I told him about the encounter up island and the subsequent conversation.
“And you believe him?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But I can’t see the harm. I don’t have to tell him anything I don’t want to.”
He just walked away, shrugging his meaty shoulders.
“Come to dinner with us,” I called to him. “At the Pequot. Seven-thirty. You and Honest Boy can catch up on old times.”
I think I heard him say something like, “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see,” but I wasn’t sure. Though I felt a gentle stir in the vibe currents left in his wake, telling me to secure a big enough table for the three of us and the inevitable incursions of the proprietor and his idiosyncratic daughter.
I killed the rest of the day in my shop trying to stay ahead of the projects I’d promised Frank, and had to hustle over to Sag Harbor so I wouldn’t be late to meet Ackerman for dinner. I was afraid to leave him alone with the regular Pequot clientele without an introduction.
The parking lot was full of pickups and ragged Japanese compacts, but no black SUVs. I let Eddie clear the lot of invisible antagonists, then lead the way into the restaurant. While he hit up the usual suckers for clams and French fries I grabbed a table next to the kitchen. Save Hodges a few steps.
“Did you know they flavor this stuff now? Lemon, orange, raspberry,” said Dorothy as she dropped my Absolut in front of me. “The salesman just talked my father into buying a case of each.”
“I thought you had a shotgun behind the bar.”
“That’s for mortal threats.”
“Exactly.”
I told her to bring an extra menu for a guy recently canned from the security department at my old company. She stood there waiting for me to flesh out the story, but after thinking about it, I didn’t know how.
“It’s involved,” I told her.
“It always is,” she said, taking a final half-hearted wipe at the table and going back behind the bar.
Eddie greeted Honest Boy at the door, delighted with a newfound relationship: “Cool, this guy is, like, everywhere!”
For his part, Honest Boy looked somewhere between repelled and vaguely alarmed. The Pequot often had that effect on people. Once they got to know the place, the repulsion wore off.
“I didn’t know they let dogs into restaurants,” he said as he pulled up a chair.
“Eddie rejects those artificial social barriers.”
“I thought it was the health department,” he said, looking around the joint.
“You’ll have to take that up with them.”
“Judson said you had mental problems,” said Honest Boy, half to himself, then realizing what he’d said, quickly added, “Not that I think that.”
Dorothy arrived in time to hear.
“I don’t believe you,” she said to him.
“He has to tell the truth. His name’s Honest Boy.”
Dorothy looked impressed, not an easy thing to achieve.
“Get out of here.”
“That’s the handle. Honestly,” he said, for the fourteen millionth time. She reached out to shake. He looked at her hand, taken aback by the fingerless glove that went up well past her elbow. Then he took it, tentatively.
“Glad to meet you, Honest Boy. I’m Dissembling Dorothy. Not officially. What’re you drinking?”
“She’s the official bartender,” I said.
“Any imported beers?”
Dorothy continued to look at him like he hadn’t said anything. He looked to me for help.
“From as far away as Wisconsin,” I told him.
“Sounds just right,” he said, smiling at Dorothy’s back as she strode through the double doors into the kitchen, black leotard–covered hips in full swing.
“Unusual girl,” he said.
“I think she likes you.”
“That’d be a first.”
“Keep your insecurities to yourself. She’ll smell it on you like a dog smells fear.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to imagine you ran Technical Services and Support from almost nothing to, what, a billion dollar enterprise?” said Honest Boy, eager to change the subject.
“A billion point two,” I said.
“Not that I’m criticizing. I’ve spent a lot of time with the big dicks that run Con Globe. Bunch of uptight, self- serving, humorless pricks.”
“Pricks or dicks. You have to make up your mind.”
“It’s no wonder they’re afraid of you.”
I laughed at him. It surprised both of us. I don’t laugh a lot. Not built for it.
“As the fox fears the rabbit,” I said.
He smiled broadly.
“Right. Like I said, it’s no wonder they’re afraid of you. Crazy like a fox.”
Dorothy showed up with a mug and a can of Budweiser, which she poured for Honest Boy, something I’d never seen her do before. He thanked her warmly. Before things got out of hand, Eddie intervened, whining for French fries and his regular bowl of water.
“Okay, handsome, keep your fur on,” she said to him.
“What kind of dog is this, again?” Honest Boy asked, scratching Eddie’s head.
“A Zen retriever,” said Dorothy. “Knows where the stick is going before you throw it.”
“Make a good bird dog,” said Honest Boy.
“Not if you ask the birds,” she said. “You want anything to eat? We got imported burgers and local fish. With imported tartar sauce and imported French fries.”
“
“You people obviously know what works here and what doesn’t,” he said. “You decide.”
“He wants the fish,” I said to Dorothy. She nodded, of a mind.
“I’ll take a burger,” I called to her as she headed back to the kitchen. The front door opened loudly enough to cause Honest Boy to turn around and look. A half dozen smelly crew off one of the sportfishing boats crowded through the narrow entrance, leading with their beer bellies, coats open and baseball hats turned to the back, proud of their hard-won, rugged ignorance.
No one else in the place took much notice, but I caught Honest Boy tapping his chest under his left arm.
When Dorothy came out of the kitchen they started to chant “Dot-ty, Dot-ty!” and only stopped when she told them to shut the hell up, which they did, immediately. Though not soon enough to evade the notice of Paul Hodges, who followed his daughter out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his off-white apron, his eyes bristling with irritation.
“Goddammit, Pierre, I told you,” he yelled at the lead meatball, “you’re allowed to be drunk when you leave. Not when you come in.” Pierre looked sheepish.
“We’re not drunk, Mr. Hodges,” he said. “Jez happy from the catch today. She’z big, like the customer tips.”
Hodges looked over at me.
“I’m not responsible for every Canuck who comes into the place,” I said to him as I slid my chair around the table and grabbed Honest Boy by the throat, reaching my other hand into his sport jacket and plucking a little snub-nose out of its shoulder holster. I slid it into my jeans pocket.
“Hey.”
“House rules,” I said. “I’ll give it back when we leave.”
The boat crew settled down after Dorothy passed out drinks and took orders. Eddie sat next to their table trying to get in on the action, but she shooed him back over to us.
“Judson didn’t tell you anything, did he?” asked Honest Boy, when things finally settled down.
