Free Snakeskin Shamisen by Naomi Hirahara

since then?
    “Yah, right in the beginning,” he mumbled, focusing his attention back on his food.
    When the last bit of curry had been cleared off each plate, Lil rose. “I’ll make some coffee.”
    Mas stood up to take his dirty dish to the kitchen, but was stopped by Tug.
    “You gonna take my job, Mas?” Tug kidded, taking the plate from Mas’s grasp. He also followed Lil into the kitchen, and Mas found himself awkwardly alone with Stinky. Although Mas didn’t really care how Stinky was, he asked, just to make conversation, “So youzu busy?”
    Stinky took a long sip of his water after picking at his teeth with the side of his thumbnail. “Life’s shit,” he proclaimed. Mas was surprised that he spoke so plainly.
    “Whatchu mean?”
    “I mean, it don’t make sense. A man works hard for his dreams, and what does it get him. Nothing.”
    Stinky wasn’t a philosophical man, so Mas knew that this observation came from something very personal. “Sumptin’ happen?”
    “A new gardener comes into town. Old friend of a friend. Says he knows of a business deal. Will double, triple my money, he says,” Stinky explained. Mas had stopped hanging out at nurseries and lawn mower shops, so he was out of the loop.
    “Japan stocks making a comeback, he claims. If a bunch of us pool our money together, we can buy a lot of shares. Foolproof deal.”
    Mas resisted the impulse to shake his head. There were no foolproof deals, in his experience. Making money meant taking risks, and in both Mas’s and Stinky’s world, they were the ones who were usually on the losing side of the odds. If Mas had been there to hear the scheme, he would have thrown cold water on it—and fast.
    “Some of us were getting returns right away. A guy puts in a thousand, gets five thousand a month later. Pretty soon, all of us want to get in on the action.”
    Mas waited to hear the damage.
    “I lost seven grand. A few other guys got taken for fifteen. None of us can get a hold of the guy now. Phone disconnected. Disappeared in thin air.” Stinky closed his eyes and rubbed his droopy eyelids with his arthritic fingers. “I’m goin’ to get it bad when Bette comes home.”
    Even though Mas was no fan of Stinky, he didn’t wish him any ill will. He was an
aho
to fall for these schemes, but apparently he wasn’t the only one.
    Stinky had said that he had seen Wishbone a month ago and had no contact since then. Stinky and Wishbone had been thick as thieves; it was unusual for them to be apart longer than three days. Something was up, and Mas suspected it was money. “Wishbone in on dis deal?”
    “How did you—” Stinky closed his mouth and nodded his balding head. He was one of those men who combed the few hairs they had over their bare scalp. For most men, it was vanity. In Stinky’s case, he was just too lazy to go to a barber. “He’s been giving me money to hold on to so he’ll qualify to get into a place like Keiro without paying an arm and a leg. I guess he doesn’t trust his own kids. So I thought that I’ll surprise him—you know, double his money.”
    “How much lose?”
    Stinky pulled at his comb-over, revealing his pimply scalp. “Twenty grand.”
    Mas let out a silent whistle.
    “Don’t have the nerve to tell him—especially with him being sick and all.” Stinky lowered his head, and Mas hated to admit that he felt sorry for him.
    As the coffeemaker gurgled in the kitchen and cabinets were opened and closed, Stinky snapped his eyes open again. “Don’t say a word to them. The last thing I need is Mr. and Mrs. Christian to rat me out to Bette.”
    Mas nodded.
    Lil came out with a tray of coffee cups on saucers. Tug carried out the apple pie that Stinky had purchased from Marie Callender’s. “Ready for dessert?” he asked.
    S omehow Mas was able to get through the apple pie and decaf and into bed by ten o’clock. He woke up two times, once at four thirty and then at six. He was more anxious than he could