with a rag from her back pocket, and talking to him softly in a language he'd never heard before. Then she led him to the fence. She walked to the fence. He followed. She climbed on the fence. He walked under, and she slid onto his back. Then she took that damned horse through paces as if he'd been trained in dressage for years. No saddle, no reins, nothing but her and the horse. " Nice horse you've got there " the Harley rider said softly. "How long have you been training him?" " He's been here a month. No one can get near him. When he's out we put in feed and water. Who in Hell is that girl?" "Linda? She's with me, we're taking a ride through the hills, and she saw the horse. She knows more about horses than they do" "Where are you from?' "Halifax Massachusetts" "No S**t! I'm from Scituate" She got down from the horse slipped under the fence and walked up to him smiling. "He's a beauty, You shouldn't have any trouble with him now. Just don't go behind him. His peripheral vision's off somehow." They'd ridden away without a backward glance. He'd left for California the following day. The dog had found him in San Francisco, sleeping behind a dumpster. He'd woken to a warm comfortable feeling in the small of his back, and sat up to see those eyes looking into his expectantly. From there they'd gone to Sally Anne's, by way of a day sweeping floors and washing windows. He'd bought respectable clothes that fit him as if tailored. Broke again, he'd studied the want ads from a discarded paper, and applied for a position in an advertising firm. Cleaned up and dressed he was worthy of an interview, and had lied with ease about his formal education, and years of working a desk for a pittance, while others had stolen all his ideas. He'd turned down the job, saying he didn't need to be disappointed again, and been stopped before leaving, to be sent to the owner for another interview. The dog had been with him through both interviews, sitting at his feet and studying his surroundings as if it was normal for him to be there. He'd been hired on a contingency basis, ostensibly to study the day to day operations and to make suggestions for improvement to the various managers. It never failed to amaze him that no one objected to the dog. Within six months he had doubled the net worth of the company. He was well liked by everybody, and bored out of his mind. But it beat hell out of picking dumpsters, and since the dog only liked an occasional beer, they were both living high off the hog. It ended abruptly the day he'd told the owner why he didn't want the city paper to feature him as the most successful advertising executive of the year. He'd left with a small severance and had kept his stock in the company until it started to lose money. The flight back to Boston had not been comfortable knowing the dog was caged below. The next time they flew Bud would be harnessed as a seeing eye dog, and he would be wearing dark glasses with a folding cane. George sat behind the register wishing he was back on Oahu, the only place he'd been besides boot camp at Bainbridge Maryland, and a few weeks in NAS Norman Oklahoma. Just long enough to have been in a tornado and to reach the rate of airman. Oahu had been heaven Dress for the beach had been baggy shorts, go-aheads and a colorful Aloha shirt. Dress to get into any nightclub, ditto. He'd been clean cut and dashing, and stiff competition for the regular beach boys. Back then his abs and pecks attracted vacationing schoolteachers like scrap to a gull. He sat back on the stool and looked down at the beer belly overhanging his too tight trousers. Mrs Marble walked up to the counter,carrying a box of Mountain Chablis, which she set down on the counter. She reached into her voluminous hand bag and drew out a roll of ones. She put seven of them down on the counter. "eight" said George. "That is eight". George counted out the seven bills and waited. Exasperated she stuffed her arm back into the bag and withdrew another bill from the roll. Throwing it down on the counter she picked up her bag and wine and turned to leave. "Your change" said George holding nine ones and two cents in his hand. "Keep it" she snapped. not even turning her head George put the nine ones back into the till and dropped the pennies into the tray beside it. He hadn't counted the bills as she put them down. She'd done it so many times before he didn't have to. The tenspot was gravy as far as George was concerned. She might miss it later. He hoped she did. He sat back and watched the surf pound on the sandy beach, listening to a very old ukelele. It was Wednesday and close enough to noon to turn the sign around. His dad had run the store on Liverpool rules since he'd opened it. Wednesday afternoon, Sunday. Boxing Day, and especially Guy Fawkes Day were for resting. He looked down towards the boat ramp, saw the pick up pulling in, grabbed a six pack ,and gear, and walked hurriedly toward the pier. The dog saw him, and moved to the middle of the boat. It was going to be crowded but who the hell cared. George knew what brand the dog drank. He sat in the bow, his bucket in front of him. The dog sat facing him head resting on the thwart seat, front paws sticking under the center of it. Damned dog looked like the boat was built for him. They'd finished the first six pack, two apiece, with the dog looking none the less for wear. George looked at his childhood friend and wondered how he'd managed to stay so young. It sure as hell wasn't from talking too much. He pulled in his tenth flounder and stuffed it into the bucket. "That's ten" drew a nod. " Don't s' pose you're countin' though" raised one eyebrow. Ah What the hell go for it all. "caught any bugs lately? " Big smile, as he started to filet his fish. Years ago they'd always counted. George had always lost. Not by many but he'd never caught more fish. He had won once though and the story had been told to anyone within earshot after enough beer had loosened his tongue. Key word being enough. He'd been six fish behind when he felt the very odd nibble on his line. " How much does a lobster count?" he'd asked. Then set the hook and pulled in a two and a half pounder. "Ten" had been the answer. He'd quickly dropped the bait down again. "It's easy to do. Just put it on the bottom like this and bouncy bouncy bouncy" On the third bouncy he'd felt the same weird bite and had hauled in the twin to the first. "You win George, I give up" Six whole words in a row. Damned right he'd won. That had been a long time ago. He'd never had a lobster bite since. They'd fished together for years since then. George had never owned a boat. Never needed one. The wind started picking up and they both looked out toward the open sea, counting whitecaps to read the windspeed. George reeled in and grabbed an oar They paddled down the channel to the pier and George got out. "I'll see you at Annie's" He left all the gear in the boat and walked up the ramp onto the pier. As he reached the top he looked back to see the boat scooting over to the ramp with the dog's ears flopping in the breeze. He'd been in Annie's long enough for a coffee and, when the dog came through the door followed by his master. Annie refilled his coffee and poured another with cream already added. "Danish Bob?" Bob nodded and sat down slowly. He removed his cap and shook it at the floor. The dog backed up to avoid the splash then moved back in for his share of the cheese danish pastry. " What took you so long"asked George "I put the fish under the shedroof with the beer, and gave Annie's mom a couple of your fish to save you from cleaning them. "well now, when you get generous like that you get right talkative doncha?" The dog smiled at George and he almost fell off the stool. Bob sat there in the morning sun, with the dog at his feet, sipping gingerly at his first cup of coffee. The night's chill was still in the shadows, occasionally breezing out to raise goose bumps where the sun wasn't shining. The coffee was too hot to drink, and he was too lazy to get up and get an ice cube. So he wet his lips as much as he could, and sipped as much coffee as possible before wetting his lips again. By the time the coffee was gone it was cool enough to drink. He got up and poured a second with a little more cold cream. The life of the village poacher was beginning to get too comfortable. His money was not running out by any means. In fact it was making money in dividend reinvestment, enough for him to survive through old age at the rate it was increasing. He looked out at the harbor and wondered what was wrong. The dog rolled over, got up and stretched, then shook all over. They looked at each other in silence for a few long seconds, then the dog looked away toward the lighthouse. He got up and went inside to cook. Soon he had a counter full of finely diced potatoes, onions, ham, and green peppers. The bacon was done enough, so he took it out onto paper towels, and added all the chopped ingredients into the pan. He then cracked and mixed six eggs, with warm water, HP sauce, chopped cheeses. and chives. By the time he'd put on the Boston baked beans and toasted the bread the fried hash was ready for a minute in the microwave. He had the eggs scrambled and fluffy, the beans hot enough to eat, and the hash out and onto two plates. The dog was as ready as he was. Ten minutes later Bud was off into the bushes. leaving him to clean up everything except two very clean plates. Another five minutes and the dog was back to empty his bowl of water. The pans were all scrubbed and put away, as were the dishes and cutlery. Bob sat outside sipping his third coffee. It was at perfect drinking temperature. Now if he could figure out where next to go in his life. He looked down to the store as a Mercedes sportster pulled up to the pumps. Out stepped a long legged longhaired red head. The dog got up and started walking toward the store. Bob cleaned up and shaved then dressed in dungarees and a tie dye dress shirt, he slid into the worn old go aheads, and stepped out on the deck He stretched everything three times and then followed the now waiting dog into the high grass of the marsh. It was more open than it looked from the road with trails that were well used by the local wildlife. Budweiser was sitting on a big round boulder. Sunning himself and looking down at a half nude redhead who was doing the same thing in the open glade below him. Her silk black blouse hung over an old sign post beside her. She caught sight of him standing there and swore softly, reaching up to grab her blouse. He ran around the rock reaching for it. She kicked him in the balls and slid into it. She immediately started to scream. He tore it off her and ran his hands all over her, brushing off ants. Then he drew his fish knife, lopped off a large piece of aloe, slit it open and rubbed it all over her. She shivered at the coldness of it as her n*****s doubled in size. His hands were calloused and rough but the stinging was going away as she stood there wondering what to say or do. His hands stopped. His grey blue eyes looked into her soul, and the dog barked. He took off his shirt and wrapped her in it. It felt warm and loose as she slid her arms into the sleeves. " Come, you need care fast" He ran her back to the house, poured a glass of water, and handed her two pills. "It's Ibuprofin" get them down and get in this shower." She stood naked under the hot water. It suddenly turned cold. She turned and there he was wiping her down with a blue ice bag, that hurt as it moved over her. After what seemed forever, he stopped and turned on the hot water. Five minutes later she was sitting on the patio, with a large red towel wrapped around her hips. His hands were all over her and all she could smell were coconuts. She looked at the jar he was using. It had a wide open top and she could see where his fingers had spooned out what looked like Crisco. "What is that stuff "she asked. "Pure coconut oil just like the rum you're drinking. Coconuts cure any thing" She looked at the half empty water glass and realized why she was calming down He watched the deep green eyes slowly close as she sank down into the deck chair. She woke to the spackle sound of the big black fry pan. He was sauteeing flounder filets and placing them on hot buttered fresh baked bread. Her mouth watered as he folded one over and handed it to her. She couldn't tell when her teeth went through the bread. The whole sandwich almost disappeared in one swallow. He handed her a second as if it was normal and it was half gone before she realized she was eating his. He handed her two more pills and a glass of milk, as she put down the remainder of his sandwich. "This all tastes so good " she said. "I normally don't drink milk, but this is good." He smiled. "It's goat's milk. I swap it for pie. Finish the floundwich I just had breakfast." The dog watched mournfully as the last bite went down her throat. The rising sun burst into the room. The dog shot to his feet and then sat down again between them. He looked into his master's eyes and his ears fell. A giggle broke from her lips, and she woke up laughing. Something else she hadn't done in a long time. "I am oh so glad I kicked you in the balls". He laughed with her, realizing if he'd got to the blouse first she'd have never been bitten. He'd seen that ant colony a week before when he'd leaned against the post to scratch his foot. It was hollow inside made up of two by sixes with two by three spacers. The cross piece with the hang hooks was full of them, as was the post itself. He looked at the naked form beside him. "You've added a few freckles darlin' but I think you'll be OK" She reached across to pull on the back of his neck and kiss him soundly. The dog left. When she woke again all she could smell was freshly ground coffee and bacon. She rolled over and looked up at the cupola in the domed ceiling. The entire edge of it looked like polished granite. She stood up on the bed for a closer look. It was. In fact it was three different colored pieces of granite glued together and tooled to form a decorative edge. He buried his face in her belly and Bronx cheer tickled her till she fell onto the mattress. "Gerrup witch" She followed him down the spiral stair and slipped into the bathroom. One look into the full length mirror and all thoughts of coffee disappeared. He heard the shower start and walked out to the patio where the dog was waiting. They jogged together through the long grasses scaring up the occasional bird and generally waking up wildlife. A stray cat furred up and spit at them. Neither one of them slowed a step. They'd seen this tabby before. She stood there in the streaming hot water reliving the day before. Tonight they were going to the annual poachers' feast. It was going to be at Annie's. They'd stopped there on the way home from fishing. She hadn't been fishing since she was eleven. Her father had died and a lot had ended with him. She'd opened up, and her whole life since then had spilled out of her like vomit. He'd listened as he'd baited up her hooks and she'd caught so many fish while jabbering away like a pissed off blue jay, he'd finally stopped baiting the hook and just listened, while he cleaned and filleted the whole bucketful. She'd stopped when he'd started stuffing all those little cloth tie bags, and helped him tie them up again. He'd put a spoon of mustard and a crushed garlic clove in each one of them, and a drop of red hot went on each tied bag. From there they'd driven down to the Cape Cod Canal with his pots and put them out to sink in the deep running water. She'd never seen lobster pots that floated before. He'd laughed and shown her his twist on sink caps that deflated the inner tubes. The bags on the side blew up from the CO2 cartridges that went off when the line was pulled quickly. She'd never seen anyone work that fast before. it was like watching a machine. The striper fishing had been fun and the game warden had been so glad to see her. She looked for hair conditioner then gave up and used the clear bottle next to the shampoo. She shook it first because it looked like salad dressing. It took a while to rinse out. She found his hairbrush and comb and went to work on her hair. She watched in the mirror as it flowed down so nice and shiny from brushing. Her hair had never looked so good or smelled so spicy. She emerged from the bathroom to find him setting the table and pouring the coffee He looked at her hair and reached over to feel and smell it. " I see you found the dog shampoo. That'll keep the ants and fleas off all day". "Is it really dog shampoo?" she asked in dismay. " Well it's what I mixed it for, but obviously it's for red heads too. It looks and feels and smells fantastic" She brushed it back with her hands and reached for her coffee. Annie was having a ball. She was the only one besides the dog not working. He looked at her in puzzlement and she laughed aloud. Vickie looked up from the lobster pot a question in her eyes. Annie shook her head and nodded toward the dog. Vickie looked, shrugged, and went back to tonging the lobsters tail first into the oblong copper kettle. Mac picked up the bag of corn husks and headed for the back door. Barb stood by the next pot waiting for the water to boil. The bubbles started furiously. She put in all the stolen corn, shut off the burner, and covered the pot. Out on the patio George was turning a large roast of venison (road kill) on a spit over a roaring fire. The ash can lid in his other hand serving as a shield from the fire's heat. The stone shelf on the opposite wall held three aluminum wrapped stuffed stripers. Further down toward the marsh the rest of the troop were busily watching steaming seaweed. Linda and Dianne were setting the table with trenchers, wooden spoons of various sizes, and a collection of fillet and boning knives that looked and were razor sharp. Annie poured half her beer into the dog's bowl and sat down beside it on her heels. The dog looked from her to the beer then went back to watching the show. She looked down at the bottle and swore. "Who the hell put St Pauli girl in the beer bucket" she yelled. She grabbed the dog's dish and dumped it into the sink along with the quickly emptied beer. She then rinsed out the bowl,and pulled a Budweiser out of the icy water barrel. She twisted off the cap poured half into the dog's bowl, took a swallow from the long necked bottle and set the bowl down in front of the dog. He looked at her for a long moment and then proceeded to empty the bowl. Coke and Sheila were walking in again from the beach. She looked at the expressions on their faces and inwardly sighed with relief. He'd walked in with her and started to introduce her as his new and last girlfriend. Then the silly b*****d had asked her what her name was. The blush had started from her belly and shot up her face so fast it had bounced. She'd left. He'd followed her. Annie glanced around everybody was very busily trying to look busy. Sheila looked around then looked at Annie and laughed. They hugged Vickie led the rest of them into a group hug. Linda held back and looked at Coke. He looked at her, then reddened. "The horse whisperer" she said in a shocked voice. "Why are you here instead of Dakota?" He looked at her for a long minute, then looked down at the floor. "All those damned horses I gave up on. I was such an a*****e. I quit and went to California" "Don't you know that studs don't like men unless they're queer? Only the mares will give a man like you a second glance." He looked up in astonishment. "How the hell do you know that?" "They told me" she laughed " I'm special, even the mares like me" Sheila looked at the two of them chatting away like old friends and turned to see the dog blocking her way. A large familiar hand settled on her shoulder. "Give me a hand the clams look ready" Coke led her down toward the marsh. The dog followed them. The little Mercedes sportster rolled up the highway at a steady 70 thanks to the cruise control. He did not need police interference on this trip. George's friend Jake had got him the information he'd needed from the Canadian registration in the glove compartment. Mapquest had done the rest. The money from the auction had come in handy to keep Sheila busy for the weekend. Vickie and the girls had got together for a shopping safari on Martha's Vineyard. Ostensibly it was to outfit Sheila in all the clothes a woman would need to live with a famous artist such as himself. Actually it was to keep her busy till his mission was accomplished. Vickie was a genius for dreaming up the auction. The stew had been such a raving success. He'd started with the rest of the venison, chopped into dice sized pieces sauteed in butter and olive oil, then dumped into the largest lobster boiler. After that had come the onions all diced and separated with tiny cubes of celery and chopped bacon. This too had been dumped into the boiler with three bottles of St Pauli Girl beer left over by Brett and a bottle of the worst red wine he'd ever tasted. He'd dumped in three jars of chopped garlic and four jars of chopped ginger, and when that hadn't helped a cup of dark rum. The honey had finally got it back to a normal smell. From there he'd sauteed potatoes and corn until browned, dumping the juice from the three cans into the pot. Then he'd peeled carrots down to strips and dumped all that in too with a couple of pans of water he'd boiled the greens in. The rest of the roast rabbits and the chopped turkey bits had been what he 'd thought was the end, until George had shown up with six different cans of beans and two jars of roasted red peppers. At three dollars a cup and five dollars a bowl it had started to disappear too quickly. The corn was burnt from frying it too fast and the potatoes had to be nuked after a few minutes browning but they'd added a bottle of HP sauce and all kinds of chopped tomatoes green and red with a bag of peppers from Annie's garden. He'd fried up another five pounds of hamburger too He laughed to himself as the little car rolled along. All those years he'd wanted one of these sleek looking things and it was such a disappointment. The old TR6 had handled so much better. He could still taste that damned soup. It had developed a life of its own and every one had wanted more. The five dollar price to bid had been a rousing success. He'd thought of that. Then when the price had gotten ridiculous Vickie's idea of group ownership had driven them even higher. All for a painting he'd done for the hell of it. Oh it was good but actually it had been an accident. The shape of the trees from the sketch he'd made at the scene had magically turned into a scene all its own when he'd put it in oil on canvas. One thing was certain the girls had enough money to keep them busy. He crossed the border with only one small lie. He'd denied carrying guns or alcohol. The roads in Nova Scotia were almost as bad as Scituate's and were being repaired almost as constantly. He pulled into the driveway at the bottom of the hill and drove slowly up to the house. Black eyes saw the car pull into the driveway and smiled wickedly. He went into the bathroom and started to lather up to shave. She was about to get a lesson she'd never forget. The water was running hot on the razor as he heard the stairs creak at the top landing. "Get into bed and wait for me" he yelled through the door. Bob's foot slammed into the door sending it swinging into the room. The razor fell from his hand as he staggered into the bath tub. Fists and elbows slammed into him as he sank to the floor. A boot crashed into his belly then swung to slam into the side of his head. He woke up in his bedroom in dead silence. Everything hurt He opened his eyes to see a stranger rubbing his knuckles with a hand towel and what looked like lotion. "Give me one reason not even a good one you wife beating a*****e lowlife why I should let you live. Get up. take that paper on the dresser there with the pen and write down that you are agreeable to a divorce from your estranged wife. Go ahead try it. Anything, anything at all except doing what I tell you and I won't be able to stop myself." He stood there hurting all over looking into the open drawer of the dresser at his gun. He kept writing and glanced up in the mirror at his tormenter. There under his arm he saw a bulge in the open shirt. He finished writing and handed the paper over. "Now comes the good part." He broke off and turned toward the doorway. "Get back in your room" his father yelled "and don't even think about coming out again" The little boy turned and fled. "And don't tell me you wet the bed again" A fist slammed into his ear. "and now for the good news, give her custody" The paper was back on the dresser. He looked at his gun again, then spoke. "She can have the useless little pisser" he wrote down some words and handed over the paper. "Now I have some more instructions for you. Listen closely. Stay here in this house until you get a phone call telling you you can go. Then and only then sell this house change your name and go as far away from here as you can. Do anything except what I've just told you and I'll come back here and bury you. The gun is still there. It is still loaded, and even with your son in the house I will still shove it up your a*s and pull the trigger. Go hide in the cellar." Bob walked into the boy's room and shut the door. The deep green eyes looked at him from the other side of the bed. There were so many freckles they overlapped when he blinked. " Your mom sent me to get you" The eyes lit up. " If there's anything you can't leave behind grab it now and let's go" He turned and opened the door and walked down the stairs. When he got to the car the boy was there at his side holding on to a rolled up blanket. He opened the door, and the boy huddled into the passenger seat, holding on to the blanket for dear life. They drove off without a backward glance. All the way down to Boston without a peep, just looking at the sky and the trees. He pulled into Faniell hall and parked the car. The boy sat there trembling. Bob picked up his phone and said "Wilson" "Thank you for calling the law offices of Robert Wilson the third, Mr Wilson is presently out of the office you may leave a message at the beep". "Get your fat arse out of that soft leather chair and come down to your car. I need your services counsellor " five minutes later the hon. RG Wilson III waddled painfully up beside the car and asked what was going on. Fifteen minutes later Bob Bob and Bobbie were sitting at a table eating icecream. Robbie had just finished speaking to a very sore black eyed canadian who was now on his way out to become somebody else. "It 'll take a week or two but I don't see anything in the way of her freedom or his either. Shall we get some more icecream or do you want to drive in rush hour traffic." About then there was a mewing sound from the smallest Bob. A cat's head popped out of the blanket and licked Bobbie's cone. She sat between Vickie and Annie on the raised hatch at the very prow of the ferry's top deck. "Not exactly Titanic but who needs men on a shopping trip?". "Right Vic. We can have the stuff delivered if it gets too heavy" "What are we buying?" asked Sheila. "Everything" they chorussed, and giggled like naughty schoolgirls. "Don't we need a plan?" asked Linda, looking to her sister for support. Dianne opened her mouth to speak, but Vickie beat her to it. "First we go to Tardiff's. They have the most expensive and the best of what we need". "What do we need?" asked Sheila "Everything" they all sang it this time and the regular passengers, and tourists, swung their heads to see what was going on. "When was the last time they told us to go shopping? and gave us enough money to spend too?" Annie was having a ball, and they hadn't even got to the island yet. "Is all we're going to do is shop? asked Linda. "Why?" asked Vickie. "Well there's a beautiful riding stable and I know the owners. They own a couple of supermarkets here too." "Now that sounds like fun" said Annie "I love to ride, What kind of horses are they?" They chattered on like teenagers away from their parents. Dianne drew back and watched them enjoying new found freedom. Sheila was quiet but seemed to be enjoying herself, or trying to look like she was. Vickie kept her rattling on about how she'd always loved horses, but never really rode them. Her father had trained trotters, and she'd had her share of stall cleaning. She had told a few tales of his training methods, and Linda had jumped right in to tell her how her grand father had trained trotters too. They left the ferry and walked up the hill with the rest of the tourists, stopping occasionally to look in windows, but Vickie hurried them into Tardiff's and latched onto the head sales lady. Dianne looked around at the light jackets and saw one that was exactly what she was wearing. She looked at the price and gasped. The sales lady looked at her and the two jackets. "Did you buy that here? she asked. Linda laughed as her sister said "No" demurely. "I just saw the price and wished I had though" Linda lowered her head and turned away ."Where did you get it?" asked the sales lady. "A little place in the East Conway Mall in New Hampshire" They picked out a complete set of clothes for Sheila and a dress for Vickie that was too perfect to let go. Annie bought a handbag big enough to put her old one in, and they went on to another store. "Where is the East Conway Mall?" asked Vickie Linda roared with laughter as Dianne told her it was the North Conway dump. "We get a lot of clothes there. I guess they wear something once and it's done with so whatever fits I bring down and we try them on. There's a leather jacket that should go with that dress you just bought." "Linda!" They all turned at the sound of a strange voice. A lady who had an entourage of higher class friends, left them in mid conversation to run and hug Linda. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? You have to see my new horse. I haven't bought him yet and I won't until you approve the purchase. Come please he's absolutely gorgeous. Bring your friends. Do they ride? Oh Come I'll call for the carriage. I'm sorry ladies you'll have to lunch without me." She pulled a phone from her jacket pocket and spoke into it rapidly. As she did her eyes were on Dianne's jacket. It was the same as her 's in just a darker shade of khaki. "We'll wait here" she said pointing to the open seating outside a french style cafe. "James will be here any minute and we should all fit in the carriage quite well. What did you do to get that perfect shade? and I'm Marion you look like Linda's sister" "I'm Dianne" "Oh you're Dee the girl who's taste is better than an interior decorator's I've been wanting to meet you. How did you change that jacket?" "I soaked it in a bucket of hot coffee for 24 hours" The minibus arrived and they all got on with room to spare. By the time they arrived at the stables Marion was fully aware of exactly what they were doing on her island and had joined the group. She also wanted desperately to see the auctioned painting. She hurried them into the stable. Showed them a dozen pair of riding chaps and suggested they leave their good clothes in the tack room to wear after riding. She watched Sheila walk up to the stall with the black stallion to throw her arms around his neck and nuzzle his ear. "You can ride anything here girls . I have to take Linda up to the top pasture. They walked off up the hill to the house and Vickie looked at Annie with laughter in her eyes. "Do you believe this place? The tackroom is bigger than my kitchen, and cleaner too" They stood there in their blouses and riding chaps, looking at each other and giggling. 'If they could only see us now' thought Vickie. Sheila in her thong was positively the sexiest, although Dianne was a close second in Victoria's secret purple. They went out into the corral with the tacked up horses. Sheila was leading the big black saddle less stud. Marion had taken it with her to show Linda her new horse. Annie gave her a leg up and she sat astride comfortably, her red hair blowing and hiding her face. They all mounted and started down the trail toward the woods. Sheila held back and rode into the paddock, They stopped and watched as she walked in circles and then started to trot. Suddenly everything smoothed out and the stallion was pacing around with his feet almost floating above the dry clay. Marion stopped talking up to Linda who rode beside her on a long maned black stallion, snorting and blowing at the girls sitting watching. "My Lord" said Marion in open mouthed amazement. "He's pacing, however did she get him to do that?" "Like this" said Linda, leaving her to watch as she first trotted and then paced closely alongside Sheila. They were in perfect synchronization and practically touching. "Put your left foot on his neck and jump behind me " she whispered. Her arm extended to almost encircle Sheila's waist. Sheila obeyed at once and they all cheered as the stud fell back to walk over to Marion. "Tell her it's a secret when she asks. Then whisper in her ear." Linda muttered. How did you get him to pace Sheila?". She looked over at Linda and brushed off her chaps. " It's a secret" she walked over to Marion and whispered in her ear. "He started to trot, I started to fall off, and he caught me" Marion looked at her and smiled broadly. "I'll have to try that "she said, loudly enough for the girls to hear. "Take the woods trail it only crosses one road and it's private enough to ride naked. Come and see my new horse Sheila ,they'll be fine without you for a while." She glanced down at Sheila's thong and patted her right cheek ."If I had an a*s like that I'd flaunt it too." They'd almost missed the last ferry and sat up on the top deck talking over the day and where they were stopping for supper. This late it would have to be Chinese maybe even take out to be scoffed down at Annie's. Sheila's eyes brimmed over and tears rolled down her cheeks. Suddenly she was sobbing and holding herself into a tight bundle with her hands over her face. " I can't. I can't. Ooh I have to go back. I can't leave him." She was sobbing uncontrollably now, and Annie was hugging her tightly. They all listened intently as the whole story came tumbling out. Her boyfriend had died in a motorcycle accident. She'd then found out she was pregnant. The brother had married her. She'd had the child, a boy, and then he'd started beating her. Kept her prisoner in her own home, left to her by her parents. When he did let her out he'd held the child as hostage to guarantee her coming back. This was the longest she'd been away. "Does Bob know any of this?" asked Annie. "Yes I told him at the poacher feast" Annie looked at Vickie and they nodded in agreement. "We've been had" Sheila looked up through red eyes realizing something else was going on. "What? " she asked. Annie spoke up. "You may be in for a surprise when we get back. It might be good and it might be bad. We'll hope for good. Either way we'll skip supper till we get home." Linda looked at Dee "We should tell Dad." Vickie's head snapped around. "Give it some thought girls. It might be ok already and Those People have no limits." Annie heard the capitalization and immediately thought of Mac's new neighbors. When they arrived at the tower house in Scituate there was a small red haired boy tossing a ball that Bud kept bringing back. He was busily pulling the ball out of Bud's teeth when Sheila 's voice broke his attention. Bud opened his mouth and Bobbie fell down holding the ball and looking up at his mother. Annie held up her hands. "My place girls last one in cooks" Sheila stood there holding her son in her arms looking down into Bud's knowing eyes. "Where is he?" The dog's eyes looked at her then back at the top floor of the house. Silently she followed the dog up the stairs, hugging her son the whole time. They went into the bedroom and there fast asleep on the bed with of all things a cat rolled up on his neck was the answer to her dreams. Twenty minutes later all five of them were fast asleep. The cat was between the dog's legs He sat in the sternsheets resting his arm on the tiller to relieve the pain in his shoulder, and to keep the boat on a reasonable heading across the harbor. The lighthouse was his reference on one side and the Coast Guard flag on his starboard quarter told him he was exactly over the old wreck. In about ten seconds his rig and the boy's would be teasingly presented to the fish hiding in the wreck's relative safety. Hopefully some large haddock would react to this provocation and the fun of fishing would begin in another mind. The dog's ear twitched as he eased over to port. The white pork rind fluttered on the end of the lead weighted bugeyed hook. The striper stole it from the slower moving haddock and headed out to sea. The boy held onto the rod with both hands as the line screamed out under ten pounds of pressure. "Keep the rod tip up into the sky Bobbie" His own line was dragging from the haddock's late but successful grab at the further pork rind. The boy held on with the rod tip jammed against his knees. His eyes were bugging out of his head as the bass leaped out of the water. He let up on the line in awe at the size of the big silver striped fish. Unknowingly he'd done the right thing. The fish hit the water as he once more held the rod tip high as he could, with the butt end bouncing against his shins. The dog was caught up in as rapt awe as his mother, both sitting there with open mouthed attention. The haddock was landed and bucketted without either one of them noticing. He slid the empty rod into the side racks and held the boat in an even turn to keep the strain on the rod from pulling the hook out of the striper. "Keep the rod tip up into the sky Bobbie" He said it calmly as if it was an everyday occurrence for a four year old to land a 45lb striper. The boy obeyed, eyes bugging out of his head, his tongue sticking out of one side of his twisted jaw, "Now reel in and keep that tip up." He held the butt end of the rod between his heels and his left hand was at least six inches above the reel. His right hand reeled in every time there was slack enough to do it. The striper surfaced and rolled to rip the plug out of his torn lip. The net rose from the water and into the boat, as Bob's hand grabbed at gills. He held onto the struggling fish, pulling it back into the water to keep the others dry. There was no way he was about to let go. His thumb was jammed into the corner of the jaw and his fingers were wrapped around it. A few minutes later he swung the fish into the boat again, tapping it just above the nose with a loaded billy club. The dog had lost interest and was curled up in the bow. "Not a bad first try at fishing Bobbie shall we go in and I'll show you how to clean it? or do you want to keep fishing? " He watched the green eyes thinking. Marion drove the TR6 slowly away from the Scituate cottage. She did not like being refused. It had taken a lot of time and trouble to locate the old couple who had bought the picture. They had let her look at it, hanging over their mantel in half light with reflected sunlight from their open patio doors. They'd paid $2700 dollars as a final bid and the stubborn old fool had rejected her initial offer of five thousand. When she'd offered him ten he'd not even blinked, just told her it was not for sale. She found the tower house. That's what Annie had called Sheila and Bob's place. A little red headed boy was headed out toward the marsh with a dog walking beside him. She got to the back door in time to see them disappear into what looked like high grass. Sheila answered her ring on the bell with a wide happy to see you smile. They hugged, and she followed her back into the enormous kitchen. There was a bounce in her step Marion had not seen before. She glanced over the room and her emotions bubbled out. "This is absolutely fantastic Sheila I can't see any way to improve on this layout and the workmanship is superb." "Oh let me show you the rest of the house Marion" She turned toward the front as the sound of a dog barking stopped her in her tracks. A man burst out of the stairwell at a dead run for the back door. In his right hand was what looked like a cowboy gun. He disappeared into the marsh in the direction the boy and dog had gone. Sheila followed him out to the back yard, still holding the half filled coffee pot she'd been putting on for Marion. They stood there together as there was a sudden burst of gunfire. Bob came upon the dog, Bobbie crouched behind him at the base of a large rock. Five coyotes swung their heads around from their threatening ring. Two died looking. Three died running. Bud sprang over Bobbie to land and leap away over the rock. " Come on bub. we'll get the bath ready for Bud" He looked up into Bob's eyes and the fright died as fast as the coyotes. They headed for the house, looking back occasionally to see if the dog was following. Sheila relaxed as she saw her son hurrying to keep up with Bob. "Hi you must be Marion. Annie said you were coming. You'll have to excuse me I'm busy right now." "I know" said Marion "What can I do?" Hold that door open" Marion held the door open as a dog came through dripping blood and absolutely drenched in it. She followed with Bobbie and Sheila behind her as the dog went up one flight into the bathroom. The shower was running and Bob was running his hands all over the dog. Bud shook and bloody water went every where. Marion grabbed the nearest towel and started mopping it up from the woodwork. She grabbed another towel dipped it into the toilet and wiped down the woodwork again, then again. "Get my needle and thread Sheil" Sheila handed it to him and he started to stitch up the dog's ear. Marion watched in amazement as the dog barely flinched. "How do you do that? Keep him still I mean! That has to hurt." "No it doesn't it's timed to the pinch all he feels is the thread." He stepped back and looked at Bud. Then reached over and squirted what was left of the dog shampoo all over him. In a few minutes Bud was being rinsed with the curtain held closed by Marion. He shook and water went everywhere except on the woodwork. She looked down at her wet clothes and then back up at the dog. His ears lowered and his nose drooped. She laughed as Bob lead him out into the yard. Bob walked back in to watch the two women cleaning up the mess in what looked like a race. "He must have ripped the throat out of that last coyote while it held on to his ear. There's a couple sore spots but I think he'll be fine. Glad I got those rabies shots though" He picked up the 357 Blackhawk and set it down on a small table. He opened the drawer under it and took out a cleaning kit. George walked in the back door. " need any help in the garden Coke?" Bob looked at his old friend and smiled slowly "It was coyotes this time Geo we can bury them later." Marion was standing on the stairwell staring openmouthed at the picture hung in perfect lighting. Bob looked at her and laughed. "We auctioned off the first print" She thought about that stubborn old man and stood there shaking her head. "Coffee's on" said Sheila setting out mugs on the solid maple table. The dog sat on the floor at the end of the table holding the brownies Marion sat there wondering if she could get what she wanted from these oh so independent people. They were all so damned sure of themselves, oh not brusque, or too busy to talk, not full of themselves, just rock solid sure of who and what they were. Each independent, and yet there if needed. If something requiring particular expertise was needed, fine carpentry, boat repair, that new kitchen in Annie's, one of them would start it and before too long the job would be getting done with jokes and smartass remarks bouncing around with suggested improvements. A couple of them would not say a word all day, but work steadily together getting things done. Sometimes no one would help. They'd stand around watching, talking about the weather, or the fishing, anything except the work in progress. Some jobs are a joy to do alone. But you'd best be a master at it or you'd be getting help. She was used to getting her way and maneuvering things enough for them to want to do the things she wanted done. These people were just so good at what they did and so bloody nice there was only one way she could think of to get what she wanted. She had to ask, but what if they said no? He sat there stroking his fingers behind Bud's good ear, sipping too hot coffee with pre wet lips. This woman wanted something. She obviously didn't want to lose the growing feeling of friendship that was filling her. She's been surrounded by phonies for so long and is lost without her positional influence in their class stepped society. She's also a damned nice person and her heart's in the right place. Bud walked over and set his head in her lap. She tickled her fingers across his nose like she'd known him forever, and Bud sat there loving it. The brownie disappeared as if it had never been in reach of the now slobbering maw. Bud slid to the floor with both paws on either side of his jaw. '" I'm hoping to get you to come and build a guest house for me" There it was said. Hurriedly she added. " I just love your house and your workmanship and will pay top dollar" she stopped suddenly. "I'm not trying to buy you. It's just that I want the best I can get and this is the best I've seen. Linda's sister Dianne has made me a couple of sketches, but you'll have free reign to create what you think will fit the site. Bob thought about it to some length, then poured himself another coffee. He raised the pot and looked her in the eye. She nodded and he filled her mug with the last of the pot. "I'll talk to Dianne " Was all he said. She looked at Sheila caught the almost wink and slowly sipped the hot black coffee. She drove the Triumph up onto the ferry and started to go topside for the ride. For no reason at all she opened the trunk. Resting on her suitcase was a wrapped up picture frame. She'd asked if she could buy it as soon as she saw it. So many different shades of green, the depth of it almost pulling her eyes to the horizon, then following the different lines back to the lower left corner. He'd simply said it was not for sale. She stood there looking down into the trunk of her TR6. He'd put her suitcase in for her as she was leaving. Then Sheila had asked her to taste that beach plum jelly. One taste and she had to have a jar. He must have already wrapped it and had put it in when she was in the cellar cold room. She was almost afraid to unwrap it, and decided to do it when she arrived home. She went up on deck and bought a small black coffee to drink at the stern. Her usual spot was open and she sank gratefully into the old canvas deck chair. She'd actually hated to leave. What a strange well not strange but different kind of people they all were. Annie was a gem wrapped in that gruff exterior, and George too. They all had it, an outside that hid a genuine warmth, and a secret they all seemed to share and enjoy. They would be coming over in a couple of days with a full crew and working field office. She' d wondered what a working field office looked like but hadn't asked. It'd been raining off and on for two May weeks and the effect on Sally was simply a reflection of the effects on them all. Even the humming birds were crabby with no food except the feeders and the attitudes of territorial males. If Summer didn't break soon something else would. It had stopped long enough for the roads to dry. Angie was ripping violets out of her lilies showing him the mass of roots on such a small prettily flowered plant. They were taking over everywhere she'd sworn, shaking the handful of roots violently. Sally had tried to sympathize but to no avail she'd known he didn't give a damn. The kids were digging worms to go fishing and arguing over who had the worst tool to dig with. Kevin came whistling up from the garden gate, almost dancing between the piles of ripped up violets. He caught Angie's glare, stopped whistling and looked at Sally. Sally , knowing Angie's mood, dodged the eruption by ordering Kevin to follow him onto the back porch. Kevin didn't know what was going on but, being Kevin, did not ask or even hint at knowing there was anything out of place. "There's a bunch of people down at the boathouse acting as if they own the place" he said, reaching for a glass. "One of them looks like Linda" Sally took the information in stride, thankful that there was something he could pretend to spend time on. "Let's go down and see if we can help them' he said, with a smile starting at the corner of his mouth. They walked past Angie as she filled a plastic bucket with violets. Kevin reached out and took the full bucket. "I'll dump this in the river for you Ange They'll look good on the marsh edge" Sally didn't break stride as his lips tightened in a grin. Two weeks of rain was not about to bother Kevin. They reached the boathouse in time to see two couples poling the Outrage out into the back river. "Hello" said Sally loudly, "Where are you taking my boat?" " Your boat? This is Mac's Boat and Mac's boathouse and we're taking it to the Vineyard to do a tile job. Who are you?" Sally looked at her, hands on the pole and holding the Whaler still " I bought the boat house and the boat from Mac yesterday. You're Kathleen. Take the boat. Do what you want with it. Bring it back gassed up. I'm Sally, you probably don't remember me. I'm a friend of your dad's. Kathleen took all the information in then smiled and started the twin out boards. " Any friend of dad's is a friend of mine" she shouted. The rest of them hung on quickly as she planed over the still water shooting up a brown arc of muddy prop spray. Kevin roared with laughter "She has to be the wildest of the three" he grinned. Sal shook his head and watched them flying into the harbor. "That's a no wake zone!" "She ain't leaving any Sally They must be going out to work on Marion's place. The two of them could tile and paint an outhouse and make you want to own it." "I wonder who the other two are. They didn't look like workers. Oh well let's go tell Angie what's going on before you're in the doghouse" Sally's lips tightened ever so slightly and Kevin pretended to duck. He might tread a little close at times but it was good to have him around Sally smiled inwardly as they reached the garden. Kevin set the pail down and started to refill it with more piles of violets. Angie straightened up, hands on her lower back and stretching her neck to the side. " I think the yardarm needs lowering Sally." Sally smiled and went into the house to pour them all a glass of wine. Kevin was walking back from dumping the bucket, as Sally was telling his wife about Kathleen. So you just let her take our boat? asked Angie "Well I did tell her to bring it back gassed up Ange, and she is Donald's daughter" Angie's frown disappeared as she forgave him, " There's no choice there Sal, none atall. What's she like? I've never met her." "I got the impression she's faster to act than Linda, more intense than Dianne, and as independent as all of them, and like Barbara I would not want to be on her wrong side. Dad loved all of them, and I can certainly see why." Kathy one o'clocked eleven o'clocked on a flat plane into the wind as Steve handed out Mae West life preservers to Kathy and their passengers. "Are we really going all the way to Martha's Vinyard in this little boat? With waves and sea this rough? asked the woman as she put her glasses into her pocket book. Her husband was smiling, his forelock plastered against his face. 'My dad designed this boat to stay dry and to travel in higher seas than this, and all he got was drawing fees and a five cent an hour raise" said Kathleen. " We've been to Nantucket and back on this boat with small craft warnings." If you get cold there's Sou westers in the bow locker, and the thermos has hot ginger tea." "It's remarkably dry, for an open boat Kathy" said Jack, "Would you like another cushion Jean?" Jean nodded and leaned forward to let him tuck it in behind her. Steve watched and wondered if it had been a good idea to bring them along. Jack had suggested that seeing them actually doing a job would help them decide to hire them to work on their summer house while they were in Spain. "You're actually going cold to do a job on a house you've never seen?" asked Jack. "Well it is her sister who asked for us" said Steve, taking another hit on a too tiny roach, " Either she or Kathy will pick out the tile. All I have to do is lay it." Kathy laughed, "If he doesn't like it it won't get laid! We'll argue and choose til we all agree. Sometimes we argue enough to charge for the entertainment". Jean looked at Jack and he laughed. Honesty was a priority if these two were to be left working on the house alone, and so far they certainly felt honest. "How did you get to be so independent and still stay in business?" Jack asked. Jean was suddenly attentive. " We decided when we went into business that it would be done our way or not at all. We'd seen other contractors and listened to people b***h about the results, and everyone was saying the same thing. They're all the same. So we decided to be different, everyone we work for knows ahead of time what we are going to do and what it's going to look like, and even if we lose money that's what they get. So far it's working with one exception, and I didn't want to work for them to start with. We have detailed pictures of the work they weren't satisfied with and have shown them to every customer since. You'll see them before we take the job." The Outrage slowed and turned into a yacht club mooring area. They tied up next to a forty foot sailboat and climbed aboard. Kathy turned on the cabin radio and asked for the launch to pick them up. They waited on deck and Kathy called Marion on her cell phone. They were getting off the launch when she hung up. "Wow can that woman talk! She's coming to pick us up, and we're going to choose the tile on the way to the house." "No way", said Steve "Not without seeing the house" "Dees coming with her and she's got the plans and sketches with her. "The greenboard is going up as we speak. The floor's all levelasticked and ready for grout. Dee's got color pix of all the adjoining rooms." "I'll take a look", said Steve grudgingly. Bob and George watched Marion's minibus disappear down the driveway, "Well "said George, "Are we going for coffee or not?" "Not" replied Bob laughing. They'd gone for coffee a few times working together years ago whenever the customer turned into an a*****e, and they had never gone back. Marion was learning fast to not ask questions, and Sheila had learned to drink more of Marion's freshly made tea, along with a few recipes for scones that she would never use. The job was moving along at a steady pace and Dee's plans were a joy to follow, hell they may even go into business doing this. Annie's portable canteen had enough extra customers to turn her mini vacation into a job. Marion's neighbor had seen the stonework Brett was doing and wanted all his property walled in. He had the money and price didn't matter so long as he got what he wanted. Donald had started on the opposite corner and when they joined it was impossible to tell who had done what. Howie and Patrick had taken turns laboring and were both sitting in the shade drinking beer, with Bud's help. Gee had stepped into the breech, and neither Donald or Brett had waited for anything, in fact Gee had even laid some stone while waiting for them to catch up. Sam She sat there on the piano stool resisting the urge to spin. As a child she'd never enjoyed sitting on that miserable little bench. Her work had blossomed as soon as the stool had replaced it. She'd spun for hours using the rhythm of her dizziness to put the notes in place. Her head still spinning, her toes on the pedals, she'd fingered through progressions in drunken joy, her brain dancing with the joy of playing, and that had been exactly what it was, child's play. She had surpassed her teacher's skills at the age of five. From there the life of a child prodigy had stolen her childhood. .................. She sat on that swivel seat piano stool barefoot to the pedals feeling the whiskey as it vibrated her vocal chords he made that Irish medley smooth and sooth the Baileys let it slide and the Irish Mist was aftertaste She automatically checked the crowd for tippers letting her eyes rest on the old guy sipping shots How long's he been doing that? his cheeks aint even red After this I'll try a little love song Then hit them with a slow arse Bobby Magee Wonder what they'd do if I did the Caileigh dancin' The big guy walked close and dropped a twenty in the tip jar She gave him an air kiss as she slid into the love song The key was perfect for her tired blues voice The old guy's fingers started tapping as he sang She listened to his back up and softened to let it shine When the song ended she stopped playing and clapped "Not too many guys know that song" she said "I wrote it" he whispered " 15.000 feet over the North Pacific" "Give us an Irish song "said the big guy loudly" I want to hear some Irish" Her fingers ran the intro to the Caliegh Dancing hit the two pause and both of them sang the opening words together When they were done the big guy had tears streaming down his cheeks and the crowd was silent The bartender started clapping slowly and the rest burst into applause What do I say to a guy that says he wrote my favorite love song? Up between cloud layers Watching storm trees Shuddering lightning as moonlight and stars flickered over steel grey ocean He'd decided to write a song Maybe that would get her attention Tell her he loved her First he had to tell her what love was then how much she meant He kept it simple I love you and I'll love you forever Through all the years Beyond my dying day Future lovers walking by my graveside Will taste the joy I get from you each day The music was just as simple two verses a bridge and a final verse He had it down pat by the time they returned to Oahu and sang it one night in a bar on South hotel street. Six months later he heard it on a country station written by a guy in Nashville Tennessee. and just about word for word. Oh Well lesson learned. She did like it she did marry him what the hell. He sipped his single malt and remembered all the good times they'd had. They sat there in the closed up bar sipping last calls together Watching the bartender clean up and prep tomorrow "Do you play?" it was all she could think of to say besides why did you lie about writing that song. He seemed so laid back and honest, and had not made a pass at her. Something new in her life of bar hopping. The tip jar was over flowing and she was wondering what to do about that too. "guitar and banjo, mostly finger pickin'" "I just do it for fun and sometimes a song comes along" She was some hurtin' woman he thought wryly, looks like the booze is draggin' her down. Hell I've got all the time in the world now, maybe I should see if I can help a little without pissin' her off. " are you working here tomorrow night?" She laughed and turned to the bartender "Would it be OK?" she asked. Jim straightened from arranging bottles and smiled. She'd walked in off the street at noon and sat at the empty bar with a Bloody Mary that lasted a half hour. He'd given her a second on the house and they'd talked until customers started drifting in. Then she'd walked over to the piano and started playing. " No problemo miss what's your name?" "Samantha, Samantha O'Toole" "I'm Don and if you like I'll bring a banjo and we can see what happens" Jim picked up his hat and jacket and herded them out the door, " See you tomorrow then, and you can play it again Sam" She groaned and asked Don if he wanted to go get a cup of coffee. The tip money was stuffed into her handbag and she was trying to guess how to split it. The rain was that soft misty kind The kind that got you wet from the inside out They walked into the Chinese restaurant and took an empty table near the kitchen She ordered coffee he settled for tea They came out into the night and there was a cab waiting. "your place or mine asked Don looking directly into her eyes. She immediately thought of the mess she'd left this morning. " if it's that bad we can do mine" he laughed. Did I say that aloud she wondered. "When did you call the cab?" "In the Mens' while you paid the bill. It's raining or we could have walked. She'd just wondered how far it was. Can we stop at my place for a sec. He nodded and she rattled off the address to the cabbie. He closed the door and sat back comfortably. She had the weirdest feeling something was tickling his sense of humor. "All right Don what are you laughing at?" " You'll see" he said as the cab pulled in front of her apartment building. They both got out and he paid the cabbie. She watched the cab leave and assumed it was now her place instead of his. The place really was a mess and she was about to tell him where to get off when he said "I live on the top floor, right across from the elevator, why don't you come up in a few minutes, It'll give me time to fluff it up a bit. " She went into her place and threw everything into the back closet. Then took a quick shower while the cat screamed for attention, sorry Wackit I've got a hot date. She dabbed her neck with the little black bottle. Swished some peppermint mouthwash Picked out the red silk shirt and skirt slid through the door fastening the last button as she leaned against the back of the elevator. What the hell was wrong with her It's not like he's the only man in her life. They'd just met for Crissake I wonder what he's got planned. The elevator door slid open and there he stood in his doorway holding a white rose. She walked by him into the apartment, taking the rose and holding the stem in her teeth. The suite or pent house or whatever went on forever. This was not the cheap room she had rented on the ground floor. This was the ritz. He rescued the rose from her open mouth and put it into a slender vase of warm water. Then he dropped in a couple of baby aspirin to help it hold. She watched not knowing what to say. "I just picked it "he said looking at her red silk outfit, " guess I should have cut a red one. "he handed her a glass that looked like a brandy alexander' Sam took a sip not really fond of brandy and her eyes lit up with joy. "I call it a shilleleigh it's equal parts Bushmills Baileys and Irish Mist" C'mon upstairs I'll show you the stars. She followed him up the winding stair case and he slid the doors open onto a roof garden. It was still raining and the roll out awning dripped steadily onto a table height rose garden. Beyond the garden was a large patio with a small fish pond and a covered hot tub. But what held Sam's eyes was the view of the Bay even in the fog of rain it was simply magnificent. What the hell was Don, a millionaire or what? She did not belong here. " A friend of mine owns the building " said Don " are you hungry?" Sam was starved but all she could think of was she had to get out of here. He watched her eyes darting as she fiddled with her collar. "He's richer than most anybody I know but he's normal. We were on the same flight crew." he paused, "He was my best man" Sam's eyes went to his left hand. He smiled sadly, "It fell off when I was surfing Waikiki, I went back out to where I wiped out and dove down to find it shining on the end of my nose. I never wore it again." He started up the grill. Sam opened her eyes to moon light. The clouds had left with the rain. She was covered in coconut oil and a token piece of towel. She slid off the massage table and strode out to the hot tub where Don floated, snoring gently. "Where are my clothes? He opened one eye and waved toward the balcony, 'Did I throw them over the side she thought in panic. " Down stairs in the bedroom" She started toward the stairs, " the shower" he pointed " you'll need it" She ran into the shower and turned on the water. It squirted from everywhere. " Hit the soap button twice Sam" She saw the green button and pushed it twice. The water came with soap and she turned and twisted to get every spot washed. In one minute it went back to rinse. She stood enjoying it for a minute or two and then hit the red button. The water shut off and warm air blew from every direction including up. In moments she was striding toward the stairwell again. Don watched, enjoying every bounce. At the bottom of the stair she looked to the left at an open door. It was a large room and she could see her clothes draped over a far bedpost. As she entered the room she saw a white grand piano set into the corner and closed. Don stepped out of the shower listening to Johann Sebastian Bach like he'd never heard it played before. He went down into the bedroom to see Sam's clothes still draped over the bedpost where he'd put them. Sam sat on the white swivel stool eyes closed, playing her heart out. Her dark red hair had dried spiked.She looked like a Celtic warrior ready for battle. Suddenly the music stopped, "Pie!" She ran for her clothes. Donned them at light speed, then ran for the door. He watched in amazement. "You're baking a pie?" " No I forgot to feed the cat she'll be drastic by now" He sat there alone, wondering if bed was an option. They'd enjoyed steak teriyaki with lightly braised scallops, a couple of drinks, and then he'd given her a full body massage. She'd promptly passed out so he'd taken her clothes to the bedroom. He couldn't sleep so he'd gone back up to the hot tub. He poured a cup of coffee, added cream, then rose to answer the door. He opened the door to Sam holding a Siamese cat in her arms. The cat stared at him with a slightly cross eyed look of equal parts queen and hellion. "This is Pie wackit, and had I not tended to her god knows what she'd have done for payback." " It's not hard to see who's cat she is" said Don watching the cat explore her new surroundings. "She's so pretty and easy going, can she stay?" Sam's eyes widened as she realized what he was really saying. This guy might be old but he sure as hell wasn't slow. She remembered him without clothes and wondered how old he really was. A lot of guys had prematurely grey hair these days, and that six pack belly had not been held in. "Not without me" she said firmly. "We are a pair". Well then let's leave her here to check it out, and go get your stuff. " I always wondered why they never used a black cat in Bell Book and Candle " said Don as his hand slid around her waist. She turned and looked up at him. "Siamese were pretty new then and needed promoting". Was he going to kiss her? The elevator door opened to a couple waiting to get on. They all looked at each other in suspense, then he kissed her anyway. Sam returned the kiss softly in sheer joy. They exited to cheerful grins from the waiting couple.They sat there lost in thought as blues followed blues in raspy twang, taking turns to see if she or he would know the words. He tried not to think of her as memories flooded his mind, all those years together, each not making a move without considering the other. Now she was gone. Booze had helped some, so had moving. Sam needed someone to get her on track. He three finger picked an intro into mood indigo and her fingers danced around the melody as they softly sang the lyrics. God she was good, too good for barrooms, concert halls were where this talent should be heard. He'd had an ear for music all his life, and this girl could make a piano talk. Hell she could play duets alone. He hit a couple of riffs, slid off on his own and sang On Moon Gone Island, soft as a tear running down his cheek. Sam just sat still and listened with the rest of them. The silence after the last plucked string was deafening. The big guy was back and as loud as before. His cheeks were wet. His mouth was tightly shut. He had not moved since the first sad chorus. Sam's fingers ran through the echoes of the melody, tickling at skat filled nuances that brought him back from bayou ramble memories. She stopped and they all exploded in applause. The tip jar was over flowing. Even the bartender had put in his share. He thought of the night they'd bar hopped Waikiki.That last bar when she'd shouted "That guy just kissed the bartender" and that party he'd thrown when she'd sent that Dear John. Sam slid her hand though his hair, pulled his head down and kissed him long and hard. "Leave us leave this place and go to bed mon I'm tired." The guitar lay under the piano in its case with a cat lying possessively on the neck. He drifted off to sleep wondering who was helping who Don stood there holding his coffee cup watching the sun rise over the mountains. Joe had been one hell of a surprise to find and was as close a friend as he'd been all those years ago. The only difference was he was richer than most people and busily traveling with his new wife. He'd asked about Barb just once and then dropped it. A few days later he'd brought it up again but only to say "You haven't changed a bit. I checked it all out on the internet. You can stay here anytime or forever if you like. We're going to the south of France to see her family." Don sipped his coffee remembering the times they'd had together, each knowing what the other would do in any given situation. The guy had killed her by accident, returning fire in a drive by shooting. After the trial he'd asked the judge to be lenient with him, after all it had been an accident and he was a victim of his environment. The judge had listened and he'd got out on good behavior in less than three years. It had taken him three days to disappear. Hopefully no one would ever find him. Joe had known as soon as he'd read of the plea for a light sentence. Some things will never change. They'd met on the train to Oklahoma, both fresh out of boot camp, Bainbridge for Don, and Great Lakes for Joe. They were all in dress blues with the seaman apprentice stripe shiny new on their left shoulder, hats cocked and twisted for full effect. Joe's ears stuck out at right angles from his whiskered scalp that was starting to grow in like the rest of them. He was bent over a scuttlebutt slurping up mouthfuls of water and looking up at Don at the same time. ' Man oh man is that guy ugly' Don thought. He straightened up, wiping his rather full lips with the back of his hand. He then stuck it straight out to be shaken. Don grabbed it before he could pull it back and say don't hand me that s**t. They both knew what he'd done and laughed together. "I'm Joe Margowsky from Chicago and lately Great Lakes You must be from Bainbridge. Don smiled and nodded " I'm Don Mickle from Massachusetts" "That's not a Boston accent I'm hearing "Joe had said. "No it slips in when I'm not careful " said Mike. " you're a bloody limey then?" And you're a bloody jew so we should get along fine. Joe stopped whatever he was about to say, "How the hell do you know that?" "That we'll get along fine?" "That too!" "It doesn't look like boot camp changed you any more than it did me mate" No it's just bullshit piled onto bullshit with more to come and levels of arse holes to spread it. But stick with me Don and before we're done we'll be farting through silk. Sam slid her arms around his waist , "Would you like that freshened up?" "I' d like to do some toast and eggs with what's left of that steak if that's okay?" She wondered what he'd been thinking about. Was he having second thoughts? She glanced toward the bar as they headed for the coffee. He stopped to hug and kiss her soundly, then carried on to pour them coffee, "There's dark rye with raisins in the bread drawer". It didn't seem to matter what he drank or how much, nothing helped, and nothing stopped the fact that she was gone. That last look into his soul as her life left. Why was he still alive? The guy had known there was no way. It was over. "Oh S**t" were his final words. He'd shot him in the mouth to shut him up. There was no satisfaction. He hadn't expected any. It was just something that had to be done. The other guys, the drive- bys, had been harder to find. They'd had no idea why they died in such slow agony. None of it had helped. Not one lousy drink had helped at all, but he'd kept on going, listening to her telling him to get back to living. Now he was slowly coming out of it. Joe had helped. He'd found him almost by accident, surfing the web to preoccupy his mind. It had felt good to see his ugly puss again. Age had not hurt his inner beauty. It was the same old Joe, and talk about farting through silk, he was rich beyond belief. Sally had called him a couple of times, but took the hint and left him alone. There was no way he would get lost, not with O'Reilly and Howie looking. Sally had called them off, knowing there was nothing to be done but wait. The guitar was silent in his lap. Tears slid ever faster down his cheeks. He could feel their rolling fall across his already streaming skin. They dripped in steady runs cascading down to wet his faded jeans. What a life they'd had together with envious friends who'd wanted even half of what they'd built together, He strummed the open strings and whispered words. I collected all my tears and froze them, to ice my roads of remember. Drinking them down in torrents of recall. And still they fell in streams of where and how to find her. he heard her scream to stop and look around,=. She held his head against her naked breast, fingers rhythmic stroking at the bony passions of his soul. The loss was ever there behind his every move knowing how she'd answer to his needs telling him to live and find a way, to stand and let the world just fall away. He felt the heartbeat thudding in his ear, and realized the present was now here. He moved his head and kissed her soft young breast, squeezing her to tell her he was there. A tear fell from her eye as she hugged him tight to sigh, without words they told each other they were there. They both could feel the song her ghost was singing, catching echoes from still thrumming wood. His fingers danced through chords as blue as heartbreak. Following and leading as they put together flowing thoughts of ever living love. Sam envied her and wished she'd had his youth, But what was left was more than she'd ever hoped to have. She'd always be in his thoughts, Sam looked into his eyes. The tears still welled but she could feel the joy that fed them. Never thought I'd love another woman like this, I just wanted to help her . To get her on track and together. She'd just about given up. Never thought of what I wanted. Living too long lost. They were good for each other. Songs seemed to float between them as their fingers picked and pranced on strings and keys trying to follow and lead at the same time, laughing at their gaffs and rerunning through repeated bits of melody, throwing in a word or two to remember later. It was all on tape to edit when they awoke. It's been a while Sam. Are you coming? I know you're ready, more than ready. You won't need a shot for courage. I'll be there with you, laughing. Forget about all those other tries. This is different. They were auditions where you were judged by teachers. This will be the real thing. The Boston Symphony With the usual crowd of experts, pseudo critics, and believe it or not an audience that is used to magnificent talent, and know what they like to hear. I know hon. I know you're scared. So here's what I want from you. While you're doing Mozart or Chopin or even Bach. I want to hear moon gone island as skat as background noise clear enough for me to sing it. Oh not right away babe but as soon as you can hear it and fit it in. Sam was looking at him as if he was insane. How in hell had he pulled this off? In five minutes she would be playing at a symphony concert. Actually playing before all those talented people and that massive crowd sitting there listening ready to pounce on her slightest mistake, and he wants Moon Gone Island at the same damned time. He's serious goddamit! How did he get her here? Who in Hell did he bribe or threaten? The flight had been terrifying, a private plane with a shower for crissake. Just another friend. How many friends did Don have? He swept her into his arms, hugged and kissed her, then escorted her out to the piano stool. She sat down and felt it swivel. Her eyes suddenly laughed. A swivel stool no less. Gawd she loved this man. Don stood in the wings through the whole performance. There was no hesitant warm up. That music really had belonged at Normandy Beach and from there it just got better. It ended with the same echo she'd fingered when first she'd heard him sing it. She sat there to a standing ovation, barefoot as always, as voices chanted encore encore. She stood and bowed then sat down spun around once then played and sang Moon Gone Island in its brief and poignant entirety, with tears streaming down her face. Don sat behind the curtains while Sam led the orchestra on a magic carpet ride of Mozart madness, the conductor slid into her performance adding his own embellishments as his face beamed with the ecstasy of her single minded concentration. It is a delight when several musicians play at or above their best. Tonight Sam had every one of them enjoying every note. There was no way Sam would slip through these cracks. Fame had found her and the joy flowed through her in the music she lived for. He could feel Barb's cheek against his own, as ghost hands ruffled through his hair. She came bounding backstage throwing herself into his arms, still shuddering with the joy of achievement. Then she stopped suddenly and looked deeply into his eyes.

Reviews

[Ylva]

I thought it was great! Maybe break this down into paragraphs. Loved it!

[James Watts]

Might want to break this down into paragraphs. Sort of confusing as it stands.