“Beeker here.”
“Yo, Beeker! It’s me … Chocolate Harry.”
Leaning against the bar’s back wall next to the public pay phone, Harry grinned as if the butler were standing in front of him instead of on the other end of the line.
“Hello, C.H. Sorry, but Captain Jester isn’t in at the moment. If you’ll just hold on, I’ll have Mother patch you through to him.”
“Whoa! Hold on there, hoss! I was callin’ for you, not the cap’n.”
The big man shot a glance around the bar to be sure no one was in hearing range, but the place was empty except for one couple sharing a late sandwich and beers.
“I see. Well then, what can I do for you, Harry?”
“I hear tell how you’ve been makin’ a play for the Ice Bitch and thought I’d give you a call with a friendly warning. That’s a real Stone Fox you’re messin’ with, bwana. Now, don’t get me wrong … you’re one hell of a man, but that gal will eat you alive, manners and all.”
There was a slight pause on the other end of the line.
“Are you, by any chance, referring to Ms. Laverna?”
“That’s the one.”
“Well then, I appreciate your concern and advice, Harry, but the truth of the matter is that Laverna and I are getting along rather well. In fact, I find her one of the warmest, kindest people I’ve met for some time.”
“No foolin’?” The ex-biker was genuinely impressed. “Beeker, either we’re talkin’ about different women, or I’d be greatly obliged if you’d give me a few pointers on technique sometime over a few brews.”
“I’d be glad to,” the butler’s voice came back. “But I’m not sure how much help I can be. I’ve never really considered my conduct with women as being `technique.’ In fact, I make a point of being myself rather than trying to impress them, and the response has been favorable, for the most part.”