Liquid Shades of Blue by James Polkinghorn

Author:James Polkinghorn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oceanview Publishing
Published: 2023-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When I woke up, it was still dark. The luminous dial on my dive watch told me it was a little after six a.m. I felt a little better than I did the previous two mornings, meaning only that my system was adjusting to the nightly assaults with alcohol. I’d been drinking more than I should have since I moved to Key West, but I managed to avoid what—to me—would have been problem drinking by a fairly strict routine of running and weight-lifting. A three-night bender like the one I was on was unusual. Thinking that I needed to work up a sweat somehow, I put on the training shorts, tee shirt, and running shoes I had packed in my bag and headed for the stairs. As I descended, I heard the faint clatter of a cup and saucer and the tines of a fork on a plate. I knew I would find the Duke in the kitchen, immaculately dressed in a Brioni suit, crisp white shirt, and impeccably knotted silk tie. I was right. As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, the Duke looked up from the front page of the Wall Street Journal in mock surprise.

“Well, well. Is the early bird in search of a worm?”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to take that, so I deflected.

“Actually, I was wondering if you have some sort of a home gym around here. I really need to work out.”

I thought I saw the Duke internally debating whether to more explicitly pursue his original question, but he let it go.

“Of course, Son. I was using it a bit earlier. It’s over on the other side of the house facing the pool. If you just go out the patio door and turn left, you’ll find it toward the end. There’s a bench, an Olympic bar, free weights, dumbbells, and a Smith machine including pull-up bars. You should be right at home.”

Pausing for a moment, he observed, “You look to be in decent shape, at least from the neck down. How’s your weight?”

“Still 205. My college weight, give or take.” Eyeing him, I added, “How’s yours?”

Smiling, the Duke responded, “I’m at 172 as of this morning. The exact same as when I landed in Qatar, ready to fight.”

The look in his eyes didn’t match his smile. The Duke always projected physical menace and was letting me know, as alpha males often do as a matter of reflex, that our size difference would make no difference if it came down to it. I had never been in any sort of physical conflict with the Duke and had never even wondered about the outcome. Who thinks about beating up his own father? One thing was not in doubt, though: the Duke would hold nothing back in a fight.

Turning to the coffeemaker sitting on the opposite counter, I poured a cup and stirred in some Sweet ‘N Low and cream. Maybe it was too early in the morning, or maybe my hangover was affecting me, but I couldn’t quite understand the tension in the room.

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