Pulling One's Leg

It isn't until we are wheels up in the G-4 that I call Lou's bluff on this whole thing.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Lou looks at me with bloodshot eyes.
He has sobered up a bit. He must have put down two fifths of Scotch and a couple of those Cohiba blunts out there on the ship. He was so fucked up that he was starting to believe himself.
"Again I ask you... what the fuck are you talking about."

Now Chris and Jerry are both tuned in to our conversation. I look at Jer, who should know what I am talking about.
"Jerry, where's Naomi?"
"Back home." He looks at Lou and then me, "I knew this was some kind of running joke with you two, but for the life of me I can't figure out the punchline."

I look at Lou who seems incredulous. His eyes get wide for a moment, then he shakes his head.
"Jesus, what a buzz." He rubs his face with two lethal hands.

Chris looks at each of us for a moment. "So, what are we doing?"
"Looks like you are flying us up to the Sea of Cortez." Jerry tells him.
"For what, a joy ride?"
"Not so fast, Aunti Nellie." Lou scoots to the end of his overstuffed seat.
"You need six people for this mind-fucking salad bowl trick, don't you?"

Antonelli is silent for a moment, and there is a look coming across his face that might just scare the shit out of you if you were trapped in an alley with him.

"Easy, big boy." Lou smiles, trying to diffuse him. "You said you need six people." He looks at me and Jerry, then sizes up Chris. "I only see four people. The other two should be up at Rocky Point. If we are lucky they may still be there."

"Those two guys at the hotel?" Chris knows who we are talking about.
"Them's the ones." Lou tells him as he stretches long and hard, squeeking back into the leather seat.

"What salad bowl trick?" Jerry asks. In all of this we have left Jerry in the dark. We fill him in on what we know, prodding Chris to give as much detail as possible. He reluctantly complies. It is hard to get a team together when the half that matters won't play unless they get to pick the rest of the team.

"So what's the big deal? In a month you want to try this thing... I'm in." Jerry smiles and cracks open a bottle of Fiji water.
Chris smiles, "Yeah, I guess so... it really isn't such a big deal. I just need people I can trust."
Jerry keeps smiling at him, not missing a beat. "Well... so we have two more people to invite then."

In the G-4 the trip is only a couple of hours. We have to fly into Puerto Penasco, and even then the runway is too short. The captain stands on those brakes and we use every inch of asphalt. Lou wakes up from his most recent nap and takes a stretch.
"Wow... that was quick."
"No shit. What about a ride?" I look out the window at the desert.
Chris picks up a courtesy phone and calls the cockpit. After a short conversation he hangs up.
"There's a hired car going to meet us at the terminal."
"A hired car?"
"Yeah, that way you get a driver that knows the area and you don't have to share him with anyone."
"He knows what a hired care is, Nellie." Lou tells him, feeling in his pockets for something.

As we taxi up to the small terminal building, Lou starts looking in the compartments around his seat.
"What are you looking for?" Chris asks him.
"You got any more of those blunts?"

We load into the old Chevy Caprice and we are off to the beach. Nice weather here... hotter than shit but a sea breeze that keeps it at bay. The inside of this cab smells like a Turkish prison, so when Lou sparks up the Cohiba he found on the plane I am thankful. Better to smell like a Cuban bus station.

The cab driver says nothing when I try to engage him in a little small talk. He won't even look at me in the mirror. Where is a good place to get a cold beer? Where is a good place to eat? Which of his sisters can I take back to my room and fuck? Ah... now I get a look and he starts over to the side of the road.
"Easy compadre, I'm just wanted to see if you were listening."

Lou chokes on his cigar and pokes me in the ribs.
"Hey... easy, guys. You can't talk about a guy's sister like that." Chris tries to put a stop to it.

"Geez, Antonelli, if you're gonna hang out with us you better man up." Lou shakes his head. "And what the hell is this?" He holds the cigar out for his own inspection.
"It's just a cigar, Lou."
"Not one of those special ones, huh?"
"Just a cigar."
"Good though."

It is about fifteen minutes or so before we roll up on a familiar sight. The marina is at full stride; fishing charters on the docks getting pictures of their catch, commercial fishing boats loading up with diesel, tourists at the rental dock looking for a boat for the day.

On the beach, several spots down from where we had seen her that first time, is Andy's rig. We have our driver stop and the four of us get out. The breeze blows through our clothing and it feels wonderful.

"You suppose they're in there?" Chris asks, shading his eyes with his right hand.
The rig looks like it is buttoned up tight.

While the boys go over and give a knock, I head over to the marina office. Maybe Garcia knows where they have gone. We may just well have missed them altogether.

"Senior," Garcia covers the receiver on the old phone and acknowledges me. He rattles something off and then hangs up.
"You here to give friends ride to airport?" It comes out with a thick accent that has me hanging on every word. I don't respond, which causes more explanation.
"They call two hours for taxi cab. But he no come." He points to the small lounge, which is two plastic chairs and a broken coffee machine.
Inside I see Andy with his hands on his hips, buttoned up as usual, and even though he is facing the window I know there is a tisk emitting every thirty seconds or so. There are three suitcases at his feet and no sign of Mike.

"Here ya go, Mr. Garcia... Orange Crush. That one there is a cold one, I tell ya." Mike sets a wet soda can on the counter and Garcia thanks him. Before he can be made aware of my presence, he excuses himself as he passes me.
"Ooops, excuse me, fella... cold sodas. He brushes passed me, moving the two remaining cans from hand to hand, wiping the free hand on his shorts.
"That guy wasn't kiddin'... here ya go, Andy." He enters the lounge and holds out a can of Mr. Pibb. When Andy turns to take it he sees me and just stands there for a second.
"What... you don't like that Pibb now?" Mike hands the other can our toward him, "Canada Dry Ginger Ale?"

"Well I'll be damned." Andy smiles. It occurs to me that I don't think I have ever seen him smile.
Mike stops and turns, ginger ale can still in his extended hand.
"I'm good, Mike."
"Hey now, what the heck are you doing here?" Mike sets the cans on the luggage and gives my hand a hardy shake. Andy follows suit.

"We missed your cooking."
"We? You got a mouse in your pocket?"
"Me, Lou, Chris Antonelli, and my good buddy Jerry." I usher them outside and we see the boys on their way over from the rig.

"You leaving town?" I gesture back at the bags in the lounge through the window.
"Can't spend our entire lives out here." Andy says matter-of-factly. "Got a honey-do list six pages long back home."

Mike gives Lou a wave as he walks up and then its handshakes and back slapping all around. Lou gives Andy a bear hug that just might have popped his top button. Andy smiles back at the familiarity. I don't think he sees too much of that anywhere but here. His guard drops a little and he smiles a little more.

"It is nice to see you boys." Mike is ecstatic. He shakes Chris' hand and then turns to Jerry. "And who is this fine fella?"
I make the introductions. Mike has heard me talk of Jerry around the campfire, but hasn't laid eyes on him.

I talk to Chris for a second, then huddle with Lou and Jerry. We all turn to Andy and Mike, the unaswered question of our arrival still on their lips.
"We have a proposition for you two."