you used to be a police officer, but you left because you were dangerous. That detective we saw, the one with the big belly—”
“Button.”
“He said he can’t count the number of people you’ve killed. He said you like killing people so much you even went off to be a mercenary, and we shouldn’t have anything to do with you.”
Her saying these things reminded Pike of his conversation with Miguel Azzara, only this conversation left him feeling open in a way he did not like. Pike had killed men. He had placed himself in situations where death was inevitable, but knew most people would not understand his motives or reasons. He rarely spoke of these things.
She said, “Is that true?”
“I used to be a police officer. I was a professional military contractor after I resigned. The part about the killing, that’s what people like Button want to believe.”
She nodded, and he wondered what she was thinking.
“Are you dangerous?”
“Mendoza thinks so.”
She smiled again.
“Is that a joke? You made a joke.”
Pike once more clocked their surroundings. He hadn’t been making a joke, but if she wanted to laugh, he was pleased.
“What Button said, does it bother you?”
“No. I like being with you. I feel safe. Is that weird?”
Pike changed the subject when her hamburger came.
“What about you? Will you go back to New Orleans?”
Dru stared at the ocean for a moment, and seemed thoughtful. She had some of the burger and sipped the beer.
“Pretty here. I’ve moved around so much since the storm, but nowhere like this. I was in Jackson, then Little Rock with my sister and her husband. My mom went to Atlanta. Everyone was everywhere—Wilson was in Houston for a while, then Dallas, then he went back to New Orleans, but, I don’t know, it was just too hard.”
She trailed off and shrugged.
“Did you go back?”
“For a while, but I had no one to go back to. I didn’t have a boyfriend, and my family was scattered. I didn’t own anything, so I left again—stayed with my mom for a while, then my sister. Then Wilson came here, and he liked it, so I thought I’d give it a try. I like it here. I’d like to stay.”
Pike enjoyed the play of thought on her face as she spoke.
The robot men called it quits. The smaller man gathered their earnings, closed the briefcase, then lined up behind the larger, both taking the same exaggerated pose. They marched away in lock-jointed unison. No one watched them go except maybe for Dru. Pike couldn’t tell if she was watching the robot men or something behind them—maybe the lowering sun.
She said, “It’s beautiful here.”
She stretched, and spread her hands to the sky, as she smiled again.
“I love the breeze we get. Everyone makes fun of the smog, but most of the time it’s clear. Don’t you love it? Don’t you love that fabulous ocean breeze?”
Pike said, “Yes.”
That’s when Pike saw a man outside the surf shop a few doors down from the restaurant. A life-sized statue of a surfer with a shark’s head stood outside the shop. The man was behind the statue. He moved when Pike turned. A small move like a buoy rocking on a wave, just enough to disappear behind the shark’s surfboard.
The man was lean, dark, and probably Latin, though Pike couldn’t see him well enough with the bad angle to tell. With the quick glimpse, Pike made the man for his early forties, with a shaved scalp and furry arms.
Dru smiled lazily.
“This is nice, being here like this.”
Pike said, “Yes.”
She couldn’t see Pike’s eyes behind the dark glasses, and didn’t know he was watching the man.
The man sauntered out from behind the statue and fell in with a group of passing tourists. He wore an unbuttoned pale orange short-sleeved shirt over a white T-shirt, dark jeans, and sunglasses. The shirt and the bald head keyed a memory, and Pike realized the man had passed them before. Pike had not seen him double back, which made Pike suspicious because Pike
“Button.”
“He said he can’t count the number of people you’ve killed. He said you like killing people so much you even went off to be a mercenary, and we shouldn’t have anything to do with you.”
Her saying these things reminded Pike of his conversation with Miguel Azzara, only this conversation left him feeling open in a way he did not like. Pike had killed men. He had placed himself in situations where death was inevitable, but knew most people would not understand his motives or reasons. He rarely spoke of these things.
She said, “Is that true?”
“I used to be a police officer. I was a professional military contractor after I resigned. The part about the killing, that’s what people like Button want to believe.”
She nodded, and he wondered what she was thinking.
“Are you dangerous?”
“Mendoza thinks so.”
She smiled again.
“Is that a joke? You made a joke.”
Pike once more clocked their surroundings. He hadn’t been making a joke, but if she wanted to laugh, he was pleased.
“What Button said, does it bother you?”
“No. I like being with you. I feel safe. Is that weird?”
Pike changed the subject when her hamburger came.
“What about you? Will you go back to New Orleans?”
Dru stared at the ocean for a moment, and seemed thoughtful. She had some of the burger and sipped the beer.
“Pretty here. I’ve moved around so much since the storm, but nowhere like this. I was in Jackson, then Little Rock with my sister and her husband. My mom went to Atlanta. Everyone was everywhere—Wilson was in Houston for a while, then Dallas, then he went back to New Orleans, but, I don’t know, it was just too hard.”
She trailed off and shrugged.
“Did you go back?”
“For a while, but I had no one to go back to. I didn’t have a boyfriend, and my family was scattered. I didn’t own anything, so I left again—stayed with my mom for a while, then my sister. Then Wilson came here, and he liked it, so I thought I’d give it a try. I like it here. I’d like to stay.”
Pike enjoyed the play of thought on her face as she spoke.
The robot men called it quits. The smaller man gathered their earnings, closed the briefcase, then lined up behind the larger, both taking the same exaggerated pose. They marched away in lock-jointed unison. No one watched them go except maybe for Dru. Pike couldn’t tell if she was watching the robot men or something behind them—maybe the lowering sun.
She said, “It’s beautiful here.”
She stretched, and spread her hands to the sky, as she smiled again.
“I love the breeze we get. Everyone makes fun of the smog, but most of the time it’s clear. Don’t you love it? Don’t you love that fabulous ocean breeze?”
Pike said, “Yes.”
That’s when Pike saw a man outside the surf shop a few doors down from the restaurant. A life-sized statue of a surfer with a shark’s head stood outside the shop. The man was behind the statue. He moved when Pike turned. A small move like a buoy rocking on a wave, just enough to disappear behind the shark’s surfboard.
The man was lean, dark, and probably Latin, though Pike couldn’t see him well enough with the bad angle to tell. With the quick glimpse, Pike made the man for his early forties, with a shaved scalp and furry arms.
Dru smiled lazily.
“This is nice, being here like this.”
Pike said, “Yes.”
She couldn’t see Pike’s eyes behind the dark glasses, and didn’t know he was watching the man.
The man sauntered out from behind the statue and fell in with a group of passing tourists. He wore an unbuttoned pale orange short-sleeved shirt over a white T-shirt, dark jeans, and sunglasses. The shirt and the bald head keyed a memory, and Pike realized the man had passed them before. Pike had not seen him double back, which made Pike suspicious because Pike
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