Page 45 of The Woodcarver's Model
They left, closing the door behind them.
“Fuck,” Kevin said. “Did you get a look at that guy, Needy? I swear if I’d been alone with him, he would have had me in cuffs, pants around my ankles—”
“Stop!” Mitch yelled.
“Too bad about his name. I don’t think I could do someone with a name like that.”
“Will you shut up?”
“What?”
“Shut…the fuck…up!”
“Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the mood, you know.”
“The cops just barged in and accused Rob of being a murderer. I don’t think now is the time to lighten the mood.”
Mitch went to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of wine and poured himself a large glass.
“I’ll have one while you’re at it,” said Kevin.
“No. You don’t have the right to get drunk right now. I get drunk, you revel in what just happened. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Revel when things in my life go to rat shit because yours is already there.”
“Hey. There’s no reason to talk to me like that.” Kevin stood up. “I’m on your side. I warned you about Rob. I told you to watch out for him. He’s just a loser who’ll do anything for a buck. This whole thing was probably some big-ass drug deal gone wrong. I’ve seen it happen.”
“No, Rob isn’t into drugs,” Mitch protested.
“Never said he was using. He’d never wanna get down with the users. Too dirty for mister pretty-boy. He’s got more of a supplier vibe.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“Or, Christ, maybe he was over there and thought he could get himself some rich black ass and things went south.” Kevin leaned into him. “Probably…probably misread the situation, came onto this Mohamed guy who freaked out all over him and he had to kill him to get away.”
Mitch stared at the floor and said, “You really think he could have done it?”
“I’ve seen him wig out on a guy who called him a fag.”
“This is a little different, don’t you think?”
“I tell you, he’s a predator,” Kevin warned him.
“We’ll find out what’s going on when he gets back,” Mitch said, then settled into the couch and waited.
Chapter Fifteen
Rob drove home. He liked the sound of that.Home. Home is where your Mitch is. Far better than home is where you hang your hat.
Rob arrived at Francis and Frances’ ferry dock in plenty of time for the next crossing. He pulled in behind a large pickup truck. In the bed of the truck was a large steel cage containing an equally large hog. On the cage was a blue ribbon. It seemed that the pig was coming home from a fair where it had won a prize for being…well, for being a big, beautiful pig.
Rob stared at the pig, the pig stared back and it seemed to smile. Rob smiled back. The pig nodded his head up and down. Rob laughed, then nodded back to the pig.Maybe he’s happy at winning first prize.Rob’s conversation with his new porcine friend was interrupted by a startling rap on his window. It was Francis.
Rob had never spoken to the husband before. He was the silent partner in the relationship. She was the face of the operation.
“Mr Hanson,” Francis nodded. “That’ll be seventy dollars.”
“Fares go up?” Rob said, reaching for his wallet.
“Just charge what the wife tells me to,” he said, taking the money.
