Big Numbers Read Free Page A

playing ghost riders in the sky.
    “If Kelly were my wife,” I say, “I’d want and expect her to take care of herself. I’d want her to know how to handle money. How to talk to accountants, lawyers, and stockbrokers. Heck, Gerry, I’d teach her what she needs to know.”
    Gerry’s bushy eyebrows are now a single line of disapproving fur. I suspect he’s angry at the way I’m playing to his wife. Screw him. I now fully understand what my instincts whispered a few seconds ago; Gerry has terminal cancer. Barring a miracle cure, or black magic, Kelly’s going to end up with all the loot.
    “ What do you think, Kelly?” I say. “Do you think Gerry should turn control of your money to a bank trust department? A group of strangers?”
    “They’re no more strangers than you are,” Gerry says. More of a bark, actually.
    I ignore my monster’s snide remark and watch the redhead. I love the way Kelly takes her time, glancing sideways at Gerry, staring at me, slowly twisting the seven-carat diamond on her ring finger. Checking her hole cards one more time.
    “I think the best thing would be for us to stop worrying about money and concentrate on beating the cancer,” she says. “The doctors say some people survive pancreatic cancer.”
    Sure, Kelly. And somebody wins the Irish Sweepstakes every year, too.
    The pretty redhead reaches for Gerry’s hand. “Let’s forget about money, Gerry. I want to go home.”
    The tender voice, those glistening green eyes…it all seems a bit much. I swear Mrs. Gerry Burns even threw a little sex into that “I want to go home” line. I’ll bet my monster cowboy’s working up a hard-on right now, ready to go home and ride the happy trail between Kelly’s legs.
    I know I am.
    Gerry pushes up from his chair and offers his hand, mumbles a few words about thinking things over, that I’ve made some sense. I don’t pay that much attention because Kelly is giving me a much friendlier farewell. Standing close. Staring into my eyes. Squeezing my hand. There was something electric between us last year, and now, me lost in her neon green eyes, that feeling rushes back. An inexplicable knowledge of mutual destiny. Some kind of bond, a spiritual matching.
    Oh, my. My financial instincts were dead-on, too. I definitely played up to the right person in this duo, the one open to suggestions.
    Walking them into the parking lot’s mid-September sunshine, opening the Cadillac Escalade’s passenger door for Kelly, I wonder what I should suggest next.
     
     

 
    FOUR
     
    Late that afternoon, Luis’s Mexican Grill is empty but for me and my favorite bartender. I watch with a smile as Luis puts the bottle of Herradura Gold in front of me along with a salt shaker, a dish of lime wedges, and two shot glasses. He wants to drink with his favorite customer.
    “Cruz says you again spent the night in our parking lot,” he says.
    Uh, oh. “Truth is, I haven’t found another roost yet, or at least one where they don’t call the cops.”
    Luis smiles at me. “Do not concern yourself. I will tell Cruz we have made an arrangement. But I am worried about your drinking, amigo . It is your business which still troubles you?”
    I’ve never told Luis about my visitation rights being taken away. I’m afraid he’ll think less of me for letting it happen. Bad enough I think less of myself.
    “The hell with my business, Luis.” I lick salt from the back of my hand, down the shot of fermented cactus juice. “I’d rather talk about a woman who came to see me this morning.”
    His bottomless black eyes flicker with interest.
    “She’s a redhead, very attractive,” I say. “And—oh, yes—she’s married.”
    The flicker dies. Luis’s forehead bunches with wrinkles. “Then why would you even desire to discuss her?”
    I shrug. I know my favorite bartender is not going to like this. Hell, he’s appalled already, might even throw me out. I decide to give him the full-boat Carr grin before I toss the