Free The Unexpected Salami: A Novel by Laurie Gwen Shapiro Page B

precious cargo with him—The Silver Surfer was safe. The three of us went out for lunch at the local Greek coffee shop.
    “So let me get this straight,” Frank said, taking a sip of ice water. “The head of the morgue pretended you were dead?”
    “Yeah,” Stuart said, grabbing a roll.
    “This guy Colin has goddamn chutzpah.”
    “New York for audacity,” I translated.
    “What’s audacity?” Stuart asked.
    “Fucking nerve,” I tried again. That got a small smile from Mr. Gibbs. “What do you want, Stuart?” Frank said when the waitress came over.
    Stuart looked nervous again. His eyes were watery. “Your call.”
    Oh, right. He couldn’t read the menu. At home, he could have faked it by ordering a basic Australian standby, like a hamburgertopped with a fried egg. “You can get a great cheeseburger here,” I said, a shield for further embarrassment.
    “Nah,” Frank said. “I know. We’ll have three
cold turkey
sandwiches.”
    Stuart again raised the slightest corner of his mouth, John Lennon–style. Frank was breaking through, talking to Stuart like a regular Australian mate, ignoring the sheila, the woman,
me
, at the table.
    “Man, that was some crap you pulled on my sister.”
    “Rachel wasn’t part of it.”
    “How can you say that? You see how out of whack she is. The way I see it, bro, she’s an accomplice if she doesn’t turn you in. I think my sister’s pretty fucking nice offering to help you out—”
    “Yeah, well—”
    “Pity you’re splitting town. We could’ve saved your ass. My best friend’s cousin went cold turkey last year. I know how it’s done.”
    Frank had pulled the one-armed bandit and come up with three cherries. Stuart took the bait. “Where’s your friend’s cousin now?”
    “It was rough. But he’s off the shit. Started his life over. Think he even has a job now. At a magazine. Rachel, what’s that magazine Tim’s at?”
    I never even met Tim. “
Life
.”
    “He works for
Life
?”
    “Yeah,” Frank said, with a frown that said I should have picked a more reasonable life jump, like
Guitar World
.
    Gold at the end of the strung out rainbow. Why were we feeding him this? We wanted this so badly?
    “We could use my place for you to chill,” Frank offered.
    Suddenly Frank was caught up in my plan. I wished I knew what it was. I felt like we were side characters in a
Mod Squad
episode, Frank’s favorite show when we were kids. He even had the metal lunchbox. Frank looked at my hands. I was torturing my knuckles again, pulling fingers back until they almost broke off. He gave me a “stop that” head motion. “Rachel, is there anyone else you trust? We would need to take shifts. I’d have Brice help us, but he’s back in London.”
    “There’s Janet. She’s discreet.”
    “I don’t know about a chick watching me eat meself up.” Stuart tapped out a hesitant rhythm on the counter.
    Frank ribbed me under the table. He was reeling the fish in. Lucky us. “You’ll like Janet,” Frank said. “Unlike Rachel’s other friends, she’s not a motormouth.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Great ass,” Frank said. “Janet’s ni-iicce.”
    “Right, send her over.” Stuart leaned over toward him. “I’m going to need your help, man.” Aussies don’t say man, they say mate; that stereotype holds true. This male bonding was obscene.
    When Stuart went to the bathroom, I leaned over to Frank. “Do you have to bring yourself down to his level?”
    “It worked, right? I know how men think.”
    When Stuart returned, the three of us agreed that we would get the Ganelli detox unit rolling in two days. Frank promised Stuart that he would take him down to Clinton Street to secure last-hurrah smack for the evening. My job was to prevail upon Janet to join our Florence Nightingale junkie crusade.
    “Hi, bit of banana in my mouth, sorry,” Janet said.
    “Yo, dig the fruit-in-cheek greeting,” I said, and I meant it; answering the phone like that was out of