line two seeking reaction to a Taliban statement condemning Buck Nance for mocking Islamic custom. Motherfuckers!
“Lane, I gotta grab this call. We’ll book you a suite at the best hotel on the island. Have a shot of tequila, take a hot shower. I’ll send money and plastic.”
“Seriously, Amp. Bring me home.”
“I
am
serious. Buck’s your ticket.”
FIVE
T he next morning they ate breakfast at a diner on Sugarloaf where Rosa broke the news. She was going to Europe for a couple of weeks—Stockholm, Düsseldorf and Oslo.
“Why Oslo?” Yancy asked.
“The rain forest, of course.”
“Be serious. It’s freezing cold there.”
“Winter, yes,” said Rosa. “But at least nobody’s getting shot.”
“Is that even true?”
“They’ve got actual laws against walking around with loaded guns on the street. Same in Sweden and Germany.”
The proprietor of the diner approached to ask if their meals were all right. Yancy had once written him up for an eggs Benedict infraction (under-refrigerated Hollandaise sauce), but overall he felt he’d been treated fairly. Yancy told him the food was excellent, and the man happily headed back to the kitchen.
To Rosa, Yancy said: “Sometimes I’m dead slow on the uptake. Are you inviting me to come along on your trip?”
“I need a break from all the blood, Andrew.”
He’d traveled a few times to the Bahamas and once long ago to Canada on a walleye expedition with his father, but he’d never been overseas. He asked Rosa when she was leaving.
“Tomorrow.”
“Aw, come on.”
“The travel agent got me a great package. I know it’s last-minute, I’m sorry.”
“But my passport—it’s expired, remember?”
“Still?” She didn’t look up from her omelet.
It was impossible to get a passport renewed in twenty-four hours. The other obstacle was Yancy’s job; during the high season Tommy Lombardo never let roach-patrol inspectors take vacations, only funeral leaves.
“The hospital’s cool with your leaving on such short notice?”
“Not at all,” Rosa said. “I resigned yesterday.”
“Boom. Okay.”
“Andrew, could you please pass the Tabasco?”
Later at his house they made love, though the moves seemed mechanical. Yancy had no intuition about the fragile arc of relationships, so he was accustomed to being blindsided. Still it always hurt. He was fairly sure that Rosa was dumping him, whether she was aware of it or not.
Obviously she’d planned her trip knowing he couldn’t accompany her. His lapsed passport was the reason they’d canceled a dive outing to Eleuthera a few weeks earlier.
She said, “I’d better go home and start packing.”
“When you get back from Europe, you should move down here and open a practice. There’s a critical shortage of sultry, multi-orgasmic doctors.”
“I bet.”
“This sucks,” Yancy said as he walked her to the car.
“It’s got absolutely nothing to do with you.”
“Gosh, I’ve never heard
that
one.”
“Be good,” she said, and kissed him.
After watching her drive away, Yancy went inside and poured a tall glass of Haitian rum. While searching for limes in the refrigerator he encountered the fish dip concealing the diamond belonging to naughty Deb. Soon the dip would go bad and he’d have to find a clever new hiding place. Another option was to quietly give it up. Pretend he’d never seen the damn ring—just toss it over the fence. Eventually Deb or one of the construction workers would find it on the scorched lot.
From his backyard deck Yancy observed activity on the property—two men conferring as they walked the property lines. The older of them wore a trucker’s cap, jeans and work boots, and he carried a set of cardboard tubes. A builder, Yancy concluded glumly. The other man appeared to be in his early forties, like Yancy. He wore tailored camel slacks and a shiny shirt undone perhaps one too many buttonholes. His face was supernaturally tan, his blowfly sunglasses
“Lane, I gotta grab this call. We’ll book you a suite at the best hotel on the island. Have a shot of tequila, take a hot shower. I’ll send money and plastic.”
“Seriously, Amp. Bring me home.”
“I
am
serious. Buck’s your ticket.”
FIVE
T he next morning they ate breakfast at a diner on Sugarloaf where Rosa broke the news. She was going to Europe for a couple of weeks—Stockholm, Düsseldorf and Oslo.
“Why Oslo?” Yancy asked.
“The rain forest, of course.”
“Be serious. It’s freezing cold there.”
“Winter, yes,” said Rosa. “But at least nobody’s getting shot.”
“Is that even true?”
“They’ve got actual laws against walking around with loaded guns on the street. Same in Sweden and Germany.”
The proprietor of the diner approached to ask if their meals were all right. Yancy had once written him up for an eggs Benedict infraction (under-refrigerated Hollandaise sauce), but overall he felt he’d been treated fairly. Yancy told him the food was excellent, and the man happily headed back to the kitchen.
To Rosa, Yancy said: “Sometimes I’m dead slow on the uptake. Are you inviting me to come along on your trip?”
“I need a break from all the blood, Andrew.”
He’d traveled a few times to the Bahamas and once long ago to Canada on a walleye expedition with his father, but he’d never been overseas. He asked Rosa when she was leaving.
“Tomorrow.”
“Aw, come on.”
“The travel agent got me a great package. I know it’s last-minute, I’m sorry.”
“But my passport—it’s expired, remember?”
“Still?” She didn’t look up from her omelet.
It was impossible to get a passport renewed in twenty-four hours. The other obstacle was Yancy’s job; during the high season Tommy Lombardo never let roach-patrol inspectors take vacations, only funeral leaves.
“The hospital’s cool with your leaving on such short notice?”
“Not at all,” Rosa said. “I resigned yesterday.”
“Boom. Okay.”
“Andrew, could you please pass the Tabasco?”
Later at his house they made love, though the moves seemed mechanical. Yancy had no intuition about the fragile arc of relationships, so he was accustomed to being blindsided. Still it always hurt. He was fairly sure that Rosa was dumping him, whether she was aware of it or not.
Obviously she’d planned her trip knowing he couldn’t accompany her. His lapsed passport was the reason they’d canceled a dive outing to Eleuthera a few weeks earlier.
She said, “I’d better go home and start packing.”
“When you get back from Europe, you should move down here and open a practice. There’s a critical shortage of sultry, multi-orgasmic doctors.”
“I bet.”
“This sucks,” Yancy said as he walked her to the car.
“It’s got absolutely nothing to do with you.”
“Gosh, I’ve never heard
that
one.”
“Be good,” she said, and kissed him.
After watching her drive away, Yancy went inside and poured a tall glass of Haitian rum. While searching for limes in the refrigerator he encountered the fish dip concealing the diamond belonging to naughty Deb. Soon the dip would go bad and he’d have to find a clever new hiding place. Another option was to quietly give it up. Pretend he’d never seen the damn ring—just toss it over the fence. Eventually Deb or one of the construction workers would find it on the scorched lot.
From his backyard deck Yancy observed activity on the property—two men conferring as they walked the property lines. The older of them wore a trucker’s cap, jeans and work boots, and he carried a set of cardboard tubes. A builder, Yancy concluded glumly. The other man appeared to be in his early forties, like Yancy. He wore tailored camel slacks and a shiny shirt undone perhaps one too many buttonholes. His face was supernaturally tan, his blowfly sunglasses
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