The Kings Of Cool

255

“Surprised to see me?” Chon asks.

“I thought you were in Iraq. Someplace like that.” John turns and walks into the step-down living room, walks behind the bar, and starts to make himself a drink. “You want something?”

Chon doesn’t.

“A joint?” John asks. “You want to smoke up?”

“Keep your hands above the bar.”

“You don’t trust your old man?”

“No,” Chon says. “You taught me that, remember? ‘Never trust anybody’?”

“And I was right.”

John takes a sip of his drink and sits heavily on the sofa. First time Chon notices that he has a gut.

“Sit down.”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He leans back into the cushions. “Who gave me up? Crowe?”

He looks almost amused.

“Crowe and Hennessy are both dead.”

“You did us a favor,” John says. “They had to go, anyway.”

“I thought you were out of the business.”

“And I didn’t know you were in it,” John says. He holds a hand up. “Swear to God, son. But I guess the apple don’t fall far from the tree, huh? Though I guess you’re some kind of war hero? Is that true?”

“No.”

John shrugs. “So what brings you here?”

“Believe me, I didn’t want to come here.”

“But here you are.”