UnderCover

by David R Lewis

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself,” Crockett said. “What are you doing?”

  “If you must know, I’m sitting in your chair watching Dundee and Nudge sleep on the couch while I think about you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, snookums. There’s nothing good on TV. What are you doing?”

  “Sitting in a lawn chair on the front deck, staring into the night, drinking scotch and thinking about you.”

  “Finally using your time to your best advantage, Crockett. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How’s Whisper?”

  “Amazing. Better than I ever imagined.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “A dream come true. The dream is about to end, though.”

  “I know. Danni called an hour or so ago. Told me the gang was breaking up.”

  “She okay?”

  “Sad and glad. You know.”

  “Yeah. I do. This whole thing is about to wind down. Another few days and it should all be settled.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “I suppose you’ll want your cabin back.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “Have you.”

  “Yeah. I think the addition of a small mud room on the back side and an outbuilding for storage might be good.”

  “Really?”

  “The extra space could come in handy.”

  “Extra space is always nice.”

  “Maybe pave a parking area, clear out more yard, clean up some of the…”

  “Yes, Crockett. I will.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yes, David. I will marry you.”

  “Marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Goddammit, Satin! Who asked you?”

  “You did. You’ve been asking me since I answered the damn phone!”

  “The least you could have done was have the decency to wait until I did.”

  “Decency ain’t got nothin’ to do with this relationship, Crockett.”

  “You will, huh?”

  “Sure.”

  “Now that’s just fine, that is. Smart girl.”

  “Whatever. It’s getting late. Anything else?”

  “Any thoughts on how I should break the news to Whisper?”

  Satin disconnected.

  Crockett smiled into the darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Around nine-thirty the next morning, Crockett returned from a visit to his bank after exercising his Big Sur Imports card and found Stitch at the kitchen counter.

  “Coffee, dude? It’s fresh.”

  “Thanks,” Crockett said, slumping on a stool.

  “Bummer, huh?”

  “Yeah. Ever brief, our time together, ever changing as the weather. Sun and moon and wind and rain, full of happiness trimmed in pain.”

  “Wow. Who wrote that, man?”

  Crockett blinked. “I guess I did,” he said.

  “Cool. When?”

  “Just now, I think.”

  “Far out! You’re kinda waxin’, ain’tcha.”

  A little embarrassed, Crockett smiled. “Maybe I am, Stitch. Jesus. I gotta get a grip, here. I feel like a fool.”

  “That would be a sentimental old fool, man. Nothin’ wrong with that shit as long as you keep it in the kitchen. I kinda like it when the softer side a Crockett shows.”

  “You’re not gonna ask me out to dinner are you, hippie?”

  “Naw, dude. Not me. But I will fix ya breakfast.”

  “Just coffee. I’m not very hungry.”

  “Me neither, man. Kinda a downer, ya know?”

  Crockett’s reply was stopped by the arrival of Irwin Bergman dragging a duffel bag and carrying a toolbox and laptop.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Hey, Irwin,” Stitch replied. “Got all your shit?”

  “Yes. Back to Denver, I suppose.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Oh no. I don’t take stimulants.”

  “It’s been a pleasure, Irwin,” Crockett said. “I appreciate your help. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “You are an excessively resourceful man, Mister Crockett. I am certain you would have found a way. That said, I am significantly pleased to have been a part of this venture. It has been, in many ways, quite exciting. I find that I have gained a great deal from the experience with you and your associates. Please give my best to Mister Cletus and Miss Danni.”

  “What about Whisper?”

  “Ah,” Irwin replied, adjusting his burdens and shuffling toward the door. “She and I spoke earlier. She has given me what she called ‘a day’s head start.’ Therefore, I must be on my way. Goodbye.”

  Watching him go, Crockett shook his head. “A day’s head start?”

  “Got me,” Stitch said. His gaze traveled over Crockett’s shoulder. “Whisper! Hey, lady.”

  Crockett turned to see the girl standing about ten feet behind him. She was dressed in a t-shirt, belled blue jeans, and heels. Perched backwards on her head was a black Moto Guzzi ball cap. Stitch rounded the counter and she stepped forward to give him a hug.

  “Been a treat, girlfriend,” Stitch said, releasing her. “You’re a helluva chick, man. You be careful an’ shit, ya know?”

  Whisper reached up and gently pulled his beard. “And you are a helluva guy, Stitch,” she replied. “You’ve done Danni a lot of good.”

  Stitch kissed her on top of the head. “See ya,” he said, and walked toward the rear of the house.

  Crockett smiled as Whisper approached where he sat, stepped in between his knees, put her arms around him, and nestled into his chest. He contributed his portion of the hug and they held each other.

  “Got your stuff?” he asked.

  “Already in the car,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

  “It has been a joy having you around, young lady. You’ve stolen some of my heart, you know.”

  Whisper pulled slowly pulled away and looked at him. There were tears on her face. “You’ve stolen some of mine, too,” she said. “Look at me. I’m crying for chrissakes.”

  “Looks good on ya.”

  “I never cry, Crockett,” Whisper went on, backhanding the tears away from her eyes. “Never. I’m untouchable, and you’ve touched me. I’m unreachable, and you’ve reached me. Goddamn you.”

  Crockett opened his arms again and she plunged into them. He held her while she sobbed for a moment or two. Finally she wiped her face on his shirt, twisted, and pushed away from him.

  “Enough of that,” she said. “I gotta get out of here.”

  “Okay,” Crockett said, removing a wad of cash from his hip pocket and handing it to her. The girl riffled through the bills and peered at him.

  “Our deal was for ten grand,” she said.

  “Yes, it was.”

  “This is twenty-five large.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “How come?”

  “Because it’s only money, and because I thought you might take some more time off.”

  Whisper cocked her head sideways and smiled. “You trying to reform me?”

  “Not me, sweetie. I know better. Just trying to give you a break.”

  “You’ve given me a lot more than that.” She leaned in again and kissed him gently on the lips. “Thanks.”

  Crockett watched as Whisper walked to the door. She stopped before reaching it, turned and peered around the room.

  “Gosh,” she said. “There’s nobody here but us. Alone at last. Got time for a quickie?”

  Crockett grinned. “Go away,” he said.

  Returning his grin, Whisper giggled, lifted her t-shirt, flashed him, and scampered out the door.

  Crockett was on his second cup of coffee when Stitch returned. He settled on a stool and looked around. “Ol’ Whisper split, man?”

  “Yeah,” Crockett replied. “She hung on me and cried for
a while.”

  Stitch smiled. “That surprise ya?”

  “Yes and no. Then when she left, she flashed me as she went out the door.”

  “Dude! That surprise ya?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Another notch on your cane, man. You do that to chicks, Crockett. You confuse their asses. They expect somethin’ an’ they don’t get it. They get something an’ they didn’t expect it. Confuses ‘em. A confused chick is a dangerous chick, motherfucker. Ain’t no tellin’ what they might do. Even flash your ass on their way out the door. Far out.”

  “Martin Carroll Winkler, the sage,” Crockett said.

  “That’s me,” Stitch said. “As long as we’re gittin’ into deep shit here, I got a question for ya. An’ I’m serious, man.”

  Crockett sighed. “All right. What?”

  “Were them tailor-mades a hers as outstanding as I hope they were?”

  “What? Oh, goddammit, Stitch.”

  “Settle down, Crockett. That was a preventative action, man. I just didn’t want ya to get all misty an’ wallow in your angst, ya know?”

  Crockett glared at him for a moment, then smiled. “Thanks,” he said.

  “No problem, dude,” Stitch said. “But, were they?”

  Eventually, Crockett’s appetite took over and he was preparing a late breakfast for himself and Stitch when Danni entered the area.

  “What are we having?” she asked.

  “Hash browns with onion, garlic, and chopped ham, and poached eggs,” Crockett said. Want some?”

  “Sure. Everybody gone?”

  “Yep.”

  “How was Whisper?”

  “She seemed a little sad, but she got over it.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sure.””

  “What?”

  “I got up last night to get a drink of juice and I heard her crying in her room. It took me over an hour to settle her down, Crockett.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really, dammit!”

  “Why are you pissed off at me? What’d I do?”

  “You gave her hope, dumbass! Jesus.”

  “Silly me. How could I have been so heartless?”

  Danni stared at the counter for a moment while Crockett attacked the hash browns.

  “You know what I mean,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  Crockett stopped and turned to her. “Maybe I do,” he said.

  “It’s the same thing you did for my mom. It’s the same thing you did for me.”

  “An’ the same thing you did for a lot of other people, too, man,” Stitch said.

  Crockett couldn’t think of anything to say. He got busy cracking eggs and avoided conversation. After a few moments, Danni went on.

  “Whisper’s a little bit in love with you, Crockett. She doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s never happened to her before.”

  “Oh, hell. I’m sorry. That was certainly not my intention.”

  “I know it wasn’t. Whisper is fucked up. She’s never had any real kindness in her life, she’s in the industry, she’s alone, and she doesn’t know anything else. Then you’re kind to her and respectful of her, and big, and solid, and older, and you don’t want anything from her, and Jesus!”

  “What can I do?”

  “You? Nothing! Whisper’s gotta work this out for herself. Maybe she will, maybe she won’t, but there is not a thing you can do about it, except make it worse. Butt out.”

  As Crockett was slipping the eggs into the poacher, a mental light came on. “I’ll be dammed,” he said.

  “What?” Danni asked.

  “As Irwin was leaving this morning, he mentioned something about Whisper giving him a day’s head start. I’ll bet she’s going to Denver and hang out with him for a while.”

  “That would be good,” Danni said. “Irwin’ll treat her like a queen.”

  “Ah, let’s get realistic,” Stitch said. “The cat’s name is Irwin Bergman, man. He won’t treat her like a queen. He’ll treat her like a princess. Dig it.”

  After breakfast was over, Stitch drifted off while Danni stayed to help clean up. Crockett looked at her for a moment and took the plunge.

  “Your mother and I are getting married,” he said. Danni froze in her tracks.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Your mom and I are getting married,” Crockett repeated.

  “You asked her to marry you?”

  “Almost. I started it and she finished it.”

  “You’re getting married.”

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Where?”

  “I dunno.”

  “What in the hell do you know, Crockett?”

  “I know that Satin and I have decided to tie the knot, I know that I’m gonna add a little more room and shit to the cabin, I know that her apartment will be empty and I’ll take care of the rent and utilities so you can work, live there if you want to, and save up to go to school and be a mom. I know that you’ll have part-time, let me stress, part-time baby sitters when you need them, and I know that the rest of my life will be a bed of roses wrapped in bliss, covered in contentment, topped off with true happiness and days full of joy.”

  Danni grinned. “Yeah. Right,” she said. “I gotta go. Gimmie a hug.”

  After the embrace, Danni put a hand to Crockett’s face. “Whisper’s not the only one that’s a little in love with you,” she said. “But, unlike her, I know what to do with it.”

  “What?” Crockett asked.

  Danni preened. “Be the wonderful daughter you’ve always wanted.”

  “Yeah,” Crockett said. “Right.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Stitch drifted back in about thirty minutes after Danni departed and grinned at Crockett.

  “Sure is a lonely ol’ house after the kids leave, huh, man?”

  Crockett smiled. “Time to retire to someplace with a beach, I guess.”

  “Yeah. Shuffleboard and early-bird dinner specials. Maybe the Friday night dance at the VFW. Dig it.”

  Crockett poured himself the last cup in the pot and returned to the counter. “Now it starts, Stitch,” he said.

  “Clete be back tonight?”

  “Said he would.”

  “With nine more kilos?”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Wow, man. That is a shitload a nose candy.”

  “With what we already have, quarter of a million dollars.”

  “Fuck, Crockett. That’s cheap. Stepped on a few times an’ grammed out, then you’re talkin’ millions on the street, man. Freakin’ millions, dude.”

  “You ever have a cocaine problem, Stitch?”

  “Yeah. My problem was, I couldn’t do the shit.”

  “What?”

  “Blow fucks up your nose, man. Chronic cats fuck their noses up bad. Holes in ‘em an’ shit. My problem was, if I did a couple a tiny lines a blow, I couldn’t breathe through my nose for a week.”

  “So you didn’t like it.”

  “Naw, man, I loved the shit! I just could handle bein’ stopped up for days an’ sleepin’ at night with toilet paper plugs in my nose ‘cause it dripped all the time. Fuckin’ bummer, dude. Too big a price to pay for a twenty minute buzz, ya know?”

  “Would be for me.”

  “Plus, there’s the whole addiction thing, man. Blow’s addictive, smack’s addictive. I never liked the idea of havin’ to get over something like that. Easy to start, hard as hell to fuckin’ stop. I knew this cat in the ‘Nam, man. Little fucker, ‘bout five and a half feet tall. Nothin’ special, just your standard issue army draftee grunt, goes through basic and gets shipped to a firebase. More fresh meat, ya know? No history with drugs. A little reefer. Just this eighteen-year-old kid. First night in, they put his ass on top of a bunker surrounded by coils a razor wire an’ shit, an’ tell this kid to keep his eyes peeled to the west out across this valley and raise hell if he sees any movement. There he sits, hangin’
on to his M16, scared shitless, all through the longest fuckin’ night of his young life, ya know?”

  Stitch stopped for a drink of coffee and shivered.

  “So,” he went on, “ the next morning, man, when it’s just light enough to see, this dude looks around and, hangin’ all through the wire, some as close to his ass as three fuckin’ feet, are a dozen or two little North Vietnamese flags, Crockett. Some a those Zips could move like snakes, man. On the best day we ever had, dude, neither one a us coulda got through that wire with tin snips an’ a fuckin’ map. We woulda been bleedin’ from a thousand cuts. One a those little rice-propelled motherfuckers had come into the wire overnight on his fingertips and toenails, and hung those fuckin flags all around this cat, and the kid never saw or heard a thing! Was he sleepin’? Fuck no he wasn’t sleepin’! He was too fuckin’ scared to sleep. That’s just how good some a them slopes were.”

  Stitch stopped for breath and shivered again.

  “The kid was freaked, Crockett. Who wouldn’t be? So, by lunch time, this brand new grunt, this son of the land of the fee and the home of the slave, this kid, whose toughest problem in life before the ‘Nam had been gettin’ a cheerleader’s bra strap undone, has a needle in his arm and smack in his veins. ‘Cause he wanted to get addicted to something? Fuck no, man. Nobody wants that shit. ‘Cause, for whatever reason, there was nothing else he could do with the fear, man. Ya find a way to cope, or ya explode.

  “I’m a fuckin’ hero, dude. Uncle Sam said so. Even tried to give me some pretty little medals and ribbons so I could prove it to everybody. I been through some shit, okay? I even replaced my door gunner’s eye with the shot off end a my thumb, man. But I never sat on no bunker in the middle of a bunch a concertina while some slimy little Gook snaked his way within touchin’ distance a my dick, an’ left a bunch a flags behind just to show me how easy it would a been for him to stick a knife in my shortribs. Jesus Christ! I’d rather had the blade than them fuckin’ flags!”

  “Wow,” Crocket whispered.

  “No shit, wow,” Stitch said. “You wanna know the real reason that kid got totally fucked up.”