Fox Island by Stephen Bly

it
back?”
    “Look. On the auxiliary file. Isn’t that the
backup document?”
    “What’s it doing over there?”
    “Nothing. I can’t bring it up.”
    “What?”
    “I’ve got it listed, but it won’t come up on
screen. Maybe you can print it out.”
    “Great, just great! I’ll have to punch it
all back in again.”
    “Why don’t you call tech support?”
    “Oh, sure, and get stuck on hold for
hours?”
    “What choices do you have?”
    “Yo, Dudes! Can you lead me to Melody?”
    Tony and Price spun around. A huge man with
shaggy, full, tightly curling black beard, wild flying hair, and a
black leather jacket flung across one shoulder bulged through the
sliding glass door. “I’m lookin’ for my woman. Does my Melody Tunes
still shack up here?”
    “You mean, Melody Mason?” Price eyed the
man’s massive arms.
    “Yeah. Where is she?”
    “We’re renting her house for the
season.”
    “Now, ain’t that a bummer? Where did that
little spitfire move to?”
    “Why don’t you leave your name and number?
We’ll have her call you when she gets back,” Tony offered.
    “So, she does live here?”
    “In the garage apartment, but she’s gone for
the day.”
    “Cool. I’ll wait.” The man lumbered across
the living room and plunked deep into the sofa. “You got anything
to eat?”
    Price and Tony looked at each other.
    “Look, mister,” Tony began.
    “Everyone calls me Stud.”
    “If you want to wait for Melody, that’s up
to you. But she might be gone quite a while. And we’ve got work to
do, so you aren’t waiting for her in our living room. You can park
yourself out on the road by the driveway, or you can give us your
phone number and I’ll have her call you.”
    His burly face cowered like a massive
wounded dog as he pulled himself off the couch. “Talk about lacking
the gift of hospitality.” He rolled to his full six-foot-six frame
and stumped toward Tony who backed onto the deck and against the
railing. The man stopped midstride. “I think I’ll cruise around the
Island. Is Melody Tunes still driving that green VW bus?”
    “Eh, yes.”
    “If I miss her, tell her I was looking for
her.” He glanced down at the laptop and peered closer. “Looks like
your Toshiba Turbo 75 is locked up.”
    “Well ... yes. Something like that.”
    He held down two buttons with his left hand
and punched two others with his right. “Hey, there you go. Chapter
four.”
    Price and Tony gawked in amazement.
    “How did you do that?” Tony sputtered.
    “Fifteen years with Microsoft taught me a
little bit. Retired on my thirty-fifth birthday. Shoot, how much
money does any one human need?”
    Price studied the screen. “What did you
do?”
    “Nothin’ to it. Here, I’ll show you.” He
took Price’s left hand in his and placed her fingers on the
keyboard. Then he reached around her shoulder with his right hand
and placed those on the laptop, still holding both hands. He caged
her like a helpless puppy in one smooth movement.
    “You can show me.” Tony yanked the man away
from Price. “It’s my computer. I really ought to be the one who
learns.”
    “My, he’s a bit insecure, isn’t he?” the big
man roared. “That’s what you get for marrying such a foxy younger
woman.” He backed away from Price, gave her a wink, led Tony
through the steps, then turned to the house.
    “You’re leaving now?” Tony asked.
    “Yep, just need to pick up my helmet. Tell
Melody Tunes I’ll catch her later. Say, did she ever tell you about
the time we took my Harley to Alaska?”
    “Eh, no, she didn’t.”
    “Well, come to think about it, maybe it
wasn’t her. Don’t tell her I said that.”
    “We won’t.” As soon as the man was safely
out in the carport, Tony added, “Thanks a lot for the computer
help.”
    He nodded. “Is Captain Renfold still at the
Acoustic Lab?”
    “We haven’t met anyone down there yet.”
    “Think I’ll go swap lies with the navy. I
built ’em a system once and