Jonathan Kellerman - Flesh And Blood

“Helping you?” Anita looked me up and down. Same once-over Cheryl had delivered down on the beach, but this scrutiny was impersonal – flat and suspicious – without the slightest flavor of flirtation. Trained eye accustomed to judging flesh?

The long-haired man had been examining Cheryl’s wet dress. One of his hands began massaging a button of his suit.

“I had a little… trouble,” said Cheryl.

“Trouble?” said Anita.

“No big deal,” said Cheryl. “So… what’re you guys doing here?”

“We dropped by,” said the man. He had a high, nasal voice. Without looking at me, he said, “Doing some diving?”

Cheryl said, “He was boating, Kent. Baxter got a little bit in the water, and he helped me. So I thought it would be nice-”

Anita broke in: “Are you saying Baxter could’ve drowned?”

“No, no. It never got to that point – It’s no big deal, guys. He just got in the water before I could stop him and the waves got a little… I would’ve reached him just fine, but Alex here was passing by, and he was nice enough to jump in, that’s all.”

“Alex,” said the man named Kent. “Sounds kind of exciting-”

Anita Duke shot him a sharp look, and he shut his mouth.

“It was no really big deal, guys,” Cheryl insisted. “You know what a good swimmer Bax is. It’s just that I had Sage on my hands too, and by the time – Alex helped me and I wanted to thank him, so I asked him to come up so I could give him something.”

“A tip,” said Kent.

Anita said, “Well, that’s certainly the gracious thing to do.” To Kent: “Why don’t you show him our appreciation, honey, and then you can see him off.”

Talking softly, but no mistaking the imperiousness. There’s nothing men despise more than being ordered around by a woman in front of another man. Long-haired Kent smiled and dipped his hand into his trouser pocket, but the anger settled around his eyes and his mouth, and he threw it back at me.

A crocodile billfold appeared, and he pulled out a twenty and waved it in my face. “Here you go, my friend.”

“A little more than that, Kent,” said Anita. “After all.”

Kent’s mouth turned down, and his eyes disappeared among fleshy folds. “How much?”

“You be the judge.”

“Sure,” said Kent, forcing a smile. Another twenty joined the first.

“I’d say another,” offered Anita.

Kent’s smile hung on for dear life. Out came the billfold again, and he thrust the sixty dollars at me. “My wife’s the generous type.”

“No, thanks,” I said. “No tip necessary.”

“Take it,” said Anita. “It’s the least we can do.”

“It’s just as she said, no big deal.”

Cheryl said, “Anyway, I need to get the kids inside.”

“I’ll help you with them,” said Anita. “Give me Baxter – he’s always a handful for you.” Stepping forward, she placed her hands around the boy’s rib cage, took him from me, kept her face close to mine. “Let’s make it an even hundred dollars and then you can go, Alex.”

“Nothing,” I said. “I’ll go anyway.”

“Oh, dear,” said Anita. Holding Baxter tight, she walked into the house.

Cheryl flashed me a look – helpless, apologetic – then followed.

Kent said, “Let me give you some advice: When someone offers you something, you should take it. Just out of courtesy.” He waved the three twenties.

“Donate it to charity,” I said.

He smiled. “I thought I was – Okay, you’re a stubborn guy. Let’s get you back to your canoe.” Placing a hand on my shoulder. Squeezing a little too forcefully, and when I resisted he dug his fingers in even harder. I freed myself from his grip, and his hands rose protectively. Boxer’s instincts. But still smiling.

I turned and headed back down the pathway. He caught up, laughing, his pink T-shirt spotted with sweat. He wore a strong cologne – orange brandy and anise and some other scents I couldn’t pinpoint. “What exactly happened with Cheryl and Bax?”

“Just what Cheryl said.”

“The kid wasn’t drowning? You just decided to play hero?”

“At the time it seemed the right thing to do.”

“I’m asking because sometimes she gets careless,” he said. “Not intentionally, more like… she doesn’t always pay attention.” Pause. “Did she wave for you or did you just volunteer?”

“I saw the boy out in the water, couldn’t tell he was a good swimmer, and went after him. That’s it.”

“Oh boy,” he said, chuckling. “I’ve rubbed you the wrong way. Sorry, I just wanted to know. For the sake of those kids. I’m their uncle, and more often than not the responsibility falls on my wife and me.”

I didn’t answer.

He said, “We’re talking child welfare here, my friend.”

“I volunteered,” I said. “I probably overreacted.”

“Okay,” he said. “So now I’ve got a straight answer. Finally.” Grin. “You’re making me work, bro.” He wiped his forehead.

We walked to the fence in silence. When we got there he placed his hand on the gate latch. “Look, you did a good deed, I really would like to compensate you. How about two hundred, cash, and we call it a deal? Also, I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone about this – You live around here?”

“Tell who?”

“Anyone.”

“Sure,” I said. “Nothing to tell.”

He studied me. “You don’t know who she is?”

I shook my head.

He laughed, whipped out the billfold.

I shook my head. “Forget it.”

“You really mean it, don’t you?” he said. “What are you, one of those Samaritan guys? Okay, listen, if there’s anything I can do for you – like if you need some work – do you do construction stuff? Or maintenance? I’ve always got something in development. Did you come from Paradise?”

I nodded.

“The restaurant,” he said. “That’s one of mine – we’re going to turn it into a landmark. So if you need a gig…” He slipped a white business card out of the fold.

KENT D. IRVING

Vice President and Projects Manager

Duke Enterprises

“Duke,” I said. “Not the magazine?”

“Yes, the magazine, bro. Among other things.”

I smiled. “Then how about a free subscription?”

“Hey, there’s an idea.” He slapped my back, drew his head back, and looked into the sun. Edging closer. Crowding me. “Give my office a call, we’ll send you a coupla years’ worth.”

I said, “I can see why you wouldn’t want me talking to anyone.”

“Can you?” Harder slap. “Well, there you go. And I know you’ll show some class. Not showing class would make a lot of people very unhappy, and you don’t look like the kind of guy who wants to spread unhappiness.”

“God forbid.”

“God doesn’t always forbid it,” he said. “Sometimes we have to look out for ourselves.”

He held the gate open, waited until I’d walked to the cable car and boarded, then produced a remote-control unit of his own. Big smile and a thumb flick and I was descending.

He waved bye-bye. I waved back, but I was staring over his shoulder, a hundred feet beyond, by one of the rock ponds, where a man in tennis whites stood and tossed something to the flamingos.

Thick torso, bulky shoulders, a cap of cropped black hair.

Black Suit, now in tennis whites. Drawing back his arm, he pitched to the birds. Scratched his head. Watched them eat.

Kent Irving kept his eye on me as I sank out of view.

WHEN I GOT back to the broken pier, Norris was sitting in the sand, legs yogi-crossed, smoking a joint. As I dragged the kayak to shore, he got up reluctantly and looked at his bare wrist. “Hey, right on time. Any wildlife?” He offered me the j.