Out of Nowhere (The Immortal Vagabond Healer Book 1) by Patrick LeClerc Page A
Authors: Patrick LeClerc
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I saw a brief, dreamy expression cross her features as she, no doubt, pictured an unshaven version of Joe with terminal bed head, dressed mostly in tattoos, guitar slung low across his hips. She made several attempts to speak, but finally shrugged. ‘Fair enough. I can’t explain that to a guy.’
‘Exactly. Now, to reassure you as to the salvageable nature of mankind, it is a mark of maturity when a man realizes that complexity and dimension are good things in a woman and stops chasing bimbos. Much the same as when kids grow up and start preferring aged sirloin to a McDonald’s hamburger.’
She shook her head, but her smile remained. ‘So you can compare women to pets and food? Any other insights?’
‘I could do cars or sports teams right off the bat,’ I offered. ‘Or with some work I could hammer out a flower analogy.’
‘I think I’ll pass.’ She gave me that combination of a little sigh, sad headshake and indulgent smile that meant she found me at least slightly more amusing than frustrating, like a kitten who playfully drags all the toilet paper off the roll.
Chapter 12
WE MADE IT BACK TO THE BASE and had a chance to warm up dinner. I took my Tupperware plate of leftover pasta and walked into the day room. As usual, the TV was on and the stylish faux leather couches were covered by recumbent paramedics.
Looking for a seat, I noticed Pete sprawled across the slashed upholstery, his FirstLine Ambulance cap over his eyes. I walked over and kicked the couch near his unzipped boots. ‘Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. I need a spot to sit.’
He opened his eyes, gave a slow smile and swung his legs out of my way, leisurely sitting up. ‘No problem, man. I’m getting bed sores here anyway.’
‘You slacking off and letting us do all your calls?’ I asked. ‘Nique and I have been out all day saving lives and making a difference and you tell me you’ve been here checking your eyelids for pinholes?’
‘Don’t try to bullshit me. I work in the same town you do. You been pulling drunks out of snowbanks.’ He smiled lazily. ‘Besides, I got no partner. Big Juan is on his way in.’
‘What happened to Spaz McGee?’
‘He accidentally slammed his hand in the door of the medication closet,’ Pete replied. ‘That was shortly after, but in no way related to his insistence on running up the stairs to treat the suicidal male rather than wait for PD.’
‘How did the guy plan to off himself?’ I asked around a mouthful of pasta.
‘Well, he didn’t have a gun or a knife, which is too bad, really, since it might have helped us solve our partner issues on a long-term basis,’ said Pete. ‘I think he was threatening to jump from the Singing Bridge.’
‘Into the Merrimack?’ I asked. ‘Was he planning to poison himself?’
He shrugged. ‘Anyway, no cops in sight, the sister meets us at the truck, bawling in Spanglish about how he’s gonna kill himself. So Sparky grabs the jump kit and makes for the stairs like he’s Johnny Gage.’ He shook his head.
‘So the sister didn’t even say whether or not he had a gun or knife and Spaz wants to charge in?’ Custer or Lord Cardigan would have thought twice about partnering with Jim Burton. He was the kind of man best used to find landmines and snipers.
‘I swear it wouldn’t have mattered if she said the guy had a hand grenade,’ Pete replied.
‘It would just excite him,’ Nique added. ‘He doesn’t have the brains to be scared.’
‘You scare the shit out of him,’ said Pete.
She shrugged in regal dismissal, as though it was obvious that even someone as clueless as Jim Burton would recognize that she was not to be trifled with.
‘So what did you do?’ I asked.
‘I just advocated caution in my own polite way,’ said Pete. ‘You know how polite I am.’
He reached over and plucked a piece of chicken from my bowl, popped it into his mouth and smiled, then wiped his fingers on
I saw a brief, dreamy expression cross her features as she, no doubt, pictured an unshaven version of Joe with terminal bed head, dressed mostly in tattoos, guitar slung low across his hips. She made several attempts to speak, but finally shrugged. ‘Fair enough. I can’t explain that to a guy.’
‘Exactly. Now, to reassure you as to the salvageable nature of mankind, it is a mark of maturity when a man realizes that complexity and dimension are good things in a woman and stops chasing bimbos. Much the same as when kids grow up and start preferring aged sirloin to a McDonald’s hamburger.’
She shook her head, but her smile remained. ‘So you can compare women to pets and food? Any other insights?’
‘I could do cars or sports teams right off the bat,’ I offered. ‘Or with some work I could hammer out a flower analogy.’
‘I think I’ll pass.’ She gave me that combination of a little sigh, sad headshake and indulgent smile that meant she found me at least slightly more amusing than frustrating, like a kitten who playfully drags all the toilet paper off the roll.
Chapter 12
WE MADE IT BACK TO THE BASE and had a chance to warm up dinner. I took my Tupperware plate of leftover pasta and walked into the day room. As usual, the TV was on and the stylish faux leather couches were covered by recumbent paramedics.
Looking for a seat, I noticed Pete sprawled across the slashed upholstery, his FirstLine Ambulance cap over his eyes. I walked over and kicked the couch near his unzipped boots. ‘Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. I need a spot to sit.’
He opened his eyes, gave a slow smile and swung his legs out of my way, leisurely sitting up. ‘No problem, man. I’m getting bed sores here anyway.’
‘You slacking off and letting us do all your calls?’ I asked. ‘Nique and I have been out all day saving lives and making a difference and you tell me you’ve been here checking your eyelids for pinholes?’
‘Don’t try to bullshit me. I work in the same town you do. You been pulling drunks out of snowbanks.’ He smiled lazily. ‘Besides, I got no partner. Big Juan is on his way in.’
‘What happened to Spaz McGee?’
‘He accidentally slammed his hand in the door of the medication closet,’ Pete replied. ‘That was shortly after, but in no way related to his insistence on running up the stairs to treat the suicidal male rather than wait for PD.’
‘How did the guy plan to off himself?’ I asked around a mouthful of pasta.
‘Well, he didn’t have a gun or a knife, which is too bad, really, since it might have helped us solve our partner issues on a long-term basis,’ said Pete. ‘I think he was threatening to jump from the Singing Bridge.’
‘Into the Merrimack?’ I asked. ‘Was he planning to poison himself?’
He shrugged. ‘Anyway, no cops in sight, the sister meets us at the truck, bawling in Spanglish about how he’s gonna kill himself. So Sparky grabs the jump kit and makes for the stairs like he’s Johnny Gage.’ He shook his head.
‘So the sister didn’t even say whether or not he had a gun or knife and Spaz wants to charge in?’ Custer or Lord Cardigan would have thought twice about partnering with Jim Burton. He was the kind of man best used to find landmines and snipers.
‘I swear it wouldn’t have mattered if she said the guy had a hand grenade,’ Pete replied.
‘It would just excite him,’ Nique added. ‘He doesn’t have the brains to be scared.’
‘You scare the shit out of him,’ said Pete.
She shrugged in regal dismissal, as though it was obvious that even someone as clueless as Jim Burton would recognize that she was not to be trifled with.
‘So what did you do?’ I asked.
‘I just advocated caution in my own polite way,’ said Pete. ‘You know how polite I am.’
He reached over and plucked a piece of chicken from my bowl, popped it into his mouth and smiled, then wiped his fingers on
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