of almonds.
Mr. Big Ten Four waggled Jaime's gun.
– And they're lurking.
Harris nodded.
– Looks like you ain't got your shit together at all here. Looks like you're trying desperate measures with some kind of ambush.
I pointed at Jaime.
– He wasn't lurking. He wasn't setting up an ambush. He was staying out of the fucking way. I told him to wait out there so he wouldn't screw things up.
Jamie punched me in the shoulder.
– Fuck you say.
Harris shrugged.
– Just had your boy out there hangin’ about with a piece on him?
I pushed off the floor, trying not to put too much weight on the leg he'd kicked.
– Listen, man, you were saddled with this piece of deadweight as an associate, would you want him anywhere near the room where business was being attended to?
Jaime got himself up.
– Fuck you talking about,
I looked at him, looked back at Harris.
– You know I had to explain to him how you guys were nicking him on the ten percent thing? Seriously. I had to tell him it was happening, and then I had to do the math for him.
– Fuck you, asshole, that's bullshit. He's lying.
Harris rubbed his knuckles across the line of his jaw and covered the bit of a smile that crossed his mouth.
– Yeah. That started more as a joke. Bet my nephew that jackass wouldn't know he was bein’ taken'. Mostly in the way of fun, you understand. Didn't really expect him not to know his numbers.
Jaime raised his arms over his head.
– I knew that! I knew it was a bet! I was, man, I was playing you guys! Man, like, thinking,
I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and shook my head.
– This is what I'm talking about. Who wants this around when you're trying to get things done? I figured having him outside and otherwise occupied was the way to go.
Harris nodded.
– Yeah, I can see that.
Jamie slapped the air.
– Hell with you! Hell with you!
Then Mr. Big Ten Four butted in.
– Harris.
– Yeah?
– Why's the pecker need a gun he's just supposed to be out of the way? How ‘bout that, Mr. Smartypants?
I let the Mr. Smartypants comment slide. A major achievement for me.
– It's not loaded.
Everyone looked at the gun.
I shrugged.
– Check it, man. It's not loaded.
Mr. Big Ten Four popped the clip loose, like a man used to doing such things, and showed us all the absence of ammunition.
Everyone looked at me.
– Hey, who wants a mental defective like this to have a loaded weapon? I just let him hold it ‘cause I know it would shut him up.
It wasn't that hard for Harris and Mr. Big Ten Four to get Jaime off me, and they didn't hurt him doing it, but I wouldn't have felt all that bad if they had.
– Asshole! You are such an asshole!
Harris shoved him down into the space between the wall and the bed.
– Just sit your ass there and shut the hell up, jackass. Fact is, you're lucky to have this guy lookin’ out that you don't bite off more than you can chew. But you keep openin’ your mouth to take a bite and I'm gonna smash all your teeth out. You hear me?
Jaime gave me a stare.
– Yeah, I hear you.
– Good.
Harris turned to me.
– So. Just remains a large detail to be settled.
He came over, close by.
– Like where's my can?
I shook my head.
– I don't have it.
Mr. Big Ten Four took off his hat and slapped his thigh.
– Cocksucker!
Harris pointed at something behind me.
– See what's over there?
I took a look and saw the room phone.
– Yeah. I see it.
– Want to tell me a little more?
I nodded.
– Yes, I do.
I took the envelope from the back of my jeans, unzipped it and pulled out the papers.
– It is signed sealed and delivered and waiting for someone to pick it up.
He took the papers from me, looked them over, spoke as he did so.
– A man of less faith than my own might suspect this was a setup.
He looked up from the papers.
– Any reason you didn't just bring the almonds right here?
– Other than we weren't able to get a truck and a driver? No.
– Could have hired a driver. They're all over the damn place here.
I looked at Jaime.
– Thanks again, rocket scientist.
He balled his fists, but broke with tradition and kept his mouth shut.
I looked back at Harris.
– This is what happens when you depend on the weak-minded for professional counsel.
– Sure, but what say you go out to one of the bars around here, hire yourself some out of work and in-need long-hauler, and go fetch that can for me? Just drive out there and hitch up and bring it back.
I rubbed my forehead.
– Man, I, man, just, OK, look, look, I would not know where to begin with that shit. I mean, this?
I held my arms out.
– Guns? Assholes like Jaime there? Guys like you two? Kidnappings? Things like what went down with Talbot in my kitchen? That's all well outside my experience. I'm not the kind of guy walks into a trucker bar and hires a driver to take a load of hot almonds off a dock.
– Seems you're improvising pretty well so far.
I clapped my hands three times.
– Well, thanks! I appreciate the vote of confidence. And I'm not saying I couldn't manage, I'm just saying that
