Fur Ball Fever

Chapter 15

The following afternoon, Nick found himself pounding along the beach, shoulder-to-shoulder with Sam, who looked decidedly rough around the edges. Sweat poured down his brother's tortured face. The fancy surfer-boy hairdo whipped in the wind, mousse-free for once. Yeah, this would be fun.

Nick pumped his legs harder, until houses backing the beach became a multicolored blur. A sideways glance confirmed his running partner's misery. Sam was about to experience the effects of a shiftless lifestyle on manly endurance. Ten-to-one his macho pride wouldn't let him back out, while his bone-deep laziness would ensure an entertaining athletic performance.

Sam must have read Nick's mind because he slanted him a glare. His face was turning an interesting shade of purple. Between puffs, he gasped, "You're a cold-blooded sadist, dragging me out of a nice comfy bed." After another ten steps, he wheezed, "If you see an angry man waving a gun, I'd surely appreciate some advance notice so's I can take evasive action. That way, I can cheer him on as he slaughters you the way you so richly deserve."

Nick allowed his gaze to scan the empty sand ahead. There was no cover for a would-be assassin, and the houses were too far back. Although he hoped the shooting was an isolated incident, he'd strapped on his Glock as a precautionary measure. He focused on keeping his breathing deep and rhythmic and said, "You weren't home when I got up this morning. Rough night on the town?"

"The only thing wrong with me is lack of sleep, thanks to you." By now, Sam was puffing as hard as a Bavarian tuba player. "I didn't drink more than a couple of beers. A man ... wheeze ... needs to keep his wits about him ... gasp ...in casinos."

"Goddamn it, I should have known better than to lend you money." To teach Sam a lesson, he poured on the speed. The sound of labored breathing behind him was music to his ears. After letting a suitably painful length of time elapse, he said, "I hope you phoned our granddaddy."

Sam slogged on in silence.

"Tell me you remembered to call Granddaddy Hiram this morning."

More silence.

Nick wheeled around to find Sam bent at the waist gasping for air, his hands propped on his thighs. Gritting his teeth, Nick jogged back. He stood over Sam and yelled, "You forgot, didn't you? Be honest for once."

"I had ... gasp ... stuff on my mind."

"Of course you did. Like sleeping off a night on the town." On a surge of anger, Nick vented his frustration. "I give you one simple thing to do," he yelled, "and look what happens. If you don't mend your ways, you'll end up down and out, wishing you'd made better decisions."

Sam caught his breath in whooping gasps. When he recovered, he said, "If you ask me, I made some pretty damn brilliant decisions last night." He dug into his pocket and came up with a wad of cash. "Twenty-three grand, and some change," he announced, peeling off three twenties. "Here's your money, with a little something thrown in. Let's call it interest." He slapped the bills into Nick's hand.

"Aw, shit," Nick said. "You're frittering your life away. Have you considered doing something meaningful?" He seized the moment, and continued his lecture full throttle, that is until he noticed Sam had stopped listening, and was tossing sticks into the ocean.

Nick stopped in mid-sentence. "Did you hear a single word I said?"

Sam shrugged. "I surely did. And while you were blabbing, I was turning the matter over in my mind. So I'm thinking, why not find a way to utilize my unique strengths?"

"Womanizing, gambling, and drinking? Is there a legal way to do that?"

Sam gave him a put-upon look. "I'm going to use those gambling skills to buy me a nightclub."

The throbbing started in Nick's frontal lobe and spread rapidly. "That's ridiculous. You don't have pot to piss in, never mind buy a nightclub. They cost millions."

"Twenty-three grand's a good start."

"Sooner or later you'll lose. You always do."

Sam tapped his head twice then mimed dealing a round of cards, presumably a reminder of his photographic memory. "I'm getting lots of practice. Pretty soon, I'll be invincible."

Nick rubbed his pounding temple with two fingers. "Forget nightclubs. Forget gambling. Forget goddamn get-rich-quick schemes." A cell phone materialized from his pocket without conscious effort. He shoved it into Sam's hand. "Call Granddaddy Hiram like you promised. Get him off my back."

Curbing the impulse to maim, throttle, and disfigure, Nick watched like a hawk as Sam punched in the phone number. Then the asshole had to gall to turn his back and walk away. Someone must have answered, because Sam started yakking. The waves drowned out any hope of overhearing the conversation, but loud guffaws of laughter accompanied by dramatic arm sweeps punctuated the animated chit-chat.

"Hey, Nick," Sam yelled over the sucking sound of waves. "Granddaddy Hiram says to tell you he's going to take a weed-whacker to Oliver's nuts before finishing the little fucker off in one of the most painful ways known to man or beast."

Although Nick had heard it all before, the news didn't help improve his temper or his headache. He motioned to Sam to speed things up.

While Sam worked his magic on their granddaddy, Nick blocked out his brother's hyena bray, and passed the time by strategizing his infiltration of Kinki that evening.

At long last Sam closed the phone and sauntered back. He announced, "I have some good news and some bad news." Sparks of glee shot from yellowish eyes.

A trickle of unease made its way down Nick's spine. "Give me the good news first."

"The chick who answered the phone at Granddaddy's place, she must be a student helper, agreed to have dinner with me when I get back." At Nick's inarticulate growl, he hastened to add, "And I bought you more time to nail Oliver, exactly like you asked."

Nick's tense muscles relaxed. "That is good news." He studied Sam's evil grin with growing certainty he wouldn't like the rest. "Okay, suppose you tell me the bad news."

"I was only able to wrangle six days before Granddaddy Hiram lands on your doorstep."

"That's not nearly long enough," Nick snapped. "Call him back."

"Oops. Didn't I mention? He's already bought his ticket. His flight arrives bright and early next Saturday. I said I'd pick him up at the airport."