‘Thanks,’ said Halo, but ignored it. ‘Then he goes, “Stay out of other people’s business” – and then the sonofabitch pulls all the tacos out of the bags and, like, stomps them into the ground!’
Tom couldn’t help grinning. Halo seemed more upset about the food than his bloodied nose.
‘Was there just one?’
‘One was enough.’
‘Then he hit you?’
Halo’s eyes flickered sideways. ‘Good as!’
Tom raised an eyebrow, and if Halo could have blushed, he would have.
‘He drove off. I slipped on a burrito and cracked my nose on the side-view mirror as I went down.’
Tom grinned – although he stopped fast and sucked in air when he found he’d almost split his lip again.
‘Not fucking funny. I cracked the mirror. That’s seventy bucks they’ll rip me off for that! Just cos you got a classic car, folks think you’re made of money. Nearly ripped my goddamn nose off too!’
‘So what the hell d’you come and see me for? I thought some guy had beaten the crap out of you!’
Halo looked defensive. ‘He almost did! And what he said, “other people’s business” – he must’ve meant the Pride of Maine.’
Tom grunted disparagingly. ‘Get real. He’s probably some guy who’s got his eye on Vee now that your smoking buddy’s gone. What did he look like?
‘Big. White. Bald. Nice eyes.’
‘Good sense of humour?’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Anyway – who’d be interested in the plane?’
‘Maybe someone trying to keep from paying up on Chris’s insurance or something.’
‘You been talking about it to people?’ asked Tom.
‘Only to you and Vee.’
‘What did she say?’
‘I didn’t ask her. I didn’t go back in. I just came straight here.’
‘Nice job. Lead the bad guys right to me.’
Halo looked alarmed and apologetic but Tom gave a little shake of his head to show he was kidding.
‘You mean Vee and her kid are still at home waiting on their tacos?’
Halo shrugged, embarrassed. Tom sighed. ‘You want to call her?’
Halo hesitated. ‘Can I?’
Tom handed him the phone. He watched while Halo dialled the number.
‘You want to eat?
‘Eat what?’
‘Pasta.’
‘What kind of pasta?’
‘The kind I’m making.’
‘Yeah, okay.’
Halo talked quietly on the phone to Vee while Tom made pasta. It was all he was really good at. Well, adequate. It was hard to go wrong with pasta – although not impossible, in his experience.
Halo got off the phone and came to lean against the kitchen door. ‘Told her I got in an accident. A small one. Thought it’d cover the nose and the mirror.’
Tom handed him a bowl of pasta and a fork, then stretched out on the couch with his bowl on his chest.
Halo took the easy chair next to the TV and looked around at the sparsely furnished condo. One couch, one chair, a TV on a crate, a stereo with cables trailing across the floor. Not even a coffee-table or rug. ‘You get robbed?’
Tom gave him a puzzled look and Halo waved his pasta-filled fork briefly at the furnishings. ‘Empty.’
It was empty. Ella had sent for her stuff and Tom had been surprised to find that he was left with pretty much just what he’d moved in with two years before. He’d thought he’d been making progress but it had turned out that Ella had been progressing just fine without any help from him. ‘I like it like this,’ he said. ‘Don’t bleed on my chair.’
Halo touched his nose but the bleeding had stopped. ‘So what happened to you?’
‘Some angry loser at the Honolulu.’
‘Just random?’
Tom sucked spaghetti into his mouth and shot Halo an impatient glance. ‘Nah. All the time he was hitting me he kept yelling, “Pride of Maine! Pride of Maine!”’
Halo eyed his food for a moment. ‘You think I’m paranoid.’
Tom’s silence spoke louder than words.
Halo sighed, and gestured at Tom’s face. ‘How does the other guy look?’
Tom prodded his pasta and gave a mean little smile. ‘Sincerely regretful.’
11
PAM MASHAMAETE CALLED two days later. Just hearing her voice put Tom in that hot, dusty place with ostriches flapping, or whatever ostriches did. He didn’t want to ask Pam what her surroundings were really like: he enjoyed the image in his head too much.
