Chapter 7

“Good, because if anyone did, I’d have to call a hit on him.” Lou laughed. “No, I’m not really in the mob, but I like to make folks think I might be. Bet you’ve wondered, haven’t you?”

Spark grunted his assent. “Yeah, I wondered, but then I figured you were too suave for that, too smart. From what I see on the tube, things aren’t real good for the mob these days.”

Lou pulled free and moved back enough to give Spark space to turn around. “I wouldn’t know for sure, but it sounds that way. I’d rather be in my shoes right now, regardless.” He laughed. “Only I’m barefoot.”

He settled back on the bench ledge and watched as Spark stood, stretched and then sat down beside him. Moments later, a slight sound alerted them to someone’s approach. Miguel, one of the junior hands, entered the gazebo. He carried a tray with two glasses and four brown bottles. He set his burden down carefully on the empty bench, the one closest to where the two men sat.