five years ago. After falling in love with a massage therapist named Xela and following her to Vegas, he’d opened a process server business, Boss Services, Inc., with the motto When You Want It Done Right, Leave It With the Boss.
He probably would have returned to Brooklyn after the breakup with Xela, but by then Boss Services, Inc. was thriving, and Li’l Bit had grown attached to the aging dogs at the canine retirement ranch project where he volunteered.
“I got your back, my brother,” Li’l Bit said, pulling away, his eyes filling with tears. “Wanna beer?”
Minutes later, the brew had chilled Drake’s mood. Not completely, but enough that Aerosmith’s rocking, rolling and screaming was starting to sound good.
“Man,” his pal murmured, dragging his hand over his puffed-out curly hair, “Yuri is one sick dude. Arson investigators on it?”
“One was at the scene.” Drake took another swig. “Name’s Tony Cordova.”
“But you didn’t give Yuri up.”
“He’s mine.”
“Aqua Man,” Li’l Bit muttered, “taking on the Russian Mafia solo…” He gave his head a slow shake, as though the thought was too heavy to contemplate.
“I’m not taking on the army, just one soldier.”
“This Tony dude could help you.”
Drake took a swig of beer. Tony had already left a message, but he hadn’t wanted to talk to him yet.
For the next few moments, as they listened to Aerosmith crooning about getting a thrill from the smell of a girl’s hair, Drake flashed on Val at Dino’s. Those big brown eyes. Her soapy, fresh scent. How the heat of her body fused with the heat of the night.
He imagined peeling off those little triangles of fabric, exposing her full, ripe breasts. Unzipping that red miniskirt and pulling it down, down, over her shapely legs, and helping her step out of it in those sky-high heels. He smiled, remembering her beloved Saints’ emblem, the fleur-de-lis, on the shoes.
She loved that team so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had a tat of a fleur-de-lis. On her lower back? Thigh? Nestled somewhere between those pale, plump breasts?
“…she’d eat him alive, man.”
Took Drake a moment to reel his thoughts to the present. “Huh?”
Li’l Bit picked up a bag of Cheetos and tilted it toward Drake, who waved it off. “Hearsay can’t stay at your mom’s. That Maxine, she’s one badass feline she-hulk.” He popped a Cheeto into his mouth.
Maxine, a crossed-eyed Siamese cat, thought she was put on this earth to dominate it. Li’l Bit had been with him on a day when Drake had dropped by his mom’s with Hearsay. The plan had been to keep Maxine sequestered in the spare bedroom, but his grandmother accidentally opened the door, and like a deranged, heat-seeking missile with fur, Maxine found and cornered Hearsay within seconds. Poor dog shook for a solid hour after that encounter.
“My landlord’s cool with pets, so I can keep Hearsay here,” his pal offered, helping himself to another Cheeto. “Plus he can do my rounds with me at the canine retirement ranch. Those old dudes love youngsters’ company.”
“I don’t want him turning into a stoner.”
“For you, my brother, I’ll only toke in the bathroom, with the fan on. Hearsay won’t even get a whiff of secondhand smoke.”
“Good. Mind if I stay, too?”
“Thought you’d crash at your mom and Glenda’s.”
Glenda, his grandmother, and Li’l Bit were a mutual admiration society ever since the Hearsay-Maxine encounter. Li’l Bit had stood between the cat and dog while Glenda maneuvered her wheelchair to the kitchen, returning with salmon, Maxine’s favorite. While she distracted the cat, he got Hearsay to safety.
Since then, the two of them got together for occasional evenings of Inner Sanctum Mysteries on old Lux Radio recordings. While Glenda puffed her nightly cigarillo and sipped a martini, Li’l Bit drank beer. He said he didn’t smoke weed during those visits, but knowing Glenda, she
He probably would have returned to Brooklyn after the breakup with Xela, but by then Boss Services, Inc. was thriving, and Li’l Bit had grown attached to the aging dogs at the canine retirement ranch project where he volunteered.
“I got your back, my brother,” Li’l Bit said, pulling away, his eyes filling with tears. “Wanna beer?”
Minutes later, the brew had chilled Drake’s mood. Not completely, but enough that Aerosmith’s rocking, rolling and screaming was starting to sound good.
“Man,” his pal murmured, dragging his hand over his puffed-out curly hair, “Yuri is one sick dude. Arson investigators on it?”
“One was at the scene.” Drake took another swig. “Name’s Tony Cordova.”
“But you didn’t give Yuri up.”
“He’s mine.”
“Aqua Man,” Li’l Bit muttered, “taking on the Russian Mafia solo…” He gave his head a slow shake, as though the thought was too heavy to contemplate.
“I’m not taking on the army, just one soldier.”
“This Tony dude could help you.”
Drake took a swig of beer. Tony had already left a message, but he hadn’t wanted to talk to him yet.
For the next few moments, as they listened to Aerosmith crooning about getting a thrill from the smell of a girl’s hair, Drake flashed on Val at Dino’s. Those big brown eyes. Her soapy, fresh scent. How the heat of her body fused with the heat of the night.
He imagined peeling off those little triangles of fabric, exposing her full, ripe breasts. Unzipping that red miniskirt and pulling it down, down, over her shapely legs, and helping her step out of it in those sky-high heels. He smiled, remembering her beloved Saints’ emblem, the fleur-de-lis, on the shoes.
She loved that team so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had a tat of a fleur-de-lis. On her lower back? Thigh? Nestled somewhere between those pale, plump breasts?
“…she’d eat him alive, man.”
Took Drake a moment to reel his thoughts to the present. “Huh?”
Li’l Bit picked up a bag of Cheetos and tilted it toward Drake, who waved it off. “Hearsay can’t stay at your mom’s. That Maxine, she’s one badass feline she-hulk.” He popped a Cheeto into his mouth.
Maxine, a crossed-eyed Siamese cat, thought she was put on this earth to dominate it. Li’l Bit had been with him on a day when Drake had dropped by his mom’s with Hearsay. The plan had been to keep Maxine sequestered in the spare bedroom, but his grandmother accidentally opened the door, and like a deranged, heat-seeking missile with fur, Maxine found and cornered Hearsay within seconds. Poor dog shook for a solid hour after that encounter.
“My landlord’s cool with pets, so I can keep Hearsay here,” his pal offered, helping himself to another Cheeto. “Plus he can do my rounds with me at the canine retirement ranch. Those old dudes love youngsters’ company.”
“I don’t want him turning into a stoner.”
“For you, my brother, I’ll only toke in the bathroom, with the fan on. Hearsay won’t even get a whiff of secondhand smoke.”
“Good. Mind if I stay, too?”
“Thought you’d crash at your mom and Glenda’s.”
Glenda, his grandmother, and Li’l Bit were a mutual admiration society ever since the Hearsay-Maxine encounter. Li’l Bit had stood between the cat and dog while Glenda maneuvered her wheelchair to the kitchen, returning with salmon, Maxine’s favorite. While she distracted the cat, he got Hearsay to safety.
Since then, the two of them got together for occasional evenings of Inner Sanctum Mysteries on old Lux Radio recordings. While Glenda puffed her nightly cigarillo and sipped a martini, Li’l Bit drank beer. He said he didn’t smoke weed during those visits, but knowing Glenda, she
Similar Books
