Potshot

Chapter 36

THE HOUSE WAS on the east edge of town, with a good view out the back windows of the Sawtooths to the east. It was a big sprawling place with a wide front porch. Bernard J. Fortunato was on the front porch when we pulled up. He was wearing a redchecked shirt and blue jeans and a cowboy hat and boots. A blue bandanna was knotted around his throat.

Who the fuck is that," Vinnie said, "Roy Rogers?"

"It's that tough little dude from Vegas," Hawk said.

"Bernard J. Fortunato," I said. "We're all gathering. It'll be like The Big Chill."

"Just like," Hawk said.

"About time you got here," Bernard said. "I been cooling my heels in this burg for a couple days now."

"Been shopping some," Hawk said.

"Yeah. Hawk, how ya doing. Good to see ya again."

I introduced Vinnie, who already had the rear lid of the Explorer open and was starting to unload. And we carried everything into the house. It was sort of shabby inside, but big. Six bedrooms and two baths upstairs, and a big study downstairs that would convert to a bedroom. There was also a living room, a dining room, a large kitchen, another full bath, and central air.

"Furnished," Bernard said. "Six bills a month, large."

"Six grand a month?" I said. "We better clean this up quick."

"Hey that's with the furniture, all the pots and pans, all we got to do is pay the fucking utilities."

"Anybody else show up yet?" I said.

"The hard case from Atlanta pulled in yesterday," Bernard said. "Where do you find these guys?"

"I pick them up at Tony Robbins Seminars," I said.

"Where's Sapp?"

"Out running," Bernard said.

"It's a hundred and ten thousand fucking degrees," Vinnie said.

Bernard shrugged.

"What have we got for bedrooms?" I said.

"Sapp's upstairs, front," Bernard said. "I took the couch in the den. I'm compact, and I don't sleep much anyway."

"Compact," Hawk said.

We took our luggage, left the other gear on the floor in the living room, and located ourselves in bedrooms. I took a front bedroom where you could overlook the town. There was a double bed with maple headboard and footboard and fluted posts with wooden flames at the top at each corner, a maple dresser and a disreputable looking gray-and-black steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. The windows had shades, but no curtains. Normally when I travel, I don't unpack, but I was going to be here a bit, so I put my stuff in the maple bureau, and went back downstairs. Bernard, Tedy Sapp, Hawk and Vinnie were sitting on the wide porch in the cooling evening, having a drink.

"You want something?" Bernard said.

He had set up a little drink table on the porch, with ice in a bucket. I made myself a Scotch and soda and sat down.

"I guess you've all met."

"We have," Sapp said. "Two more coming?"

"Yeah, driving over from L.A."

"Desert cools off good in the dark doesn't it," Sapp said. "Georgia it's hot all night."

"Hope the a/c keep pumping," Hawk said.

"It don't I can fix it," Vinnie said.

"You know how to fix air-conditioners?" Hawk said.

"Anything," Vinnie said. "Cars, machine guns, phones, TVs. I can fix shit."

We all looked at Vinnie as if he had just come out of the closet. He shrugged. We drank our drinks and sat quietly. The desert air was clear and the stars were bigger than I was used to. A night bird kept chirping something that sounded like "tuck-a-hoo."

I felt like singing "Home on the Range."

"You hungry?" Sapp asked.

"The drive out was a movable feast," I said. "Why would we be hungry?"

"I made a meatloaf," Sapp said, "and there's some beans."

"Well aren't you the homebody," Hawk said.

"Yeah. Bernie hated my pink apron," Sapp said. "Straight guys are so fucking straight."

"Bernard," Fortunato said.

"There's biscuits, too," Sapp said.