Free One of the Wicked: A Mick Callahan Novel by Harry Shannon Page B

wait."
    I gave her a business card. "Mind if I have someone check in on you from time to time? You'll go right past him when you go outside. He is an off-duty cop."
    "Whoa. This is kind of creepy, dude."
    "Just a precaution."
    "All right, as long as he stays out of my way."
    "He will, I promise." I looked up, waved to Lopez and motioned with my hands that I'd filled her in. "Hopefully this will all blow over in a day or two, Brandi. Thanks for indulging us."
    "It's a free country."
    Brandi got up like I'd never existed; walked away briskly, swinging her purse. She walked right by Lopez, who was reading a newspaper, and gave him a quick smile. He wriggled his eyebrows at me, gave her maybe ten yards and picked up the tail.
    Jerry was right. Young Brandi DeLillo had a very nice tail.

Eight

    "I've got good news and bad news," Judd Kramer said.
    My dour agent wasn't generally much for joking around. I felt my stomach tighten. "As long as we're spouting clichés, how about you just cut to the chase." I was pacing outside, sloppily watering my backyard. To the west, the sun was sinking into a bright pool of watercolor smog.
    "Hang on a second."
    He put me on hold. I watered the roses, wrapped up the hose, and plopped down on a lawn chair. Shadows lengthened and a light, welcome breeze whispered through the tall, purple magnolia. My jeans were wet at the shins. Judd had been trying to renegotiate my contract with the station. He'd had lunch with O'Brien, the station manager, and an attorney for the mother ship.
    The music in my ear was an old Beatle's tune that had been cruelly hacked to pieces by some bored arranger and now consisted of insipid electronic strings and bland choral voices. I let the phone rest on my shoulder and struggled to pick a theme for my next show. It crossed my mind to do politics. Maybe offer an examination of the general personality differences between liberals and conservatives. Someone once wrote that conservatives were ruled by fear, liberals by guilt. That the root of liberal was "generosity" and the root of conserve meant "to hoard." It didn't take long to discard the idea; my bias would be far too obvious, but the thought of doing that show with Zack Marks listening made me grin.
    Judd was taking a while. I thought about my options. Did I really want another one-year contract, assuming they offered one? I'd been feeling interfered with lately, pressured by management to shift from what I was comfortable doing to a more traditional talk-show format. That heat was likely to continue. On the other hand, I really needed the money for the mortgage. I wondered how Jerry and Lopez were doing with Brandi, and what was going on with Bud Stone.
    I checked my watch. Five minutes. I don't enjoy playing diva, but the long delay was starting to feel rude.
    If you sit alone and still for a long time, without meditating, you'll start to feel empty. Me, if I don't give my mind something else to eat, it eats itself. I wondered, did I really even want to be a homeowner? Didn't the idea of hopping in my car and driving back to the desert sound good sometimes? Being free enough to do that on a whim? But then I also wanted a family some day. Women don't take too kindly to a vagabond husband, so I wanted to prove I could put down some roots. Is that what this is about, then? Proving something to Darlene, or a woman you haven't even met yet? Pretty weak, Callahan.
    What would you tell a client?
    Judd finally came back on the line. "Sorry about that, Mick. Had to take that call. How did your show go last night?"
    "Pretty well." We made small talk; his kid got in to UCLA and the wife was still mean as a badger with hemorrhoids. I noticed that Judd's speech seemed pressured and tight and that he was much cooler than usual. We circled the issue without tackling it. I got tired of stalling.
    "The lunch, Judd?"
    He sighed. "Which do you want first?"
    "I don't mean to be rude, but let's quit screwing around. Just tell me what's