Blue Smoke

of the chair.
    So he sat where he was, in the morning light coming through the windows, with a can of warm Coke on the table. And thought what a strange, strange ride life was.
    He’d barely finished off the Coke when there was more banging on his door. “For God’s sake.”

    He got up, decided the pills and the peas had helped, and headed out. He was going to have to give the woman a key, he could see that coming. And that was the next thing to living together, which was cousin to the all-powerful M word. And he just didn’t want to think about that yet.
    When he pulled open the door, his arms were immediately filled with female. But it wasn’t Reena.
    “Bo. God, Bo!” Mandy squeezed him hard enough to have his bruises weeping. “We came right over, as soon as we heard.”
    “Heard what? We who?”
    “About the bomb in your truck.” She jerked back and her eyes raced over him. “Oh, you poor baby! They said minor injuries. You’re all banged up. You’ve got a bandage. And what is wrong with your hair?”
    “Shut up.” He scrubbed at it.
    “Brad’s parking. You have to go on safari for a parking place in this neighborhood. And they’ve got the front of your house blocked still.”
    “Brad.”
    “I didn’t hear sooner because I turned off my cell by mistake and I wasn’t home, so the paper couldn’t reach me. We didn’t know anything until this morning. Why didn’t you call ?”
    “Brad?” He wasn’t slow, even if he was working on about five minutes’ sleep. “You and Brad? Together? My Brad?”
    “Well, God, it’s not like you were going to sleep with him. And it was completely unplanned. Come on, let me help you sit down.”
    He waved his hands like a traffic cop. “Wait, wait, wait. Am I in Bizzaro World?”
    “It’s not so bizzaro. We’ve known each other for years. We just hooked up, decided to go get something to eat, maybe see a movie, and one thing, another thing.” She grinned, wide and bright. “It was great. ”
    “Shut up! Don’t tell me.” He clamped his hands over his ears, made loud noises with his mouth to block her out. “My brain cannot withstand the data. It’ll implode.”
    “You’re not going to be one of those jerks who’s like, ‘I used to sleep with her so now none of my friends can be interested,’ are you?”
    “What? No.” Was he? “No,” he decided after another minute. “But—”

    “Because we really connected. Now, let me help you . . .” Her face went dreamy, and when Bo followed the direction of her gaze, he spotted Brad coming down the street with the male version of dreamy on his face.
    Bo turned away, hands clamped to his skull. “My head, my head. You guys, my best friends in this life, are about to finish the job that son of a bitch started last night.”
    “Don’t be silly. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re parading in the doorway in your underwear. Ratty underwear. He’s okay,” she called out to Brad.
    “Man, scared ten years off us.” Brad jogged up the steps. “You’re okay? Did you see a doctor? Want us to run you in for X-rays?”
    “I saw a doctor.” He grunted when Brad wrapped his arms around him.
    “We were worried sick, came right over. What about your truck?”
    “Toast.”
    “Damn good truck. What can we do? Want me to leave the car for you? Or we can hang, take you anywhere you need to go.”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t pulled it together yet.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Mandy told him. “You want to stretch out? I can make you something to eat.”
    Despite the fact that he saw their hands sneaking together, Bo realized they were there for him. Just like always. “I’ve got to take a shower, get dressed, clear my head.”
    “Okay, I’ll make breakfast while you do. We’ll both take the day off, right, Brad?”
    “Sure.”
    “And when you come back down,” she added, “we want to know what happened. Everything.”
    R eena rubbed her eyes to clear them, then refocused on her computer screen. “Pastorelli Senior’s been swinging in and out of the system most of his life. Assaults, drunk and disorderly, assault with intent, the arson, petty larceny. There are four questioned-and-released in his file on suspicious fires. Two before the one at Sirico’s, two after hewas released from prison. Last known address is in the Bronx. But his wife’s in Maryland, just outside D.C.”
    “The son’s been working on following in his father’s footsteps,” O’Donnell