Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Step One

Uncle Jim was a silhouette in headlights, shotgun on his hood, another in his hands. He held steady as we emerged. “I’ve seen prettier pimentos stuck to the sink after a two day martini bender.”

I shielded my eyes. “Good to see you, too. Could you kill the lights?”

“Depends. You both you?”

Nate looked at me like a jigsaw puzzle he thought he’d finished only to find the center missing. “As much as we can be, after that. Got whiskey?”

“Yeah, that’s you.” Jimmy shut off the lights and grabbed a bottle. “Capture the critter?”

I flinched. “Not exactly.”


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