by Ellle Parker
“Seth!” I yelled. “We have three more to do, and a pile of paperwork for this. Get your ass in gear.”
Seth flipped me off. “Hey, Ernie,” he said, “have you read the Nero Wolfe books?”
“Sure,” Ernie said, nodding. “Those are pretty good reads.”
“Who is Fred Durkin?”
I steered Seth away and shoved him in the direction of the three vehicles we had left to do. Behind us, Ernie yawned and trudged into his office. He’d been dragging all morning, and I wondered what was up. Ernie is usually a pretty perky guy.
Twenty minutes was all it took for us to get done. I tucked the paperwork into my briefcase and went to tell Ernie we’d have the finished reports for him as soon as possible.
“Thanks,” he said choking back another yawn. “Sandra will have your check ready, and you can come get it anytime you want, unless you’d rather have her just mail it.”
“Great. I’ll come and get it, I don’t trust the mail at the new place yet. What’s up with you, don’t you sleep at night?”
“Nothing serious. The alarm went off in the wee hours of the morning, that’s all. It’s not a big deal, happens every couple of months, short in the system or bird hitting the window or whatever. But it’s a pain in the ass, because I have to get out of bed and come down here to meet with the police to make sure everything’s all right.”
“And was it?” I asked, because I didn’t think this was any short in the system.
Seth had just stepped in the door and gave me a dubious look.
“Yep, everything’s accounted for and nothing’s broken. You know, the only time I’ve ever actually been robbed was in broad daylight when some punk took a Firebird out for a test drive and just kept on going.”
“Yeah…” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I think this was more than a bird hitting the window. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it was that crackpot I told you about who jumped the ’Vette.”
“You think?” Ernie looked completely dumbfounded. “I suppose anything’s possible. I’m glad he didn’t tear the place up when he didn’t find the car. That was good thinking, you guys. Anyway, my buddy’s going to keep an eye on the place for a few days.”
“Good plan,” I told him. “Get some sleep tonight.”
It was time for lunch when we got out of there, so I offered to buy Seth a quick sandwich if he’d help me do the paperwork before we started cleaning the storefront.
There’s a lot of paperwork involved in doing repossessions. I don’t mind it so much. I happen to be one of those rare people who doesn’t hate paperwork with a passion. I love to sit down with a full “In” box around lunch time and end up with an empty one just in time to go out and get some dinner. Seth, however, hates paperwork and complains like a baby, so he ended up in a mood similar to mine of that morning.
Chapter 7
“That’s my foot you dropped a credenza on, motherfucker!” Seth yelled as he squeezed out from behind it, limping.
“Well, I just told you I was gonna put it down, get your damn toes out of the way!” I said.
“What the fuck is a credenza anyway?”
“It’s one of those things,” I said, wiping sweat off my brow with the back of my hand.
Mother Nature seems to have a sick sense of humor about these things, and it was at least ten degrees hotter than usual and twice as humid. Seth and I were both tired, drenched in sweat and getting pissy. We’d worked all afternoon, moving boxes and furniture, sometimes twice, until we had everything arranged in the least amount of space, but in a way you could still get to most of it. The credenza was the last thing we had to move.
Seth stripped off his shirt, scrubbed the sweat off his face and flung it across the room. “If I had any idea what a bitch of a day this was gonna be, I never would have agreed to it. I hope you know you’re gonna buy dinner and beer all night.”
“I’m doing collections for you,” I reminded him, sitting in a chair we had parked in front of the fan. “And I bought beer all last night.”
“Not enough. That is just not enough for this kind of torture. And you still owe me for helping you move too.” Danny Williams’s White on White came on the radio, and Seth made a gagging noise. “And this…” he said, heading for the radio. “You have a really twisted sense of what constitutes decent tunes, I swear to God.”
“You touch that dial and I start snappin’ fingers,” I said, pointing at him.
“Asshole.” He spun around and planted his hands on his hips, staring at me. “Now what?”
“Now we clean.” I got up, grabbed a broom out of the corner, and started to sweep the floor.
Seth took over my spot in front of the fan and bent forward to let it blow across his head. He sat up and leaned on the back of the chair, propping his head in his hand, and watched me.
After a while, he shook a finger at me and said, “You know, this is a good look for you, with the old jeans and the wife-beater and your arms all glistening with sweat, workin’ the broom. You look all tough and blue-collar.”
“Flattery will not excuse you from working. Get off your ass and grab that dustpan.”
He did, but with a lot of overblown bitching and moaning. His contribution was to sit down on the floor and hold it half-heartedly while I swept. We got the first pile of crap cleaned up and dumped in the garbage can, when Della came in carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and large glasses of ice on it. I could have kissed her.
“You boys are just working so hard in this terrible heat, I thought you could use a little refreshment.” She smiled at us and cocked her head.
Seth flopped onto his back and waved a hand in her general direction. “Look, Dino. Angels! We died of heat stroke, and angels have come to take us away.”
Della set the tray down and poured him a glass of lemonade. She knelt down to hand it to him. “Poor baby,” she said, brushing the hair out of his eyes and patting his cheek. “You look just plum tuckered out.”
“Yeah, don’t encourage him, Della,” I said, pouring myself some lemonade. I drank the whole thing in one shot and filled my glass again, while Seth pouted and held out his glass for Della to refill. It was sad, it really was, and I told him so.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said. “Who could refuse an adorable face like that?”
When she turned to pour him another glass, Seth stuck his tongue out at me, so I flipped him off.
I’ll say something for Southern hospitality, being fawned over and downing three big glasses of ice cold lemonade will do wonders for anyone’s disposition, and within a few minutes, I was feeling a hell of a lot better than I had all day. Judging from the blissed-out smile on Seth’s face as he leaned against the credenza, he was feeling better too.
Della checked out our work and was remarking on what a fine job we’d done when Dean Martin came on the radio singing Sway. She clapped a hand to her chest and sighed, looking dreamy, and I wondered what she was remembering.
Feeling inspired, I set down my glass and held a hand out to her. “May I have this dance? I know I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion, but what are you gonna do?”
Both she and Seth looked at me like I was crazy at first, but then a slow smile spread across her face and she took my hand. “Why, yes, I think I will, Dino. There’s nothing I like better than a sweaty, handsome man.”
I took her waist and led her into a swishy rumba she didn’t have the slightest difficulty keeping up with. I happen to love to dance, and Sway is one of my all time favorites. There is a moment with a dance partner, sometimes, when you both realize you know what you’re doing and you can really cut loose. When Della figured out I could actually dance, she lit right up. She was good too, and we sailed around on that old wood floor, twisting and spinning and turning. At the end of the song, I dipped her, and when she stood up, she beamed at me and clapped gleefully.
“Oh, darlin’, you are a marvelous dancer!”
Seth was staring at me in
that main course kind of way Della had when she met me, and he arched an eyebrow. “Where in the hell did you learn how to dance like that, man?”
His open appraisal of me was a little different than his usual teasing, but the tone of voice was all Seth, if maybe deeper than I was used to. I shrugged and sat down, pouring myself the last of the lemonade. “My grandma lived with us, you know, and she loved to dance. So when I got tall enough, she made me be her partner every Sunday afternoon when they did the ballroom dancing show on the radio.”
“Oh, that is so sweet,” Della said, playing with a string of pearls she wore. “You are a rare breed, Dino Martini.”
Seth chuckled. “She’s right dude, you were clearly born in the wrong era.”
I grinned at them. “What can I say? I’m a classy guy.”
After we finished cleaning up, Seth assured me he’d been completely serious when he said I was buying him dinner, and went home to shower and change clothes. We ate at an especially nice restaurant, and it was clear from Seth’s meal he’d decided money was no object. I figured I owed it to him, so I didn’t argue. He was more than paid back for his hard work.
We were both in great spirits that evening, feeling comfortably full of crab legs and sweet potato french fries, and enjoying the satisfaction of a job well done. Neither of us had any inclination to turn in early, so we decided to hit the bars again for beer and pool, ending up at one we’d never tried before.
It was a smallish place and kind of seedy, but in the way that gives a bar character. The room was long and narrow, with the bar running nearly all the way down one side of it and a row of booths and video games on the opposite wall. No pool table at this one, so we took stools at the bar.
I hailed the bartender. “Couple of Landsharks down here.”
Seth sat backward on his stool, leaning against the bar while he checked out the crowd, which was pretty healthy even for a Saturday night. He reached over to poke me in the ribs with his elbow and gave me a conspiratorial look. “So, you got something going on with Della? That was pretty hot stuff today, man.”
“Ah, no, I don’t,” I told him. “That’s just Della. You hang around enough and she’s gonna be puttin’ the moves on you too. I think she just likes the chase.”
I told him about the impromptu dinner party and everything I’d learned about the ladies. “And you know, I actually had a pretty good time. They’re a lot different when they aren’t standing on manners and they’ll act normal around you.”
“Boy, I don’t know…” Seth said with a slow shake of his head. I could tell he wanted to take my word for it, but couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that a person could have a good time with a group of old women.
The bartender delivered the beers, and I slid a ten dollar bill across to him. Seth spun around and took his, squeezing a lime into the beer and shoving the rind down the neck of the bottle. He licked his fingers off and took a drink. When he saw me watching him, he grinned and licked his lips. I rolled my eyes.
“So, I started thinking about the office after you left,” I said.
“That’s great. You’re going to be so much more fun to be around when you’re not going completely anal about the whole relocation thing. I like you better when you’re settled.”
“Ah, yeah, fuck you. Okay, I’ve got to figure out the right way to do this, because I’ve been thinkin’ it would be good to have kind of a two part office, so there’s a place I can meet with clients, but they won’t be able to see everything on my desk, you know?”
“You’re getting pretty high class on me here, I don’t know. Better be careful, Dino. Next you’ll be wanting a secretary, and then it’s gonna be all about playing slap-and-tickle at the office, and you won’t get any work done. The money stops coming in, you lose all your clients, then you wind up as a homeless wino and you die in a gutter in Poughkeepsie.” He took a swallow of beer.
I stared at him for a moment. “Right. So, anyway, here’s what I was thinking…”
I took a notepad out of my pants pocket, flipped it open to a clean page and started to sketch out what I had in mind. Seth stuffed a couple of pretzels in his mouth and looked over my arm at the paper.
That’s when all hell broke loose. One second he was watching me draw, and the next he squeaked with surprise and slammed face forward into the bar with a sickening crack. I turned to see what was going on and found Rick, the big ox from the other night, towering over us with the meanest look on his face I’ve ever seen.
“What the fuck?” I was on my feet in a flash, shoving myself between him and Seth, who slid to the floor with dazed groan. A chill raced through me when I saw that his face and the front of his shirt were covered in blood. At least he was conscious.
White hot anger seethed through me as I turned to face the huge bastard. “Rick,” I said, going ice cold, “you just made a big mistake, my friend.”
“Don’t give me that boyfriend bullshit,” he said, taking a pop at me, which I managed to duck. “You two made a fool out of me, and nobody makes a fool of me and gets away with it.”
He swung a second time, catching me square across the jaw. Then he shoved me against the bar and kicked Seth in the ribs making him cough and double over, inhaling blood from his nose and spitting it onto the floor. Without even thinking about it, I reached into the waistband of my pants and pulled out my gun, shoving it under the guy’s chin and pushing him back away from Seth. The room went silent, other than the dinging of the video games and the drone of the TV behind the bar. He was furious, and barely in check, but the gun in his face gave him enough pause for me to get the upper hand.
“You guys ain’t a couple,” he said, glaring daggers at me. “You were just shittin’ me.”
“Don’t think that doesn’t mean I won’t fucking take you apart, you son of a bitch,” I growled, advancing on him slowly. “You and me are gonna have a little talk outside, Ricky, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be able to crawl away from it.”
The bartender came rushing around the end of the bar, waving his hands. “Hey, hey, none of that shit in here. We don’t want any trouble. Why don’t you boys just calm down now and put that away?”
“We were just leaving.” I looked up at Rick and jerked my head toward the door. “You heard the man, out. Let’s go.”
Behind me, Seth was struggling to his feet. Someone handed him a napkin, which he stuffed up under his nose, groaning like he wasn’t completely with the program. I felt like I should probably help him, but there was still Rick to deal with, and my own burning need to kick the shit out of this guy. Testosterone won out, and I herded Rick toward the door before he got any ideas about taking a parting shot at Seth.
At the front door, I spun him around and held the gun to his back, shoving him down the sidewalk. “Around back, slimeball,” I said. “We’re goin’ in the alley, and I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“You’re dead, motherfucker,” he shot back over his shoulder.
“I’m what? I’m dead? Is that what you said?” I jabbed him in the back. “You just attacked a very good friend of mine, and you think I’m the one who’s gonna be dead? You are not very bright, Ricky boy.”
We got to the edge of the alley, and he stopped and turned to face me. “You’re not gonna shoot me,” he sneered, and hauled off and punched me right in the eye.
I went down, but I was able to control it so I could roll over and plant a hard kick right below his knee. He dropped to the ground swearing, and I was already on my feet in a crouch when he looked at me. I held his gaze long enough for him to see me flip the gun over in my hand, and then I smashed the butt of it into the side of his head. He bellowed like an elephant and held up his hands to try to deflect the next one, but I planted a knee on his chest and shoved them out of the way, hitting him again.
“You pissed off the wrong guy, jack!” I yelled, backhanding him with it this time.
I was going for another solid blow to the head when Seth appeared at my side,
catching my arm. “Dino,” he said. “Come on, Dino, that’s enough, man.”
Adrenaline was running high and I tried to jerk free of him, but he was prepared and wouldn’t let me. I relented and took a deep breath, eyes locked on Rick as I stood up and backed away, letting my arms go limp.
“That’s good, real good,” Seth said patting my chest. “Excuse me just a minute.”
He eyed me for a second to make sure I was going to stay put, then turned to Rick, who was on his knees and trying to pull himself up using the corner of a dumpster.
“Okay, asshole, that is the second time you’ve pinned me to a bar and I’m starting to take it personally,” Seth said, kneeling down to look at the guy, “So I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave me the fuck alone from now on, all right?” Then he punched old Rick in the gut hard enough to give him dry heaves.
We left him like that and got into my car, pulling out of the alley and turning to head for my place. Once I calmed down, my head started to throb and I could only imagine how much Seth hurt.
Seth leaned the seat back and said, “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but did we just get beat up for not being fags?”
Up in my apartment, I yanked open my kitchen cupboard, took out a bottle of whiskey and set two glasses on the counter. Seth closed the front door and wandered over while I poured a couple of shots in each one.
“Whiskey?” he asked.
“Dulls the pain, gets the taste of blood out of your mouth, and makes you feel better about the whole situation. What more could you ask?” I pushed a glass at him.
My attempt at humor fell flat because I was still pissed as hell, and it came out sounding grim and dark. I looked at Seth and winced. He was a mess. Blood stained the front of his shirt and his face, as well as his hands and arms from trying to stop the flow of his bloody nose. He had a cut on his forehead and bruises forming down the side of his cheek and jaw where he’d hit the bar the hardest. On top of all of that, he was standing in a guarded way that told me his ribs were hurting pretty bad.