He turned a page.

– Has it ever occurred to you, mothers son that you are, to mind your own business?

I snapped a stalactite of wax from the edge of the table.

– L.L.

– Web.

– I dont want you to die.

He pressed the back of his hand to the corner of his mouth and closed his book.

– Im choked up, filled with emotion. Imagine, my son not wanting me to die. How many fathers can say the same?

– Shut the fuck up, Dad.

He turned his head, looked at me through the candlelight, and waited.

I threw the spear of wax over the rail.

– I dont want you to die. I dont mean just that I dont actively wish that you would die, I mean that I dont want you to die at all. I dont want you to trip and fall over that rail one night and break your neck. I dont want you to pass out on your back and vomit and choke to death. I dont want one of these candles to tip into a puddle of 101 and ignite a copy of Madame Bovary and incinerate you.

He touched his throat.

– I loathe Bovary. Wouldnt be caught dead with a copy in the house.

I stretched my arm and slapped the side of his head.

He looked at me through skewed glasses.

– You have my attention.

I stood up.

– Youre a fucker, L.L. The champion fucker of the world. Im never gonna take the crown from you. I concede, you have the throne all to yourself.

I showed my middle finger to him.

– But fucker that you are, that doesnt mean you can get rid of me, you pathetic misanthropic shit. I mean, Im not saying you dont grow old after about the first five minutes Im with you, but I can fucking take it. God knows Ive had the practice. So.

I hooked a thumb at the house.

– Ill be here next week with a truck to start hauling away some of this shit and to get the lights turned on. And. Whatever.

He straightened his glasses.

– Whats the matter, Web?

– Fuck you.

He stood up.

– What happened? Whats been happening? Whats this about?

I put a hand on his chest as he approached me.

– L.L., all this is about is how I dont want to get a call one day from someone, and find out your corpse has been rotting up here for five weeks and I have to come and smell it and see the stain where you melted into the carpet. I dont want to clean up after you when youre dead.

He nodded.

– Well, I didnt want to clean up after you when you were a baby. So I guess thats fair.

I nodded.

– King Fucker, L.L., thats you.

He dropped back into his chair.

– You hold your own, Web, you hold your own just fine.

– I have skills.

He turned his back, put his feet on the lower rail of the deck and picked up his book.

– Make the most of them.

I stood there.

– Ill be back next week with the truck.

He tugged a stained handkerchief from his pocket and waved it in the air.

– As you wish.

I went to the door.

– I found the money in Karenina. -Did you read the book?

– Man, I know all I need to know about unhappy families.

He wiped his nose with the handkerchief and returned it to his pocket.

– I guess you would.

I scratched my head.

– But I could use some more money.

He opened his book.

– Yes, I saw that you are wearing a towel in lieu of actual pants. One suspects you might need the odd dollar or two. As I said earlier, its in the jar.

– I need a lot. For a fuckup I know. Someone pathetic enough to need help from someone like me.

He picked up his glass and toasted the sky.

– Help yourself. If you need more than whats there, let me know.

I started into the house.

L.L. called after.

– Delightful to see you, Web. Nothing like a visit from the fruit of the old loins to make a man feel his mortality creeping up from behind. Ah, all this gloriously morbid talk. Just what a lion in winter requires on a chill evening. Thanks and thanks again. We must do it again soonest.

I listened to him as I negotiated the books and bottles in the kitchen and found the rooster-shaped cookie jar from my childhood and took off the lid and began sorting through the wads of bills stuffed inside.

Sparing a look at L.L. as I headed out the front door, the book back on his stomach, head dropped forward, shoulders rising and falling, King Fucker of the world at rest.

The light was on in our apartment when I parked the Apache in its spot.

I stared up at the light.

– What night is it?

Soledad had to think about that one.

– Sunday?

– Crap.

I opened the truck door and looked around the cab.

– It look pretty clean in here?

She looked at the seats.

– Looks really clean to me.

– Sure, to you and me it looks really clean, but to the guy who restored this thing from the axles up, it doesnt take much.

She brushed some ashes from the seat.

– Better?

I got out.

– Come on.

I jingled my keys and fiddled with the knob before going in. But I didnt need to give him any warning, he knew the sound of the Apache from a block away.

I opened up.

He looked from the TV screen showing a paused frame of Spetters, put a finger to his lips and pointed at Dot, curled sleeping on the couch with her head in his lap.

I nodded and came in and closed the door softly, and Soledad rapped on it and Dot lifted her head.

– Mfuh?

I opened the door.

Soledad tapped my forehead.

– Forget something?

– Sorry.

I held the door open and she came in.

– Thats Chev. Thats his friend Dot.

Dot rubbed her face all over and looked at Soledad.

– Whasas?

I closed the door again.

– Hey Dot. Hey. This is Soledad. Shes. This is Soledad.

Soledad pointed at the hall.

– Bathroom?

– Uh, yeah. Straight back.

She went down the hall.

Dot watched her go, looked back at me.

– She know what a dick you are?

I nodded.

– Most definitely.

She put her head back in Chevs lap.

– Mustve been the steam room look that got her.

I pulled the towel tighter around my waist.

– Yeah, she digs the bathhouse scene.

I bounced the truck keys on my palm and Chev held his hand up and I tossed them to him and he caught them.

He looked at the keys.

– You put gas in her?

– Yeah. Stopped at the corner.

– Its too expensive there.

– I didnt remember before.

He let the keys dangle from his index finger and studied them.

– She give you any problems?

– No. No problems.

Soledad came out from the bathroom and stood at the mouth of the hall and pointed at the two bedroom doors.

– Im tired.

I pointed at mine.

– That one.

She yawned, covered her mouth.

– OK.

She took her hand away and peeked around the corner.

– Hey Chev, Dot, nice to meet you. Hope I get to talk later.

She waved at me

– Dont stay up too long.

And went into my bedroom.

Dot pulled a thin blanket from the back of the couch and put it around her bare legs.

– She seems nice.

I walked over to my bookcase.

– She is.

I took a book from the case.

– Say, Dot.

– Mhun?

– Im sorry I was such a gargantuan dick the other day.

She closed her eyes.

– Chev says sorry dont mean shit.

I looked at Chev.

– Hes right about that.

She found one of Chevs hands and tugged his arm around her shoulders.

– Then fuck your apology, just try to be nicer to me.

– OK. Ill try.

Chev pointed at the TV.

– Youre in the way.

I got out of the way and he started his movie playing.

I walked to the hall, stopped.

– Hey man.

He held up a hand.

– I want to watch this.

I nodded.

– OK. Tomorrow?

He nodded.