Liquid Smoke

THIRTY-NINE

As my plane descended half an hour late into San Diego, thick rain clouds bounced us around, and lightning was visible out the windows when we touched down.

I was walking through the terminal, getting ready for the wet sprint to my Jeep, when I felt someone fall in step next to me.

“Shitty weather we’re having, huh?” Landon Keene said, smiling.

I stopped, unable to hide my surprise.

Keene’s smile grew. “Welcome home.” He nodded toward the parking lot. “You wanna keep walking? I saw your Jeep out there.”

A subtle message that he knew what I was driving. A surge of adrenaline kicked into gear.

“Sure,” I said, trying to regain a little composure. “You can stand right behind it, and I’ll throw it in reverse.”

He laughed louder than necessary, tossing his head back like I’d told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. His laugh died off, and he shook his head. “Sounds like your pop’s been telling you some stories about me.”

He was doing a terrific job of sticking his finger on my buttons.

“What the fuck do you want?” I asked.

“Just wanted to make sure you made it home okay. That trip from San Fran can be a tricky one.” The subtlety was gone. “I made it just fine,” I said.

Keene nodded. “Good, good, my man. Hope nothing will be waiting at home for you this time.” He winked.

I stepped in closer, looking down at him. “I’m not some degenerate gambler, Keene. I will take you outside, break off each of your limbs, and set the rest of you on fire.”

Keene stepped back, not because he was intimidated but so I could see his face. “All in good time, my man.” He snapped his fingers, like he’d just remembered something. “By the way. Your mother is looking excellent these days.”

My right hand curled into a fist, and I set my feet to throw a punch. But I knew what he was doing, and I didn’t want him to win this battle. I forced my hand to unclench.

“Thanks for the update,” I said. “I’ll tell her that.”

The smile drifted off his face, and he couldn’t force the fake laugh. It looked like my refusal to engage had confused him.

An announcement came over the PA. Something about a flight delayed due to the weather. Neither of us paid attention, caught in a staring match.

“Amazing what a guy will tell someone when he’s facing the death penalty,” I said, turning the tables. Irritation flashed across Keene’s face.

“I mean, nobody wants to take their guilt to the grave,” I continued. “Have to unload things, you know? Things like gambling, smuggling. Killing.” I shrugged. “Guys even feel compelled to name names.”

It was like I had transferred my anger right into his body. The relaxed, confident demeanor he had arrived with was gone.

“Careful, kid,” he said, his voice much harder than before. “You don’t want to step into this.”

I threw my hands up like I was confused. “Step into what? I thought we were just talking.”

“Worst thing you can do is talk,” Keene said, shuffling a little closer. “You know what’s good for you, kid, you better forget you ever heard dear old dad’s voice in the pen.”

“Why’s that? Worried about something? Maybe I should ask Ben Moffitt about it.”

Keene shook his head like I was brain damaged. “Only time I’m warning you, kid. Stay out of it.”

“And if I don’t?”

He took a couple of steps away from me, heading for the exit, the smile creeping back onto his face. “Then things are gonna start blowing up in your face.”