Free As she rides by by David M Pierce

three feet by four and that you find mostly in bars, while Phineas, close by, perused a slim volume that was not only a play but in French, too, if you can believe it. He did have to look up a word once, though, I noticed. King dozed the while at my feet. From time to time the phone tinkled. I’d suggested I answer all calls, just in case one came from Phil or Ted, so I did, but none did.
    Before retiring, we had a brief discussion of where I should sleep. Now, now, I didn’t mean it that way, I meant would it be smarter for me and King of the frozen north to curl up on a mattress outside Phineas’s bedroom door or, say, sleep on the couch downstairs, or crouch under the lilac bushes out back all night. In any case, I wasn’t happy.
    “I’m not happy,” I said.
    “About what?”
    “About being sitting ducks,” I said. “About being on the defensive generally. We’ve got to make some decisions.”
    “Goody goody,” he said. “Nothing I like better.” He yawned, closed his book, got up to put it on the shelf he’d taken it from, then collapsed into his chair again.
    “You’re just too vulnerable,” I said. “That is your problem, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
    “Well!” he exclaimed. “Hath not a gay eyes, hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? If you prick us, do we not bleed?”
    “Quote those Froggy playwrights all you like,” I said. “I mean your store-boom. Your abode, likewise. Your car. You, despite my close attendance. It’s impossible for one man, no matter who, to cover you as you whirl from hither to yon if the opposition is really determined. All right, blowing up your oh-so-humble boutique might not put you on crutches, especially if you weren’t in it, but it might frighten you.”
    “How little they know,” he said.
    “OK,” I said, “but so they might think. What I’ve been thinking of is how can we ensure that you and your real estate and your employees, for that matter, remain in one piece until Wednesday noon.”
    “If I did take a trip,” he said after a moment’s thought, “that would ensure it.”
    “Exactly,” I said. “But you don’t want to take a trip to anywhere but the courthouse downtown. But what if they thought you were going on a long, long trip? Wednesday morning, say? And then you actually appeared to?”
    “Voilà!” he said, blowing a kiss my way. “Know what? I bet this is the place where we all gather ‘round, then you say to us, ‘Now here’s my plan, gang.’ ”
    “Now here’s my plan, gang,” I said. “So gather ‘round.”
    King and I wound up sleeping in the spare bedroom, with the door open, me on chocolate-colored silk sheets, he under the bed. I thought it safe enough; there was no point in Phil and Ted getting violent unless they absolutely had to, because of the risk involved, so it made sense for them to wait until the last minute, or close to it, anyway.
    As it happened, the night passed peacefully. King woke me up early the following morning to be let out. I let him out. When I let him in again, Phineas put in an appearance wearing a bathing suit that consisted of a piece of string and an eye patch, the kind of wardrobe muscle builders wear to perform in. He took one look at me in my jockey shorts, shook his head sadly, then said, “Follow me, if you dare.” I put aside the morning paper I was perusing.
    “Lead on, McBuff,” I said. I followed him down beside the small pool to a wooden cabana which contained a junk room for gardening tools and pool cleaning equipment and deck chairs and two surfboards, then next to it a workout room, with assorted weights and dumbbells and a bicycle exerciser, and next to that, a sauna. We worked out, then We saunaed, then we swam, then we ate—healthily, except for the strong espresso—then we went upstairs to attire ourselves. Phineas teappeared wearing, among other natty items, a white leather cap pulled raffishly down over one eye, and huge, wraparound