Cold Snap: Stories by Jones Thom

Author:Jones, Thom [Jones, Thom]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2016-11-07T16:00:00+00:00

Ooh Baby Baby

DOWNSHIFTING, and with his eye on the light at La Cienega and Santa Monica boulevards, Dr. Moses Galen rammed his Jaguar down from rocket speed, way down to a measly ten over the limit. There was a Chevy van ahead of him and if the driver had had the sense to get it on, he could have made the signal, but suddenly the van’s taillights had come up red. Galen’s left foot, loosely encased in a featherweight Bally loafer, pressed hard on the brake pedal, bringing the car to an abrupt, nose-dipping stop. Oh hell! Shit, man, this light was notoriously long! You could get stranded at this light. It just lasted forever. The Chevy could have made it with any kind of half-ass try. Christ Almighty! What a way to begin the weekend! Galen gunned the engine in frustration. The Jag’s deep, full-bodied thrag added a certain distinctive, upscale flair to the overall roar. But the whole of it, all of the mind-numbing din of street noise, intruded into the tightly sealed cabin of the car. Too much noise. Too much traffic. Too many people on this sorry-ass goddamn planet.

Still the Jaguar was a pleasure. Its air conditioner deliciously tossed the smell of leather upholstery and Linda’s expensive French cologne. He looked over at her. She had one hand on the dash with the other clenching an armrest after Galen’s quick stop. He had been so intent on the traffic and his hunger that he had almost forgotten her. The way she remained in this emergency posture struck Moses as a bit theatrical but she looked and smelled pretty darn good. Pretty fine. Yeah, she was lookin’ good. The sights and smells Galen most ardently longed for, however, were those of a hot meal—bacon, eggs, coffee, and a steaming platter of buttermilk pancakes topped with butter and maple syrup. He was starving but before he could eat there was this traffic jam.

Galen turned up the radio to catch the news. There was a report about food shortages in Somalia. Hell, they were starving their asses over there—again! “Christ, babe, we went over there out of the goodness of our hearts, tried to straighten things out, and they just end up hating us for it. What are you supposed to do? Now they’re starving again! And that maniac from Iraq is pulling his shit, too. Haiti, Rwanda—Jesus H.!”

Linda said, “A bloodbath in Rwanda and now Somalia again. Starvation. Terrible.”

But could it be worse than this? Moses wondered. It was all subjective, but could a diabetic on a low sugar jag feel any worse than those poor bastards? Galen knew he was running a sugar approximately in the forty mgs/DL range. Oh man, Somalia.

Moses had done a cleft palate restoration clinic in Mogadishu in the early 70s and before heading back to Kenya for some camera safari action, he had moved inland to practice a little general medicine. He had seen the villagers. They weren’t starving then, but they were definitely lean.

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