Winter Tides by James P Blaylock

Author:James P Blaylock [Blaylock, James P]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780575117679
Google: nxxL_U2tDzMC
Amazon: B008CPBHSE
Barnesnoble: B008CPBHSE
Goodreads: 421033
Publisher: Ace
Published: 1997-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

33

“I’M NOT LISTENING,” CASEY TOLD HIM. “YOU CAN GO ahead and talk, but I’m watching Jeopardy, so I’m not paying attention to anything you say. They’ve got South Pacific islands as a category, and I’m nailing it.”

“You don’t have a choice, Case. I’m not joking around now. I’ve got something serious to say, and I’d just as soon not say it over the phone. I was thinking of coming over. And how the hell are you watching Jeopardy? It’s eleven-thirty.”

“The marvels of videotape. I don’t watch TV until late. Nancy won’t watch it at all, so I wait until she goes to bed.”

“Well, I’ve got something I want to talk about.”

“How serious is it?”

“Veıy.”

“Can you turn it into a Jeopardy answer?”

“Look …”

“Then you can’t come over. I never talk serious this late at night. Okay, wait, wait … Man! Fiji, for God’s sake. I can’t believe how lame these people are. If I was on there tonight, I’d tear it up. South Pacific islands and basketball on the same damned slate. None of these bozos knew anything about the Celtics back in the Larry Bird days.”

“Don’t put me off, Case. Am I coming over or not?”

“What for?”

“Because your brother …”

Casey began knocking against the phone now with some sort of metal object and whistling tunelessly. “I’m not listening,” he said, breaking in on all the noisemaking. He wasn’t drunk, either. He was perfectly sharp and coherent.

There was sudden silence. Dave could hear the Jeopardy music in the background. “Your brother …” he started to say again. The knocking started up along with the whistling. Dave waited it out.

“You want to talk?” Casey said finally.

“Yeah, I want to talk.”

“Then We’ll talk on the beach, in fact, it’s funny you called, because I’d already made up my mind that you were going out tomorrow morning. That’s the plan. No bullshit. Tomorrow the elusive Dave gets wet. The swell’s faded, but it’s still good, probably better than it’s been, if it’s shape you want instead of size. I’m bringing that board I bought from Bill. You’ll love it. You get your goddamn wetsuit off the back fence. You might want to bring it into the house if you want it dry.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What wetsuit?”

“Whoa! Don’t bother to lie to me and tell me you sold it at a yard sale. I broke into your lousy garage this afternoon and found it. It’s not hip any more, but it’ll keep you warm. The zippers work. The seams are tight except for the knee’s a little ragged. I hosed the sawdust off and hung it over your back fence, over by the lemon tree. You’re ready to ride, bro.”

“I don’t know …”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why I’m calling the shots. I was going to make it a surprise attack, but now that you’ve called, you might as well check it out right now. Here’s the game plan: I’m knocking at your door at half past five. You with me so far?”

“Go on,” Dave said.

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