Damaged

salesman. In fact, it took a minute or two before Scott recognized him. He certainly hadn't expected him to come walking up the beach.

Scott waved at him then felt ridiculous when he didn't receive an acknowledgment. Instead, the guy simply strolled through the crowd of bikinis and made his way to the barstool next to Scott without even a nod or glance. He was always so cool.

'What do you have for Scotch, single malt?' he asked the cute bartender, who was already in front of him by the time he settled in his seat.

'Sorry, no single malts and the best blend I've got is Johnnie Walker.'

'Blue Label?'

Scott watched the bartender smile with what looked like admiration.

'No, again, sorry. Black Label's best I can do.'

'That's perfect,' he told her, as if that was exactly what he wanted all along. Then he turned to Scott. 'Join me?'

The attention caught Scott off guard, like a spectator suddenly pulled onto the playing field. The bartender, probably thinking Scott was some total stranger, now seemed even more impressed and she was waiting for Scott's response.

'Sure. Thanks,' he managed as casually as he could.

'On the rocks for both of you?' she asked.

'Yeah, that'd be great,' Scott told her, pretending it was his preference when he couldn't remember if he'd ever had Scotch before.

'Neat, for me.'

Another smile from the bartender that almost made Scott want to change his order.

'This place was a great choice, Scott,' the Death Salesman said, and Scott immediately relaxed and felt a rush of ... what? It was silly but there really was something about this guy that made you want to please him.

That's when Scott realized he needed to calm his buzz down a notch so that he didn't slip and call him by the nickname in his head. Scott had wondered if Joe Black was his real name from the first time he introduced himself. That was, after all, the name of a movie character. This guy didn't look at all like Brad Pitt, but he certainly had that same charm and confidence. And the irony, if it was not his real name, only garnered more admiration from Scott. Joe Black, the character in the movie, was actually death masquerading as an ordinary Joe. It was probably what triggered Scott into secretly referring to him as the Death Salesman. His new friend--no, that wasn't right, they weren't friends, though Scott would like them to be--his new colleague was far from an ordinary Joe.

'Yeah, it's absolutely beautiful out here, isn't it?' Scott said. 'You'd never guess there's a hurricane on its way.'

The bartender delivered their drinks and this time she brought a complimentary bowl of nuts and pretzels. Perks seemed to gravitate to Joe Black, and Scott was happy to be along for the ride.

'Are you set up if it hits?'

'Absolutely.'

'Have extra room if I need some space for a couple of days?'

'Oh sure,' Scott told him and he sipped the Scotch, trying not to wince as it burned a path down his throat. 'One of the first things I did when I bought the place was replace the walk-in. This new one has plenty of space, extra shelves. It's top-of-the-line.'

In fact, he hadn't given a second thought to the hurricane. There had already been three this summer and none had ventured this far north into the Gulf. Scott had grown up in Michigan. Had no clue about hurricanes. Pensacola was Trish's hometown. In the two years he'd lived here he hadn't had to deal with the threat. When he bought the funeral home, he assumed it was set up for such things. He did know that there was an emergency generator, and if and when the time came he'd figure out how it worked or hire someone to do it for him.

Holmes and Meyers Funeral Home wasn't the first business Scott had run. Up in Michigan he had managed three funeral homes. Though this was the first one he owned, it wasn't any different. He was good at business, knew how to turn a profit, cut costs, and try innovative approaches to solving problems. He did what it took, like keeping the name even though no descendants of Holmes or Meyers worked at the place anymore. You couldn't put a dollar amount on the value of reputation, especially in the funeral business. Yeah, he was still a little nervous now that he was responsible for the place as well as for the huge banknote in his name. But his success was why Joe Black had chosen him and his funeral home in the first place.

'You're sticking around through the week?' Scott asked.

'I've got another conference in Destin on Monday. That's if they don't cancel because of the weather. I could use some storage space.'

'Oh sure. Bring whatever you have with you tomorrow. I'm sure I can make room. We're still on for tomorrow, right?'

'Absolutely.' He swirled the Scotch in his glass and turned to face Scott, giving him his attention. 'So, this is exciting. Your first indie.'

'Indie?'

'Indigent donor.'

'Oh, yeah.' Scott laughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He needed to figure out the lingo or he'd never be cool. 'Who knew it would be so easy.'

'Already delivered?'

'And waiting.'

'Good.'

But now Joe's eyes were tracking someone or something just over Scott's shoulder. He glanced in the direction and sighed before he could catch himself.

'What?' Joe said. 'You know her?'

The object of Joe's distraction was the only woman at a table with four men. She seemed to be the center of attention, making them laugh.

'My sister-in-law.'

'Really?'

'Forget about her, though. I don't think she plays for our team.'

Joe looked at him and raised an eyebrow but before Scott could explain, Joe's cell phone started ringing. He slipped it out of his shirt pocket, a razor-thin rectangle of silver and red that glowed pink when he opened it.

'This is Joe Black.'

Silence as Joe listened and ran an index finger over the rim of his glass. Scott caught himself watching out of the corner of his eye but he didn't want to look like he was eavesdropping. He turned his barstool around, swinging it in the direction of Liz's table. She'd never notice him anyway. No one ever did. Besides, her table was at the restaurant next door.

Another glance and Scott saw that his father-in-law was one of the four men.

Now he almost wished they did see him, drinking expensive Scotch with a classy buddy. It would certainly give both of them a new image of him. And he wouldn't mind having an excuse for introducing Joe. Maybe even having them report back to Trish about his business dealings loosening him up. Isn't that what Trish was always telling him? That he needed to get out more? Instead he kept his back to Liz and his father-in-law. He pretended to be admiring the view.

'That's pretty short notice,' Joe said into the phone. 'No, I can do it. I'm just concerned how expensive it'll be for you.'

Scott wiped off a smile before Joe could catch it. What a salesman. He was telling some customer that he was going to charge him a ton of money and made it sound like he was only concerned about the client.

'Let me see what I can do and I'll get back to you tomorrow.' No 'goodbye.' No 'thanks' or 'talk to you later.' Just a click and a flip.

'Always working,' Scott said.

'You know it,' Joe Black said. 'How about another one of these?'

He held up the glass and drained it in one gulp, not at all how Scott thought this expensive stuff should be drunk. But even as Joe called over the bartender, Scott could see him glance back over Scott's shoulder.