Callahan's Place 09 - Callahan's Con (v5.0) by Spider Robinson Page B

much trouble frivolously: she’s running some kind of scam on Little Nuts, and it already looks like a pip.   Whatever it is, back her play…or at least try not to screw it up—
    —poker face poker face poker—
    —Could Little Nuts possibly notice a resemblance between this Erin and the thirteen-year-old he glanced at   here in this compound yesterday?   If not, how much danger is there that he’ll think of it a little later on?—
    —Don’t be silly, Jake.   It took you a while to spot her, and you’re her father.   Body language says it was the same for Zoey.   And the two of you know about and believe in the existence of time travel.   It’s about as likely that Little Nuts will sequence her DNA—
    —God, the years between thirteen and twenty-one change so much about a girl!   Height…voice…posture…demeanor… attitude…self image…facial structure…walk—
    —chest size—
    —pokerfacepokerfacepokerfacepokerfacepo—
    — Look at that face! My heart sings to behold it.   That face says plain as print that she is a strong, confident, kind, and happy young woman.   She looks as if she has had, if such a thing is even remotely possible, a great childhood and an endurable adolescence. She looks like I couldn’t have been such a rotten parent after all.   From the grip of Zoey’s hand on my shoulder I know she is as pleased as I—
    —Damn it, what the hell is that tall tower of testosterone doing back here a day earlier than he said?   I’m not ready for him yet!   I intended to spend the rest of today and tonight devising a Special Plan in consultation with all my friends, especially Willard and Maureen.   Right now, I got nothing—
    —This certainly is a tilted picnic—
    —What am I gonna do?—
    — Stall .
     
    “So what can we do for you?” I asked him after the above extremely busy second.
    He didn’t even need a second to choose his answer.   “Money,” he said, and held out an upturned palm much like a snow shovel.
    Shit.   “Uh…like I said, I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow.”
    In response he merely pursed his lips, as if to say, yeah, life sucks sometimes.
    “So I didn’t get to the bank today.   But tomorrow—”
    “Ya partner get back yet?”
    For an instant the question baffled me.   Zoey was standing there right beside me, big as life.   Then I realized that in Little Nuts’s universe, “partner” and “woman” simply did not go together.   I started to explain…and then thought, well, I don’t really have any particular reason to lie to him, but why do I need a reason?   “Uh, no, actually.   My partner’s been held up.”
    As surreptitiously as possible, Zoey stepped on my foot.   I find pressure situations an excellent time to make bad puns; my beloved holds a differing view.
    “So it’s up to you then,” he said.   He was still holding out that big snow shovel hand.   I had not seen a snow shovel since I’d left Long Island to come down to the Keys.
    “Well…I can write you a check, if you give me a name to make it out to.”
    He just snorted.
    To negotiate with an Italian you need both hands for gesturing.   I used them to emphasize a shrug.   “Then I can’t come up with anything like the amount you mentioned yesterday.   Not until the bank opens again tomorrow.”
    Little Nuts slowly lowered his hand until it was at his side again.   “I unnastan.   Any new business relationship, there’s gonna be little kinks startin up.   I gotta make allowances.   Like ya said, you got the day wrong, so it ain’t all your fault.   And you ain’t gimme no attitude yet.”   He sighed.   “So here’s what we do.   You empty the register, plus gimme everything you got on ya, plus your ATM card and PIN code, plus tell me you’re really sorry an’   promise not ta fuck up no more.   Then I break a coupla unimportant fingers an go away, an we put the whole thing behind us.   You can make up the shortage