Repairman Jack [07]-Gateways Read Free Page A

bulging waistline as if he had a belly ache. “Like ladling concrete into the arteries.”
    “Probably.”
    “And to me you brought them?”
    The two of them flanked the scarred rear counter of Abe’s store, the Isher Sports Shop, Jack on the customer side, Abe across from him, perched like Humpty Dumpty on a stool. Jack made a show of looking around at the dusty cans of tennis balls, the racquets, the basketballs and hoops, footballs and Rollerblades along with their attendant padding shoved helter skelter onto sagging shelves lining narrow aisles. Bikes and SCUBA gear hung from the ceiling. If the Collyer brothers had been into sporting goods instead of newspapers, this is what their place might have looked like.
    “You see anyone else around?”
    “We’re not open yet. I should see no one.”
    “There you go.” Jack pointed to the donuts. “Come on. What are you waiting for?”
    “This is a trick, right? You’re trying to pull one over on your old friend. You brought them for Parabellum.”
    As if in response to his name, Abe’s little blue parakeet peeked out from behind a neon-yellow bicycle safety helmet, spotted the donut box, and hopped across the counter to it.
    Jack spoke around a mouthful of donut. “Absolutely not.”
    Parabellum cocked his head at the donuts, then looked up at Jack.
    “Better not deny him,” Abe warned. “He’s a fierce predator, that Parabellum. A raptor in disguise, even.”
    “Oh, right.” Jack tore off a tiny piece and tossed it to the bird, who leaped on it.
    “What happened to the fat-free Entenmann’s and the low-fat cream cheese?”
    “We’re taking a vacation from all that.”
    Abe rubbed his belly again. “Nu ? I shouldn’t be worried about my heart? You want I should die before my time?”
    “Jesus, Abe. Can we have one breakfast without you complaining? If I bring in low-cal stuff, you bitch. So here I bring the kind of stuff you always say you wish you were eating instead, and you accuse me of trying to kill you.”
    Abe was past sixty and his weight ran in the eighth-of-a-ton range, which wouldn’t have been so bad if he were six-eight; but he missed that by a foot, maybe more. Jack had become concerned last year about his oldest and dearest friend’s potential lack of longevity and had been trying to get him to lose weight. His efforts had not engendered an enthusiastic response.
    “Such a crank he is this morning.”
    Abe was right. Maybe he was feeling a little short. Well, he had his reasons.
    “Sorry,” Jack said. “Look at it this way: Think of them as a going-away present.”
    “Going? I’m going somewhere?”
    “No, I am. To Florida. Don’t know how long I’ll be there so I figured I’d pre-load you with some calories to tide you over.”
    “Florida? You want to go to Florida? In September? In the middle of the worst drought they’ve had in decades?”
    “It’s not a pleasure trip.”
    “And the humidity. It seeps into your pores, heads for the brain, makes you meshugge . Water on the brain—it’s not healthy.”
    “Swell.” Jack drummed his fingers on the counter. “Eat a damn donut, will you.”
    “All right,” Abe said. “If you insist. A bisel .”
    He picked one, took a bite, and rolled his eyes. “Things should not be allowed to taste this good.”
    Jack had a second donut while he told Abe about his brother’s call.
    “I’m sorry to hear this,” Abe said. “This is why you’re so cranky? Because you don’t want to see him?”
    “I don’t want to see him like that…in a coma.”
    Abe shook his head. “First your sister, and now…” He looked up at Jack. “You don’t think…?”
    “The Otherness? I hope not. But with the way things have been going lately, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
    After hanging up with Tom last night he’d called the hospital and learned that his father was stable but still on the critical list. He got directions from the airport, then tried to watch a movie. He’d started a Val