Chapter 7

seven

The drive back to my place was just plain wet and nasty, which is fairly typical for a rainy, late autumn evening in Seattle. Traffic was normal, which means bordering somewhere between awful and totally fucked up. I parked the truck and found the first thing going right for me today; the elevator was waiting at the garage level.

Stepping off the elevator on my floor, I heard my answering machine calling to me. Well, it was more like the machine making a noise to attract my attention, but in my imagination, I think it’s talking to me. Actually, if people knew the truth, I hate most of the new gadgets that keep coming to market, but since I have this bad habit of never checking my answering machine, this one at least prompts me when someone has called ... and I need to do something about it.

My new machine makes a tone every few seconds, and this wonderful piece of technology will keep annoying me until I listen to the messages, push a button, which turns off the noise, or throw the damn thing off the balcony. I do have a cell phone, but I tend to leave it in my truck or at the apartment and not carry it with me, which really seems to upset a lot of people.

The missed call was from Scott, calling from his cell phone. He was apologizing again because he’d dragged me into this mess. Now with Slim gone, it looked as if I owned the houseboat whether I liked it or not. He also promised me he’d secure me a slip somewhere, even if he had to go down in the middle of the night and cut some other floating home loose.

My thoughts about his offer were, “Thanks, Scott! Do that and I’ll have to come visit you every Thursday with cigarettes, and what’s even worse, you’ll end up being Bubba’s love slave at the state pen.”

From the cupboard, I fetched a glass and looked over my inventory of favorite brands of single malt. Since I had dealt with such a wonderful day, I felt I’d earned some of my rare Balvenie Double Wood 17-year-old single malt. I knew I was committing an act of sin by adding a handful of ice to the glass and then pouring in a goodly amount of Scotch over the ice, but since that’s the way I like it and I paid for it, I get to drink it however I want.

Once I had my drink I wandered out to the front room and settled back in my favorite leather chair. I enjoyed the sounds of the air whooshing out of the cushion and filling the room with the smell of the expensive leather. It’s a big old chair with a huge ottoman, and they sit in a corner of the front room facing one of the large windows, overlooking the lake and the channel in the distance. When I first entered the room, I’d started to put on some tunes, but then decided after the day I’d just been through I’d rather sit in dark silence and brood.

Once I curled up in my chair, BJ came to me and put her paws up on the ottoman, so I picked her up. She turned around once before she snuggled down in my lap, and we sat together in the chair, me petting BJ with one hand, and sipping my drink with the other.

I stared off over the lake and the canal beyond, seeing the bridges crossing over the canal as it trailed off into the distance. I wondered why anybody would be out on a night like this as I watched a pleasure boat slowly meandering up the slot, its reflected lights flickering off the water. Red lights illuminating the left side of the craft, green glimmering on the right. The lights of the craft highlighted the small waves surrounding the boat, as it splashed down the canal, and the rain falling outside seemed to fit my mood just fine.

I’d managed to keep most of the details of the morning isolated from the center of my brain during the day, but now that it was quiet, keeping those thoughts at bay became a lot more difficult. Now I allowed the flood of thoughts to cascade out and wash through my mind.