Honky Tonk Samurai (Hap and Leonard) Read Free Page A

had a bit of money tucked away and were what you might call almost comfortable. Redneck jobs are frequently short on career potential. You do one till you tire or get fired, and then you move on. We had moved on a lot.
    Leonard’s apartment was a kind of loft with a partition for the bedroom and the bathroom. The landlord was letting him build some new walls for some of the rent. Work he had to have done by a certain time. Leonard decided to hire someone to do it. It was not cheaper than the rent reduction, but it gave him a nicer place to live, and in time it would even out. There was talk of the landlord applying the rent toward a sale. The owner was old and tired of property and renters, and Leonard wanted to buy.
    Leonard had been living there for only a short time, staying at our place a lot until some of the work on the place was done. Before that, he lived at our house full-time. We even had a room built onto it. I loved him—dearly—and so did Brett, but I must be honest: I was glad he wasn’t there all the time anymore. Brett and I were happy empty nesters. We could have more time to ourselves, and we didn’t have to be quiet when we were playing doctor, and my vanilla-cookie-and-Dr-Pepper budget would go down dramatically. This would also help Leonard’s waistline. He loved those vanilla cookies and Dr Peppers severely, but he loved them even more when he didn’t have to buy them. I think he saw eating my cookies and soft drinks as an accomplishment of great importance and took it as a matter of pride.
    It had turned hot by the time we got out of the vet’s, and it was only ten thirty or so. The sun lay down on us like a coat of heated chain mail.
    When we got to mine and Brett’s house and came in with the dog, Brett was home from her nursing job. She had quit nursing several times but was so good at what she did that she always got hired back. She looked tired but pretty, her red hair tied back in a ponytail. She said, nodding at the dog, “So we’re having company for dinner? And I don’t mean Leonard.”
    “Hey. I make good company,” Leonard said. “What are we having?”
    “Whatever you’re buying,” Brett said.
    “Oh,” Leonard said. “That limits things.”
    I looked down at the dog. “This is our true guest. This is … well, I don’t know who this is.”
    “Follow you home?” she asked.
    “Not exactly.”
    “Your new dog, Leonard?” she asked.
    Leonard roved an eye my way. “Could be,” he said. “Could be yours.”
    “Can I have her?” I said. I tried to sound winsome and wistful at the same time. Actually, I’m not sure which part of how I sounded was wistful and which part was winsome. Maybe you can’t do both at the same time. Maybe one sounds a lot like the other.
    “Will you throw a hissy if the answer is no?” Brett said.
    “Probably.”
    “Oh, he can throw a grown-up big-ass cracker-style hissy,” Leonard said. “I’ve seen him do it, and I got to tell you, I was embarrassed. It wasn’t very manly.”
    “I can try throwing the hissy in a deep voice,” I said.
    “Nope,” Leonard said. “That’s not how a hissy works.”
    “First how about telling me how we’ve come by a dog?” Brett asked.
    We all ended up around the table, the dog lying at my feet, and I told her while we all had glasses of ice tea.
    “I can’t believe people like that,” Brett said. “This dog looks like a lover, not a biter.”
    “I don’t think she’s old enough to know what she is,” I said.
    “Well, I like dogs,” Brett said.
    The doorbell rang. I answered it. It was Marvin Hanson.
    “So,” I said as he came in. “Hello to the police chief who didn’t tell us he was the police chief.”
    He sat at the table, and I sat down again. He leaned over to give the dog a pat on the head. “Nice dog.”
    “Police chief?” Brett said.
    “Yep,” Marvin said. “You know, that man might want this dog back, and I’m not sure how that will work out in court. He’s going