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off into space over here.”
    “I wasn’t staring off into space.”
    “Yeah, Kemosabe.” He nodded. “Yeah, you
were.”
    I didn’t issue another rebuttal. It occurred
to me that perhaps my earlier self-assessment was in error. Maybe
these days heights did make me seize up after all.
    “So, speaking of lying, are we at least here
to go to lunch like you said when you showed up at my door?”
    “Yeah,” he answered. “Why would I lie about
that?”
    “You tell me? It wouldn’t be the first time
you’ve used a free meal as a carrot to get me somewhere.”
    “C’mon, man, I told ya’ already. This is my
day off.”
    “I seem to recall you once telling me that
you are never really off duty,” I reminded him.
    “Jeez, what are you, a freakin’ tape
recorder?”
    I merely chuckled in reply.
    “Yeah,” he continued. “Maybe so, but even
when I’ve done that to ya’, I didn’t screw ya’ over on the
deal.”
    “You sure about that?”
    “Hell yes.” He waved his index finger in the
air to punctuate his comment. “I know for a fact that I still
bought chow.”
    “I wasn’t talking about the meal,” I said as
we began walking along the inclined parking lot toward the
glassed-in elevator enclosure.
    He ignored the comment. “Well, to be
honest, I do have somethin’ else I wanna do while we’re here, now
that ya’ mention it. I need to hit The
Third Place after we eat.” He offered the name of the
tobacco shop we both frequented with what could have easily passed
for reverence. “You good with that?”
    “Yeah.” I gave him a nod. “I need to
have Patrick order me some more CAO MX Two’s anyway. It’ll save me a
call.”
    “You and those damn double maduros,” my
friend muttered.
    “What’s wrong with MX Two’s?”
    “Too strong, white man,” he told me.
    “Hey, I like what I like.”
    “Yeah,” he said as he tugged open the door to
the glass enclosure and motioned for me to go through. “I just wish
you’d like somethin’ else.”
    I shook my head as I entered the somewhat
air-conditioned waiting area. “What does it matter?”
    His matter-of-fact reply came as he followed
me through the door. “‘Cause I don’t like ‘em.”
    “So?” I queried, stabbing the call button for
the elevator then looking at him with a puzzled expression. “You
aren’t the one smoking them.”
    “Exactly,” he replied. “So if you don’t smoke
the ones that I like, then it makes it kinda hard for me to bum
them off ya’ now doesn’t it?”
    “Ohhh, now I get it.” I nodded slowly. “You
want me to smoke something you like so you don’t have to buy
any.”
    “Damn straight,” he chuckled. “Cigars are
expensive.”
    “So quit.”
    My friend looked back at me like I had
suddenly grown an extra head. “Yeah, right. I already told ya’ once
today ta’ quit yankin’ my chain.”
    A sickly electromechanical ding announced the
arrival of the elevator car. The signal was followed by the scrape
and groan of the doors parting down the center with a moment’s
hesitation then sliding laboriously open. Looking through the
widening gap, we could see the car still in motion as it rose the
last few inches and then halted with a clunk and a shudder.
    “Oh yeah,” Ben announced. “This looks real
safe.”
    “You want to take the stairs?” I queried.
    “I’m thinkin’ maybe yeah,” he replied.
    “The stairs are outside.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    I held my arms out and glance around. “Hot
out there, cool in here. Well, cooler anyway.”
    “Lemme see… Hot or splattered? Hot or
splattered?” He motioned with his hands as if he were physically
weighing the two options. “Considering the conversation we just
had, I’m not all about splattered if ya’ know what I mean. Elevator
or not.”
    “I’m with you on that one.”
    He stepped back toward the glass door of the
waiting area and tugged it open. At that moment, as if cued by some
unseen director, our ears were met with what had to