Part 42 (1/2)
Jiff sat slumped. ”Yeah, that old whack job was gettin' too kinky even for me.”
”I'll bet the poor old guy is heartbroke. He'll probably jump out his window.”
”Hope not.” Jiff paused. ”He'd crack the street wide-open.”
Both men honked laughter.
”Or maybe you're just gettin' too old yourself,” Buster kept it up, ”and don't want to admit it.”
Jiff glared abruptly. ”Hey. Jiff Butler will never be too old to hustle. Fellas'll be paying for my hard p.e.c.k.e.rwood till I'm ninety.”
”Yeah? What are you now? Thirty-eight?”
”Thirty-two, b.i.t.c.h.”
Buster wheezed. ”If you're thirty-two, George Clooney's a Republican.”
On the TV, Jiff spied the opening of Savannah Sammy's Sa.s.sy Smokehouse. ”You ain't gonna believe this, Buster, but that guy just checked in, right after Justin Collier checked out. kind'a weird, you ask me.”
”Two Food Network guys in the same day, huh? That is weird. But the weirder part is him being in here the other day.” Buster leaned over, grinning. ”You turn a trick with him?”
”Naw-”
”s.e.xiest man on the channel they've been saying all day.”
Jiff shrugged, then remembered with some shame what he'd almost done last night during the storm. Jesus...
He could only hope the house would settle down for a while now. ”He's straight, believe me. Got the hots for Dominique Cusher.”
”The Christian chick?”
Jiff nodded. ”Straight folks are ALL f.u.c.ked up, ain't they?”
”Tell me about it.”
When Jiff signaled for another beer, Buster frowned. ”You got money, Jiff? You're not going to stiff me like the other day.”
Jiff pretended to look offended, and pulled out the fifty-dollar bill that Justin Collier had given him. ”Just pull me another cold one...f.a.ggot.”
”You got it...fairy.”
Both men laughed.
Jiff felt better into the second beer.
”Wouldn't mind going a round with that one,” Buster said, gesturing the screen.
Savannah Sammy was basting some ribs.
”He's older than he looks, probably had a facelift,” Jiff speculated. ”And his teeth are white as wall paint. Probably got hisself one'a them fancy California bleach jobs. Don't like all that fake stuff...unless the money's right.”
Both men laughed.
Jiff looked down at the fifty he'd put on the bar. Something seemed to be under it.
Oh, them check things, he remembered. He'd pulled them out of his pocket along with the fifty.
”What's that?” Buster inquired.
Jiff showed him one. ”Old paychecks from the original Gast Railroad.”
”From the Civil War?”
Jiff nodded.
”Yeah, d.a.m.n, look at this.” Buster examined one. ”This one's from 1862.”
”I found 'em in Mr. Collier's room.”
”Why would they be there?”
”He probably found 'em in an old bookcase or desk. These things are all over my ma's inn.” He took the check back and looked at it, bored.
But the beer was going down but good. Jiff had a feeling he'd be hanging around for a while.
He was about to put the old checks back in his pocket when he happened to notice that one of them, though signed at the bottom, hadn't been dated or filled out at all.
III.
When Collier walked into Cusher's at just before noon, there was only one seat available at the bar. Employees whisked back and forth as the lunch rush commenced.
Dominique came over, still looking a bit abraded from last night.
”Not even noon yet and the bar's totally full,” Collier commented.
She leaned over the bar on her elbows. ”I know. It's never this full so early.”
”Well, I told you so.”
”Told me what?”
Collier c.o.c.ked a brow. ”Braless Dominique equals full bar.”
”Get out of here.” She lowered her voice. ”Did you get my underwear?”
Collier calculated the question. If I'm going to get involved with a girl who's celibate then I at least deserve a perk or two. ”d.a.m.n, sorry,” he lied. ”I forgot.” He discreetly eyed the shadows of her nipples beneath the blouse. ”My fault. Look, I'll buy you some new underwear.”