Flesh And Blood by Jonathan Kellerman

“Money,” I said.

“Eau de cash,” he assented. “Does it every time.”

“So old Tony’s on Viagra,” I said. “That a fact?”

“I don’t know if it’s a fact, man, but that’s what you hear. Look, the dude’s got to be what—seventy, eighty, a hundred fifty? My dad used to buy his magazine. Hell, maybe the lead in his pencil still is righteous— he’s got a young wife, I seen her, she comes in once in a while to the Dollar for breakfast—used to, when there was a Dollar.” He cupped his handssix inches from his chest. “Rack on her. Never looked happy, but I heard she popped a coupla kids for Old Tony.”

“What was she unhappy about?”

“Who knows? The dudes who used to work the parking lot said she’d style up in this very cool Expedition—black with gray trim on the bottom, big tires, righteous running boards, chrome wheels—always open her own door before they could reach her, then act pissed that they hadn’t gotten there in time. Always in a big hurry. The parking dudes used to joke about that—she had to rush because the old guy needed her home by the time the Viagra kicked in. ‘Cause that’s the way that stuff works, you know? You drop a pill, wait for the old pecker to salute the flag, but you only got so much time to pour the pork before it’s back staring at your shoes.” He lowered his hand in a long, slow flutter. “Maybe that’s how the Viagra thing started—’cause she was always in a hurry. Anyway, money don’t buy everything, right? Give me my sand, a few waves, and I’m styling.”

He pinched his Adam’s apple and touched the canker sore briefly. I looked for a surfboard, didn’t see one.

“You ride, huh? “I said.

“When I can.”

“No shape today.”

He laughed hard. “Never any shape, here. You don’t surf Paradise, man. This is work. That’s my office.” Pointing to the rental shack.

“Thought everything was closed.”

“Hey, they pay me to show up, I show up.” He swung the key ring in a wobbly arc.

“You open for any business at all?” I said.

“I wouldn’t snorkel out there, man. Too much silt, and a sky like this is gonna reduce your visibility to zippo.”

“I was thinking a kayak.”

The crooked white nose lowered as he gave me a long, appraising look. “You don’t know squat about waves, but you don’t have that tourist smell about you either.”

“Tourist from L.A.,” I said. “I used to live in Malibu. Out past Leo Carrillo. Came back for old times’ sake.”

“OverbyElPescador?”

“Past El Pescador. Over the county line, near Neptune’s Net.”

“Livingston Beach,” he said. “Cool riding zone—prime shape—you ever try to surf?”

“Did some boogie boarding,” I said.

“I graduated that when I was in third grade, man. Moved right on to the heavy stuff. I was a hotdogger back in high school—got three minutes of footage in Water Demons II. Then my ears went—chronic infections, the doctor said no more. I said screw the doctor, but now my head hurts all the time no matter how much Advil I drop, so I hold down the rides to once a week. You serious about a kayak?”

“Sure, why not?”

He looked me up and down again. “Guess no reason. It’s cold out there, but it’s glass, except for the rips. Which way you gonna go?”

“South.” I smiled. “Maybe catch a look at old Tony’s place.”

He laughed. “Figures. But don’t get your hopes high.”

He led me toward the rental shack, said, “It’s a pretty easy day for paddling, but going south you are gonna be pushing against the currents. You look like you got the shoulders to handle it, but just know that, okay? We’re not talking Lake Arrowhead. Also, there is some riptides along the way—small ones, but they’ll bump the boat, so don’t be looking for tits and ass and start getting pushed out further than you wanna be.”

“Thanks for the advice. How much is the rental?”

“Hold on,” he said. “Another thing: No matter how glassy it looks and how good a rower you think you are, your clothes are gonna get soaked. I tell people all the time but they never listen and sure enough they come back with their clothes all stuck to them, pissed off. Only way to stay dry is use a wet suit, man. I can rent you that too.”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *