Rescue

short Latino said, “The environment?“
    Bald white: “Yeah. The oil fires and all those seals and birds.“
    Short Latino: “Seals and birds? I thought he fucked those Kuwait sheik guys?“
    Bald white: “Yeah, but nobody ever cared about it till he killed those animals, man.“
    Tall black: “You got that right, too. Nobody gives a fuck about no sand niggers. You fuck up some seals, though, the “‘hole world be down on your case.“
    White beard: “You know, this was all foretold.“
    Short Latino: “What you saying, man?“
    White beard: “This philosopher, Notra Damus. He, like, Predicted all this shit.“
    Short Latino: “Notra... ?“
    White beard: “Damus, man. Notra Damus, like the footbaj school. Back in 1560, he predicted all this.“
    Bald white: “All what?“
    White beard: “All this“—belch—“conflagration.“
    Short Latino: “Confla…?“
    White beard: “Conflagration, Luis. The world’s like a fireball. He predicted all this shit in four hundred quatrains, like seventy percent of it’s come true.“
    Short Latino: “Quatrains?“
    White beard: “Yeah.“
    Short Latino: “Man, I, like, didn’t know they even had trains back then.“
    White beard: “What?“
    Short Latino: “I thought they was still in stagecoaches.“
    White beard: “Hey, Luis?“
    Short Latino: “Yeah?“
    White beard: “You’re a disgrace to your race, man.“
    Short Latino: “Hey, fuck you, okay?“
    Bald white: “Yeah, and the stagecoach you rode in on.“
    They all started laughing good-naturedly as Dawna brought their food on a tray and distributed the plates with out having to ask who’d ordered what. Then she came back behind the bar and over to me.
    “By the way, thank you a lot for what you did. My last name’s Adair.“
    “Dawna Adair.“
    “Yeah, a lot of people say it fast, think I’m ‘Dawn’ ever instead of ‘Dawna.’ What’s yours?“
    “Francis, John Francis.“
    The gleamy smile and a wink. “I remembered the ‘John’ part. You down here on vacation?“
    “Kind of.“
    “Where’re you staying?“
    “Mercy Lodge.“
    A sour face. “Kind of stuffy, isn’t it?“
    “A little.“
    “You ought to have a local show you the sights.“
    “Actually, I was hoping somebody could tell me something about one of the local sights.“
    “Which one’s that?“
    “The Church of the Lord Vigilant.“
    The tan seemed to wane a bit. “You don’t look the type.“
    “To do what?“
    “To join the Church.“
    “That could be my problem. I haven’t been able to get anybody to tell me about it.“
    The sound of boots coming through the door made both of us turn around, but it was a bunch of six or seven guys I didn’t recognize. She did.
    “Hey, Dawna, how’s it going?“
    “Great. You guys?“
    “Can’t complain.“
    Adair said, “You do, your friends get sad and your enemies get happy.“
    Three or four laughs. “Hey, that’s pretty good.“
    “Sit down, be right with you.“
    They took stools at the end that Jay had occupied.
    Adair leaned over to me. “I’m going to be pretty busy from here on out, Friday night and all.“
    “I understand.“
    She looked at me steadily. “But I get off at two.“
    John Francis said, “For some... sightseeing?“
    “If you’re interested.“
    “Should I come on in?“
    A shake of the head. “Just as soon meet you in the parking lot, so these boys don’t get any ideas of their own.“
    “Two o’clock.“
    Adair turned her face so “the boys“ couldn’t see it, then winked at me again before going down to them.

    I drove north once more to the Padd-Thai, thinking about how I was going to handle my “late date“ with Dawna. I made up my mind, leaving the convertible in a parking lot three times as full as when I’d been there earlier. Owner or not, Dang must have finished her shift or switched to some other task, because a young guy in a Prince John beard was scurrying around inside the kidney-shaped bar enclosure, waiting on what was now a full house except for one empty rattan stool, which I took.
    The band was onstage but between songs, each of them sipping different-colored liquids. There were four of them, Jimmy Hawkins on lead guitar backed up by a bass guitar, drummer, and keyboard. Hawkins had Charles Manson hair and a thousand-yard stare, but when the group launched into the unplugged, ballad version of Eric Clapton’s “Layla,“ you could hear a pin drop in the place. After a roaring ovation, the