Free See You Tomorrow by Tore Renberg Page B

end of the line.
    ‘It’s Americano, brother,’ he answers, laughing.
    ‘Whatever, it’s stupid, you’re from Norway, from Rogaland, from Stavanger, from Tjensvoll. Don’t put on an act. Now listen, I’ve just been doing some thinking about this venture of ours,’ says Jan Inge.
    ‘Thoughts are free, what were you thinking?’
    ‘Well,’ Jan Inge says, wavering. ‘There’s something foggy about it.’
    ‘Foggy?’
    ‘Yeah, foggy.’
    ‘Okay?’
    ‘I’m dubious. I’ve got a nose for this kind of thing. We’re not exactly in a risk-free line of business.’
    ‘Okay. Will we call it off? Callitaday and pull out? I haven’t met him yet—’
    ‘Listen. Working in a risky business means taking risks. You go and meet the guy. But keep your eyes and ears open. Your objective has to be to clarify what’s foggy.’
    ‘That was nicely put,’ says Rudi.
    ‘That thing you said about remembering the guy, or wondering if you remembered him. What was that?’
    ‘Dunno, just the feeling I got when he called. Or the feeling he got. I don’t know. There was something old about it.’
    ‘Old?’ Jan Inge’s tone is sharp.
    ‘Yeah, old, as in the past.’
    ‘Hm. Old can be good and old can be a mess. Is there anyone who’s got something on you?’
    ‘Naah…’
    ‘Stay on your toes. Keep Chessi out of it. She can wait in the Volv—’
    Shit!
    What was that?
    ‘Hey Chessi, what the fu—’
    ‘Rudi?’
    ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m here, it’s just, hold on –
bollocks
– did we hit something? Chessi?’
    Cecilie peers out the back window, Rudi slows down and Jani Inge shouts down the end of the line about how he needs to take it easy, he can’t be going around attracting attention, Jesus, can’t he do anything right, hello, what’s happening?
    ‘A cat!’ Cecilie cries.
    Rudi gulps and breathes easier.
    ‘Just a cat,’ he says into the phone.
    ‘Just a cat?!’ he hears from the back seat. Rudi glances in the rear-view mirror and sees that she’s crying again, and he wonders when this is going to end. Is he going to have to live with this until he’s six feet under, is she going to be so difficunt for the rest of her life?
    ‘Sorry, Jani,’ he says, ‘it was just a cat.’
    He can hear Jan Inge breathing heavily.
    ‘You sit yourself down again now,’ says Rudi calmly.
    ‘Right, will do,’ says Jan Inge. ‘Okay, talk to you later, get things sorted out. Keep your eyes open. Ears. Fog and clarity.’
    Rudi nods, hears the sound of his best friend putting his inhaler to his mouth, pressing down and sucking in the acrid air. He can picture that fat boy so well it almost hurts.
    ‘Okay, brother, talk soon. You sit down, okay? Pick a classic and open a packet of crisps.
The Hills Have Eyes?
’
    Rudi hangs up and indicates a left turn. He swings in by the little shop at the bottom of the hill that’s been there as long as he can remember. He pilfered that place empty throughout theentire eighties. Remembers the time he and J-J-Janne D-D-Dobro sauntered out with so many packs of cigarettes in the pockets of their bubble jackets they thought they’d keel over with the weight. Janne Dobro had such black eyes she’d put you in mind of a bird. She’s probably selling
Asfalt
magazine now. Liked her heroin, Janne. She was called J-J-Janne D-D-Dobro because of Mini from Haugtussa, he was so small his father took offence every time he clapped eyes on him. Mini was so in love with Janne Dobro he started to stutter every time he saw her.
    Used to be called Gosen Grocery Store, now it’s part of a chain, Spar. Everything’s going to the dogs. The socialists have won. An impersonal society. It’s true what Jani says, nobody dares run their own business any more. We’re the only ones. The last bastion of independent entreprenuers. But Rudi doesn’t park outside the shop, it’s too visible. He drives a little further on towards the woods, up a small back road, and brings the car to a halt in a little