Bad Business

31

Hawk and Pearl were sitting on Susan's front steps when we got back from Chatham. Hawk was drinking a bottle of beer and watching the Radcliffe girls go by. Pearl was sitting beside him with her tongue out. None of us could say for sure what she was looking at. Susan and I accepted, because we were responsible parents, about ten minutes of lapping and cavorting and jumping up as Pearl welcomed us home. Hawk watched silently.

When Pearl finally settled down, Hawk said, "Got a friend owns a dog. She comes home, the dog wags its tail. She pats it on the head, and they both go 'bout their business."

"Your point?" Susan said. Hawk grinned.

"Jess a wry observation, missy."

"Well, just keep it to yourself," Susan said. "Did the Radcliffe students think my baby was adorable, when they went by?"

"Most of them," Hawk said, "looking at me."

That was probably true. There were few things less Cantabrigian than Hawk. We unloaded Susan's luggage and hauled it to her room.

"Don't seem like you been gone this long," Hawk said.

"Susan packs for all possibilities," I said.

"Like dinner with Louis the Fourteenth."

"Sure," I said. "Cocktails with God. You don't ever know."

"Readiness be all," Hawk said.

"Sho nuff," I said.

Hawk and I drank beer on the front porch while Susan sorted and hung and smoothed and fluffed and folded and caressed and put away the stuff she had packed. Then she got a glass of Riesling and joined us on the front porch.

I t wasn't really a porch made to sit on in the evening when it was hot and drink lemonade and listen to the ball game and listen to insects buzz gently outside the screen. It was more of a porch for standing on while you rang the bell. But Susan had put a couple of cute chairs out there, and there was a big railing and five stairs. Susan and I sat in the cute chairs. Hawk draped himself over the railing with his feet up. He always seemed relaxed and he always seemed comfortable.

"Drinking beer on the front porch," I said. "I really should be in my undershirt."

"The wife-beater kind," Susan said, "like a tank top."

"The wife-beater kind?" Hawk said. "Undershirt bigotry?"

"Shocking, isn't it?" Susan said.

"There's a guy I keep seeing around," I said to Hawk. "Small guy, skinny, long black hair, pale skin, little round wire-rimmed glasses."

"Bad guy?"

"Maybe," I said.

"You think he tailing you?"

"Maybe."

"Don't know him," Hawk said.

"Is that who you went back in to look for," Susan said, "at the hotel?"

"Just got a glimpse, might not even be the same guy," I said.

"Way to find out," Hawk said.

"He follows me, you follow him?" I said.

"That be one way. Or he follows you and I follow him and when we establish that he is following you, we take him by the neck and shake him a little and say who dat?"

"Who dat?" I said.

"Who dat," Hawk said, "in dere saying . . ."

Susan said, "Stop it."

Hawk grinned at her.

". . . who dat out dere," he said. Susan put her fingers in her ears. "You don't like classic ethnic humor?" Hawk said.

Susan kept her fingers in her ears and shut her eyes tight.

"You Jews are always putting us down," Hawk said. Susan smiled and opened her eyes.

"We try," Susan said. "God knows we try."

"If I could interrupt for a moment," I said. "When he starts following me again, I'll let you know."

"Usual rate?" Hawk said.

"Absolutely," I said. "In fact I'm thinking about doubling it."

"What is the usual rate?" Susan said.

"Zip," Hawk said.

Susan looked at Hawk and then at me. She drank some Riesling, and shook her head and spoke in a funny voice.

"All the biracial pairs in all the world," she said, "and I end up with you guys."

"That's the best Bogart impression I've ever heard by a woman," I said.

A man wearing a Greek fisherman's hat walked by with a mongrel dog on a leash. Pearl dashed to the fence and barked ferociously. The mongrel growled and pulled on his leash. The man looked annoyed. He glanced up at us sitting on the porch.

"Cute," Hawk said, "isn't she?"

The man stared at Hawk for a moment and then nodded enthusiastically.

"She's very cute," he said and moved his dog briskly along. Pearl glared after them, still barking, until they turned the corner. Then she padded back up onto the porch and sat and waited to be patted. Susan patted her.

"And how many women have you heard do Bogie?" Susan said.

I thought about it for a moment. "Zip," I said.

Susan stood. Pearl moved over near Hawk, who patted her.

"I think I'll get us more to drink," Susan said.

We watched her go.

"I love that woman," Hawk said.

"Me too."