by Cindy Combs
Jim chuckled, "Right now, with Acampos' murderer behind bars and the ownership of The Dawn in the courts, the Dantes could care less about Taylor. Plus the Tangs are trying to keep a low profile, so as not to hurt Keane by any family association. Thus both should leave our little thief alone."
"What about Taylor?" Obie asked.
"Oh, the FBI will make sure Taylor gets a fresh start. In fact, I had a chat with Okuma's boss about his future. I wouldn't be surprised if Taylor ends up working as a consultant for their agency."
"How'd you manage that?" Blair asked, surprised.
"I just convinced Okuma and the boss that, with Taylor's skills, it might be better if he were working with them instead of spending time in jail learning how to be a better criminal. Without his cousin's influence, the kid's young enough that he can still turn things around."
"I hear that." Obie was impressed, in spite of himself. Maybe the uptight ex-soldier really was a softy at heart.
"That's great." Blair checked his watch. "But, now I've crossed the line from being Late to being Very Late. Gotta run. Enjoy your tofu burgers." To Jim, he added sentinel soft, "A word to the wise, Jim: if he makes something called 'jungle rice', avoid it." Raising his voice to carry outside, Blair called out, "See ya later, Obie!"
"'Jungle rice'?" Warily, Jim made his way onto the balcony, half-afraid to see what Blair's uncle had done to his barbecue. He winced at the strong odor of the odd spices Obie was using.
"Just a dash more--ah, perfect! Hope you're hungry. Brody! C'mon boy, dinner's on!"
A quick glance told Jim that the dog was hiding under the table again. He wished he could get away that easily.
"Listen, Jim, thanks for going to bat for Taylor with the Feds. I have to tell you, for someone who prides himself on being able to read people, I sure did misread you."
Jim shrugged. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't have pegged you for the Albert Schweitzer-type, either. I have a lot of respect for what you guys in the DWB do."
"Yeah, but it wasn't just the military/cop thing. I mean, it's not the career I would have picked for my nephew, I'll be honest." Obie paused, picking at the burgers with the spatula, "I think, maybe, I just got used to being the only Big Brother-figure in Blair's life. I didn't want to lose that special place. But, he's right, you're a good guy, Jim. If he's going to be a cop, I'm glad he has a friend like you looking out for him." Obie offered a grin, trying to be conciliatory. "And, hey, anyone who could survive eighteen months with the Chopec got to have something on the ball."
"Your work with the DWB ever take you down to Peru?"
Obie laughed, "Oh man, set the Way Back Machine! Let me think... Ouch!" Obie yanked his hand back from the fire as a spark singed his fingertip. "You got a potholder around here?"
"Yeah, sure. Hey, how about a beer?" Jim offered.
"Sounds great, thanks."
Jim ducked into the kitchen. He was almost to the refrigerator when his attention was drawn to the pots on the counter, all filled with Obie's foodstuff.
"Let's see, there was Africa, I spent quite a while down there before Rwanda. Then there was..."
"Um, Obie...?"
"Then there was the stint in Bosnia..."
"Obie!" Jim called, voice a bit sharper this time. "What's in the bowl?"
"Which bowl?"
"The small white one."
Obie beamed, "Oh--that's my specialty: Jungle rice. And let's see, yeah, I was in South America for awhile..."
Jim stared as the top layer of 'rice' moved. Just barely holding back a gag, Jim turned and swept Brody off the floor. Looking down at the mutt in his arms, he suggested quietly, "what do you say we eat out tonight?" Brody wagged his tail in agreement. Unseen by Obie, they snuck out the door of the loft.
"...for awhile. Hey Jim have you ever been down to Rio de Janeiro for the fes--Jim? Jim? Brody?"
The End
* * *
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