Jack, behind the wheel, puffed on his little cigar and goosed the gas so he almost hit a Toyota that was halfway through a left turn. He said, “What’s Doc’s angle, Early? He has to know I’m here. Got to know first chance I get, I’m going to even the score.”
Early peeked through his fingers. “I don’t know what they’re up to, Jack. Like I told you, Speed rents the house, then these two show up. I drive by, I see their Mercedes sitting in the driveway pretty as you please. Doesn’t make sense to me.”
Jack agreed. “And you actually saw Doc? You’re sure it was him?”
Early nodded. “I parked down a way, sneaked back on foot. Got up close enough to see Doc sitting in the kitchen, drinking a beer, eating a big bag of potato chips, sour cream and chives.”
“We wait long enough, he’ll have a heart attack. The man always was stuffing his face with junk.”
Though Jack himself was carrying a few extra pounds, it was what he called good weight. Made of the finest ingredients, gumbo and crawfish étoufée and lamb stew, he ordered the baby lamb direct from a grower in Marin County. He had a man in southern California who air-shipped his restaurant produce, the best grown on God’s green earth, from the Chino Farm twice a week. Jack himself was a most extraordinary cook.
Early said, “Well, you can’t say that about the woman. Doc’s partner’s a runner. Up and down the hills. Wears those little shorts.”
“Interesting.” Jack blew a smoke ring. “And cards are her speciality?”
“She’s a righteous player. Wouldn’t even have to cheat to make a decent living on poker tournaments. Except she likes to cheat.”
“Well, you know, lots of them do.” Jack grinned. And then the grin faded, and he said, “You know, what bothers me is Doc’s not stupid like Speed. Mean as a five-foot rattlesnake with a six-foot poker up his butt, but clever.”
And that was as far as he went. Jack never mentioned the animals. Never said a word about Lush Life or Yeats or Maude. He blew another smoke ring. “Do you think it’s possible, Early, this has anything to do with Joey the Horse? Maybe Joey’s decided he wants to muscle me out up here now that things are going so well, sent Doc to do the job.”
Early shook his head. “Joey loves you, boss. That’s why he told you to come up here, because he couldn’t bear to kill you. So why would he change his mind now? Besides, you think Joey’d pick those two?”
“Nawh. If Joey were in the same room with Doc and Speed, he’d step on them like they were water bugs. He wouldn’t send those bums to do me. The man has more respect than that. Besides, you’re right, he loves me too much.”
Early glanced over at Jack. The big man’s mouth was turned down at the corners, like he tasted something rotten. Early really liked Jack. Actually, he’d grown to love the man. Which meant he liked to see him happy. “So, what do you think, Jack, you want me to shoot ’em?”
At that Jack Graham wheeled the big heavy car right off the road into the parking lot of a Kentucky Fried Chicken, cutting in front of a pickup truck that squealed and fishtailed, but stopped, the driver inside glad he’d listened to his wife and had that 500-dollar brake job.
“What do you mean, shoot ’em?” Jack looked like he was going to blow up, like he might explode all over the inside of the Rolls.
Early was confused. Wasn’t he a bodyguard, for chrissakes? Wasn’t that what Jack had been talking about for months, doing Speed and Doc?
Though to tell you the truth, at first Early didn’t think he wanted to. He was nervous about it, lay awake nights thinking how that would be. He knew it’d be nothing like that time he’d got real thirsty after a track kitchen meal of white bread and chicken wings, swaggered in the front door of the liquor store with his finger poked in his jacket pocket like it was a gun, and said Gimme y’all’s cash and a six-pack of Bud. The liquor
Early peeked through his fingers. “I don’t know what they’re up to, Jack. Like I told you, Speed rents the house, then these two show up. I drive by, I see their Mercedes sitting in the driveway pretty as you please. Doesn’t make sense to me.”
Jack agreed. “And you actually saw Doc? You’re sure it was him?”
Early nodded. “I parked down a way, sneaked back on foot. Got up close enough to see Doc sitting in the kitchen, drinking a beer, eating a big bag of potato chips, sour cream and chives.”
“We wait long enough, he’ll have a heart attack. The man always was stuffing his face with junk.”
Though Jack himself was carrying a few extra pounds, it was what he called good weight. Made of the finest ingredients, gumbo and crawfish étoufée and lamb stew, he ordered the baby lamb direct from a grower in Marin County. He had a man in southern California who air-shipped his restaurant produce, the best grown on God’s green earth, from the Chino Farm twice a week. Jack himself was a most extraordinary cook.
Early said, “Well, you can’t say that about the woman. Doc’s partner’s a runner. Up and down the hills. Wears those little shorts.”
“Interesting.” Jack blew a smoke ring. “And cards are her speciality?”
“She’s a righteous player. Wouldn’t even have to cheat to make a decent living on poker tournaments. Except she likes to cheat.”
“Well, you know, lots of them do.” Jack grinned. And then the grin faded, and he said, “You know, what bothers me is Doc’s not stupid like Speed. Mean as a five-foot rattlesnake with a six-foot poker up his butt, but clever.”
And that was as far as he went. Jack never mentioned the animals. Never said a word about Lush Life or Yeats or Maude. He blew another smoke ring. “Do you think it’s possible, Early, this has anything to do with Joey the Horse? Maybe Joey’s decided he wants to muscle me out up here now that things are going so well, sent Doc to do the job.”
Early shook his head. “Joey loves you, boss. That’s why he told you to come up here, because he couldn’t bear to kill you. So why would he change his mind now? Besides, you think Joey’d pick those two?”
“Nawh. If Joey were in the same room with Doc and Speed, he’d step on them like they were water bugs. He wouldn’t send those bums to do me. The man has more respect than that. Besides, you’re right, he loves me too much.”
Early glanced over at Jack. The big man’s mouth was turned down at the corners, like he tasted something rotten. Early really liked Jack. Actually, he’d grown to love the man. Which meant he liked to see him happy. “So, what do you think, Jack, you want me to shoot ’em?”
At that Jack Graham wheeled the big heavy car right off the road into the parking lot of a Kentucky Fried Chicken, cutting in front of a pickup truck that squealed and fishtailed, but stopped, the driver inside glad he’d listened to his wife and had that 500-dollar brake job.
“What do you mean, shoot ’em?” Jack looked like he was going to blow up, like he might explode all over the inside of the Rolls.
Early was confused. Wasn’t he a bodyguard, for chrissakes? Wasn’t that what Jack had been talking about for months, doing Speed and Doc?
Though to tell you the truth, at first Early didn’t think he wanted to. He was nervous about it, lay awake nights thinking how that would be. He knew it’d be nothing like that time he’d got real thirsty after a track kitchen meal of white bread and chicken wings, swaggered in the front door of the liquor store with his finger poked in his jacket pocket like it was a gun, and said Gimme y’all’s cash and a six-pack of Bud. The liquor
Similar Books
