3rd World Products, Inc., Book 4

by Ed Howdershelt

  Toni said, "You were scheduled for the beginning of next month. What happened?"

  With a slight shrug and a hard look at me, Joanie said flatly, "They moved it."

  "They moved it?" asked Toni, "Or you moved it?"

  She received only a flat, silent stare as an answer. I studied my drink bottle for a few moments, then drank some of it and carefully centered the bottle on one of the loose coasters on the table before speaking.

  "Rescheduling abdominal surgery just to keep us from going to a science fiction convention is a bit much, Joanie." Looking at Sue and Tiger, I said, "Boots and saddles. We're getting out of here."

  Toni ruffled Tiger's face and stroked him, then kissed me goodbye and hugged Sue as I headed for the screen door and opened it. Joanie's expression didn't change much as the flitter settled into the yard; she'd seen it before a few times. Toni gave us a small wave as we lifted.

  Once we were underway, Sue gave me a rather long look, then turned her attention to Tiger.

  "What?" I asked.

  Without looking up she asked, "Are you sure that leaving was the right course of action, Ed? And shouldn't we at least have let Selena know we were leaving?"

  "She left first and she has a datapad if she wants to talk. Sel locked herself in her room, so I'd guess she isn't going to be standing up to her mother today. Joanie wants Sel to date men her own age, not one twenty-plus years older. She also wants grandkids and knows that I was fixed back in '71. I'm not her idea of Sel's Mr. Right."

  Sue looked at me for a moment, then went back to ruffling Tiger as she asked, "How does Selena feel about children?"

  "She's been with me for several years, Sue. Not once has she said anything about wanting them anytime soon."

  With a slight nod, Sue continued to stroke Tiger. Some moments later a datapad screen manifested in front of me. Selena's face appeared.

  "Sorry, Ed. She really got to me this time."

  Nodding, I asked, "Did you hear about her surgery?"

  Sel's gaze narrowed as she said, "No. I haven't been out of my room."

  I took a breath and told her.

  "She rescheduled it to coincide with the convention, Sel."

  Startlement became mild shock, then anger, and she glanced back at the bedroom door while almost whispering, "That bitch!" Turning back to face me, she said, "She can have her goddamned surgery whenever the hell she wants, Ed. I won't be there."

  Shaking my head, I said, "Give it some thought. How you feel right this moment wouldn't keep you from kicking yourself for the rest of your life if anything went wrong, and you'd always hold me partly to blame for being involved at all. She's got you -- us -- over a barrel with this trick."

  Rage turned cold in Sel's face as she growled, "The hell she does. I'll call you back later, Ed."

  When I nodded and said, "Okay," Sel's finger stabbed the 'off' icon. The datapad disappeared as Sue looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

  "What do you think she'll do, Ed?"

  "Argue. Loud and long. But she has no leverage, Sue. It's going to be her will against her mother's all the way, and Joanie already has the advantage by being able to use her surgery as an emotional club."

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  After snarfing down a Tostino's pizza I checked email. When I finished that little chore, I almost followed my habit of scanning the newsgroups, but found that I really wasn't in the mood. I turned off the computer and stood up.

  "Sue, I'm going to the pub. Gotta let off some steam. Care to come along?"

  She looked at me oddly, but said, "Okay," and changed into her little black dress.

  I took a long moment to admire her, then said, "Not the flitter this time. The car needs a run."

  Patting Tiger on my way past the melodeon, I said, "You have the conn, Tiger. Hold the fort 'till we get back."

  He said, "Yahhh!" then seemed to go back to sleep.

  As I opened the car door for Sue, she asked, "Should we be using the car before you've had it repaired, Ed?"

  "The insurance guy's seen it already. I straightened the tailpipe and jacked the bumper back out a bit and the taillights all work. If the other car hadn't pretty much slid under the bumper, there'd have been a lot more damage."

  My 84 Olds Eighty-Eight started readily, even though the engine knocked loudly when it revved a bit.

  "That can't be good," said Sue.

  "It's a rod or a bearing. Been doing that for three years. I'm still deciding whether to fix it or dump it, so I guess I'm just waiting for it to die to push the issue over the edge."

  Sue looked thoughtful for a second, then said, "Repair of either problem would require dismantling the engine."

  I glanced at her and said, "No, it wouldn't."

  She looked startled at my response and displayed a mechanic's repair chart on a field pad.

  "Ed this is..."

  "Check the price of a fix," I interrupted. "Then check the price of a used engine from a junkyard."

  As she referenced my suggestion, I listened to the engine. Any worse than usual? Hm. Maybe get it fixed, after all? A replacement engine would cost a grand, installed by a parts yard, and the Olds was a big, easy-chair-comfortable ride.

  It was apparently considerably more solid than the later-model cars, too. The 1999 Olds 98 Regency that had hit me had become two feet shorter above its bumper and there'd been broken plastic all over the road.

  The 98's fenders had been made of fiberglass. Something about that bugged me deeply, aside from the fact that the 98 had shattered when it hit my old steel brick. I decided that I didn't want a plastic car, even if I didn't keep my 84 Olds.

  "I see," said Sue, referring to repair versus replacement, "Is there some reason you don't simply buy a new car?"

  "Yup. I don't like the new ones. They all look alike."

  After a moment of apparently wondering if I was serious, she said, "That can't be the only reason."

  "No, ma'am, it isn't. A new car is a money-hole from the moment you sign for it. As much as a third of the dealer price is pure profit and full-coverage insurance is outrageous. I only bother owning a car so I can get from place to place, ma'am, and for the last few years, I've only driven this thing about once or twice a week. What's that really worth to me?"

  She gazed at me for a moment, then said, "I don't know, Ed. What's that worth to you?"

  Shrugging, I said, "Not more than about a grand, and only because it's hard to find anything even reasonably presentable and dependable for less."

  As I'd explained my views to Sue, I'd decided to call Bost Automotive about a used engine. He'd have one or know where to get one and he'd probably toss in the other little fixes.

  Susie was behind the bar when we arrived and took seats at the bar. She was doing a happy little hip-swinging hop-dance to Juice Newton's "Playing with the Queen of Hearts".

  Her short, a-line skirt flipped deliciously as she moved, and Bill-somebody shoved his change across the bar with a big grin. The money disappeared into Susie's tip jar as she grinningly passed him.

  Then she turned and saw Susanne. Susie froze for a moment, glanced almost apprehensively at Bill, then she approached our end of the bar. Bill's eyes narrowed as he also realized that I seemed to be with the wrong woman.

  Susie made a stop at the cash register for quarters, then approached our end of the bar.

  "Hey, Ed," said Susie, eyeing Sue's little black dress, "Who's your new, uh, friend?"

  With a grin, I said, "My 'new, uh, friend' is Susanne, Susie. She's Steph's replacement, but Steph will still be dropping in now and then."

  Susie fixed me with an examining gaze for a moment, then looked at Susanne again.

  "Uh, huh. I see. Well. Here ya go; two bucks in quarters and an Ice House coming up." Turning to Sue, she asked, "What'll you have, Susanne?"

  "Thank you, but I don't drink."

  With a nod, Susie fished a bottle of Ice House beer out of the cooler, then asked, "Ed, why is it you only date teetotale
rs, but you bring them to bars? Not even a Coke for her?"

  I handed her a five and said, "Not even a Coke. Sorry. About dating teetotalers Susie; I might make an exception in your case. You still married to what's-his-face?"

  After a moment of slight startlement and a glance at Sue to see how she'd had taken my words, Susie sighed and said, "Yeah, still with him, Ed. There's just something about him, I guess. Can't seem to let go of him."

  Trying to sound disappointed, I said, "Well, damn. But I guess there must be a reason for that, huh?"

  Susanne's expression told me that our conversation had confused her slightly.

  I patted her hand and smiled as Susie nodded and said, "Yeah, guess so. Sorry, Ed. Check back later, though."

  Nodding as I sipped my beer, I said, "Will do."

  With a grin at Susanne, Susie said, "Don't pay any attention to us; we've known each other for years. Nice to meet you, Susanne. I'll call you Sue for short."

  With a sidelong look at me, she said, "Well, guess I'd better get back to work. Yell if you run dry, Ed."

  Susie had a well-practiced flounce to her walk as she headed back down the bar. I noticed Susanne watching me watch Susie walk away. Susie paused by the cash register with a mischievous grin at me. Susanne saw that, too, but said nothing and turned to me with a look of mild consternation.

  "I'm a little confused," said Sue.

  Chuckling, I said, "Thought you might be. Let's see if our reasons match. Why are you confused?"

  "You appeared to be making a pass at Susie."

  "That's the word for it. 'Appeared'. It wasn't real."

  "Then why did you do it?"

  "Compliments come in many forms and Susie likes to flirt."

  "I can see that."

  Flipping a quarter, I said, "Let's get on a pool table."

  With a raised eyebrow, Sue said, "As I told you, Ed, I won't miss."

  "Yeah, I know. So I'll break and try real hard to run 'em."

  A guy sitting by one of the pool tables saw Sue and seemed transfixed by her. As we passed his table he moved his chair for a better view. Louis somebody, if I recalled correctly; thirtyish, used to ride a Harley.

  Now he had a biker jacket and walked with some difficulty using an aluminum cane. I didn't know what happened to him; I'd met him maybe three times in the bar, but we'd never talked about much other than pool.

  He grinned and nodded toward the tables as he asked, "Hey, Ed, is she any good?"

  After considering whether his question might have dual meanings, I said, "Yeah, I think she might be. Lou, is it?"

  "Yeah." He draped himself in his chair to watch us play as I lined up a few stacks of quarters.

  I got lucky in the first game. From the break to the eight, all the shots were either easy drops or makeable without too much toil and trouble. Sue fed the table three more quarters, racked the balls, and waited patiently as I slammed the cue ball into the point ball.

  Some guy in his late twenties drifted off a barstool and stood watching my next three shots before he said, "I think you just got lucky last game."

  Stifling a snort of laughter, I said, "You have no idea."

  As I lined up on the fifteen, he asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

  The fifteen dropped.

  I lined up for the nine and said, "It means that I know I got lucky. She's doing me a favor by playing me."

  He eyed Sue, then asked, "What's that mean?" again.

  The nine fell in the corner after a long walk along the rail.

  "It means that I don't expect her to miss, so I'm making the best of things while I can."

  Plainly skeptical and more than a little impressed with Sue's looks, the guy fished in his pocket for some quarters. He slapped them down on the table and stepped back.

  "I'm up next," he said.

  "There are two other tables," I said, looking for my next shot.

  The ten was hidden behind the four. Every other possible shot sucked, too. I prepared to try a jump shot on the ten.

  "Yeah, but I wanna play on this table," said the guy. "You sure jump shots are legal?"

  "In my games they are."

  I missed and the cue ball hit the rail and rolled back to nudge the eight into the side pocket. The guy snickered and stepped up to the table.

  "Wait one," I said. Turning to Sue, I asked, "Do you want to play this guy?"

  She shrugged slightly, indicating that it didn't matter. I stepped away from the coin box.

  Turning to Sue, the guy asked, "How 'bout five a game?"

  Sue gave him a flat gaze and said, "I don't have any money."

  "He does," said the guy, deliberately not taking her hint. "Seems to me he shouldn't mind backin' you, since he thinks you're so hot."

  Giving him an absolutely even gaze, I said, "Well, I've never really seen her shoot, but she told me that she won't miss, and I believe her."

  His gaze narrowed sharply. He plainly didn't believe a word of it. Oh, well.

  He asked, "You gonna back her or not, sport?"

  Shrugging, I said, "Yeah, I guess so. Five, right?"

  "Unless you got the balls to go ten."

  Shrugging again, I said, "Well, since you felt you just had to put it that way... Don't you worry about my balls, guy; worry about her kicking your ass on the table. Ten, twenty, fifty... I don't give a damn. You pick a number."

  Susie came around the bar and padded quickly over to us.

  "Keep it down," she said, "Allen's here."

  Allen came out of the back with four cases of beer in his arms and set them down effortlessly behind the bar, then came to see what was going on.

  He stood well over six feet and seemed to have muscles on his muscles and he grinningly stopped not far behind Susie, patiently waiting for her cue to do just any little thing at all for her.

  "Don't let us see you betting on these tables," said Susie, "'Cause if we can see it, so can anybody else who might be in here. You both got that?"

  I nodded as the other guy glanced at Allen and said, "Uh, yeah."

  "And don't either of you get ugly if you lose," she added. "Allen can get uglier. I'll guarantee that."

  As Susie and Allen went back to the bar, I said, "Maybe we'd better forget the bet. I like this place."

  The guy turned to face me and grinned hard as he said, "You know, I kinda figured you'd say that, sport."

  He flicked the corner of a fifty in his shirt pocket and said, "Yeah, I just kind of knew you'd say something like that."

  Glancing at Sue, I asked, "Hey, lady, are you sure you won't miss?"

  She smilingly nodded. Louis got up and moved to a closer table as I nodded to the challenger.

  "Fifty it is, then. Sport."

  Sue broke the rack with enough backspin to return the cue to the rail, made the two on the break, and then systematically popped in all the solids and the eight in just under a minute.

  I ambled over near the guy with my hand out. He wordlessly passed me his fifty as he stared at Sue. She smiled and leaned on the table very prettily.

  "Again," he croaked. "Nobody's that good. She just got lucky as hell."

  "You just saw her be that good," I said. "Sometimes things just are as they are, y'know."

  He shook his head. "Again. The same. Fifty."

  I glanced at the bar. Yup. Susie was paying attention.

  "We're being watched," I said. "Take it easy."

  He turned on me and growled, "We go again or we go the fuck outside right now."

  When they say things like that you can pretty well bet they'll be outside later in any case. You may as well soak them while you can, then deal with their unhappiness in the parking lot when the time comes.

  Nodding, I looked at Sue and said, "He seems to have doubts, so you'll have to run 'em again, ma'am."

  With a little salute, she said, "Yes, sir, sir."

  He racked the balls and Sue ran the table again in about the same amount of time. The guy was raging quietly as he pas
sed me another fifty.

  Putting more quarters in the table, the guy jammed the coin bar hard, then rather noisily began racking the balls for another game.

  "Maybe I ought to play you this time," I said. "You'd have a better chance."

  "You just shut the fuck up and don't disappear with that money," he said. "We're goin' for a hundred this time. I'm gettin' my money back."

  "Highly doubtful," I said as he shoved the rack to the dot.

  Rounding the table quickly, he stopped within a foot of me and glaringly growled, "I told you to shut the fuck up!"

  I regarded him quietly for a moment, then said, "That kind of Wrestlemania bullshit doesn't work on me, so either play pool or get lost. You wanted another game. You've got it."

  He glowered at me for another moment before he reached for his stick and tried to lift the rack from the balls with one hand. That didn't work; he was shaking with rage and the corner balls drifted away slightly.

  Swearing, he put his stick down, straightened the balls, lifted the rack with both hands, then picked up his stick and shoved the rack into the end of the table.

  As he backed away from the table he muttered, "Bust 'em up, bitch."

  I didn't care for that comment. Apparently neither did Sue. She quickly ran the stripes and the eight, and then without comment ran the rest of the balls and stepped away from the empty table.

  Lou let out a low whistle and slowly clapped his hands a few times as he grinned at Sue and softly said, "Jesus H. Christ..!"

  Sue's opponent was livid with rage. He was apparently somewhat stunned, as well, since he made not the slightest move for several moments as he glared at Susanne.

  Very obviously glancing at the bar, I moved to stand near him and softly said, "The bet was a hundred."

  As if disbelieving his ears, he turned his head to look at me for several seconds before he very deliberately said, "Fuck you. And your hustler girlfriend, too."

  "You were told she wouldn't miss. Cough it up."

  Push and shove time. I glanced around at a small sound and saw Louis approaching, his cane in one hand and a cue stick in the other.