Island of the Sequined Love Nun

camouflaged Land Rover. It was much more car than was required for the Houston expressway, but Jake was into equipment overkill. Everything he owned was Kevlar, Gor-Tex, Polarfleece, titanium alloy, graphite-polymer composite, or of "expedition quality." He liked machines, understood how they worked, and could fix them if they didn't. Sometimes he spoke in an incomprehensible alphabet soup of SRAM, DRAM, FORTRAN, LORAN, SIMMS, SAMS, and ROM. Tuck, on the other hand, knew most of the words to "Mommas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys" and could restore burned toast to new by scraping off the black stuff.
    Of the two, Jake was the cool one. Tucker had always found being cool a little elusive. As Jake put it, "You've got the look, but you can't walk the walk or talk the talk. Tucker, you are a hopeless geek trapped in a cool guy's body, but out of the goodness of my heart, I will take you on as my student." They'd been friends for four years. Jake had taught Tuck to fly.
    "He'll be fine. He's a jock," Jake shouted over the buffeting wind. He hadn't bought a top for the Land Rover, opting instead for the Outback package with the "patented rhinoceros poking platform."
    "He was just a kid. He was reading the Bible."
    "He would have ripped my arms off if I'd let him."
    Tuck nodded. That was probably true. "Where are we going?"
    "The airport. Everything you need is in that pack in the back."
    Tucker looked into the back of the Rover. There was a large backpack. "Why?"
    "Because if I don't get you out of the country right now, you're going to jail."
    "Mary Jean said she had that handled. Said her lawyers were on it."
    "Right, and I go around smacking kids with beer bottles for recreation. The hooker filed a civil suit this morning. Twenty million. Mary Jean has to throw you to the wolves to save her own ass. She has to let the court prove that you fucked up all on your own. I grabbed your passport and some clothes when I got your mail."
    "Jake, I can't just take off like this. I'm supposed to see a doctor tomorrow."
    "For what?"
    Tuck pointed to the lump of bandages in his lap. "What do you think? He's supposed to take this damn tube out of me."
    "We'll do it in the bathroom at the airport. There's some antibiotics in the first-aid kit in the pack. I confirmed you for a flight to Honolulu that leaves in an hour. From there you go to Guam, then to someplace called Truk. That's where this doctor is supposed to meet you. I've got it all written down. There was an e-mail address at the bottom of the letter. I sent him a message to expect you tomorrow."
    "But my car, my apartment, my stuff."
    "Your apartment is a pit and I put your stuff worth keeping in a ministorage. I've got the pink slip for your Camaro. Sign it over to me. I'll sell it and send you the money."
    "You were pretty fucking sure I'd want to do this."
    "What choice do you have?"
    Jake parked the Land Rover in short-term parking, shouldered the pack, and led Tucker into the international terminal. They checked the pack and found a rest room near Tucker's departure gate.
    "I can do this myself," Tucker said.
    Jake Skye was peering over the door into the stall where Tucker was preparing to remove his bandages and, finally, the catheter. A line of businessmen washed their hands at a line of lavatories while trying not to notice what was going on behind them in the stall.
    "Just yank it," Jake Skye said.
    "Give me a minute. I think they tied a knot inside it."
    "Don't be a wuss, Tucker. Yank it."
    The businessmen at the sinks exchanged raised eyebrows and one by one broke for the rest room door.
    Jake said, "I'm going to give you to five, then I'm coming over the stall and yanking it for you. One, two…"
    A rodeo cowboy at the urinals hitched up his Wranglers, pulled his hat down, and made a bowlegged beeline for the door to get on a plane to someplace where this sort of thing didn't happen.
    "Five!"
    Security guards rushed through the terminal toward the screaming. Someone was being murdered in the men's room and they were responsible. They burst into the rest room with guns drawn. Jake Skye was coiling up some tubing by the sinks. There was whimpering coming from one of the stalls. "Everything's fine, officers," Jake said. "My friend's a little upset. He just found out that his mother died."
    "My mother's not dead!" Tucker said from the stall.
    "He's in denial," Jake whispered to the guards. "Here, you better take this," He handed the tubing to one of the