4 Shelter From The Storm Read Online Free PDF Page B

when they’re trying to talk some guy into marrying them. After that it’s ‘I’m tired, honey. Oh, I’m so tired.’ Nobody does business like that.”
    “Mr. Ligi, I was asked to treat you with respect, considering your age, but if you don’t stop breathing in my face I’m going to smash your fucking head up against that windshield. So listen up.”
    Taken aback, Ligi clamped his jaw shut.
    “The thing is, you sign your deed now. You forget about that letter, like it doesn’t exist. When the investors finish the transaction, which should be in a couple of days, you will get your money. I’ll deliver it personally.”
    “And I’m just supposed to trust you?” Ligi shook his head violently.
    The big man’s hand shot out and grabbed Ligi’s nose, fixing it in place. Deliberately, he squeezed and twisted slowly one way, then the other, causing Ligi to squirm and stomp his feet on the carpet.
    “Ow, ow, ow,” he yelped.
    “Mr. Ligi,” the man said, holding him tight, “this ferry is about to dock, and before it does you’re going to sign the documents I brought with me. Then you can go on about your business.”
    Mopping the blood off his upper lip with his handkerchief, Ligi signed his name on the sheets of paper as the were pushed in front of him.
    “These are supposed to be notarized,” he complained.
    “We got a notary.” The stranger folded the papers and put them in his pocket. “You better get back in your car,” he said pleasantly. “We’re there.”
    * * *
    With sirens whooping and street cleaners gobbling debris and hosing down the pavement, the Thoth parade faded away down Magazine Street. That was it for Tubby.
    Walking home after the parade, both weighted down with many, many beads, Collette invited her father to rendezvous with her crowd on Mardi Gras Day. So-and-so was parking a truck at the corner of Third Street and St. Charles, and they would have an ice chest, and everybody could come there and watch Rex and all the trucks. Her sisters, Debbie and Christine, would probably spend part of the day there.
    Maybe, he said, but the idea of staying home, hanging out in the backyard, and listening to the beat of distant drums had a lot of appeal, too.
    “They’re going to bring a grill and barbecue stuff all day,” she said, which made the invitation a lot more tempting. “They’re going to cook hamburgers and sausage and roast some oysters on the grill.” Perhaps he would take a stroll down there after all, if the weather was nice. The forecast, however, said possible showers.
    “It can’t rain on Mardi Gras.” Collette was certain of that.
    “If it does, you’ll just have to think of all the fun we had today.”
    “Right, daddy,” she said and kissed his cheek.
    Opening the wobbly gate, she ran up the walk and waved from the front steps.
    Replaying her parting smile in his mind, Tubby set off on foot toward the house, a smaller one, that was his new home.
    It was about six blocks away— close enough if somebody needed him. It was on a nice street with nice lawns and mostly nice people. Some, you could tell, were a little better off than he was. That thought got him thinking about his money problems. Only a few months ago he had lucked into a small fortune, but, characteristically, he had blown it. Sigh. Specifically, he had let himself be talked into buying Mike’s Bar. It was a great place to hang out with the right sort of people, and he could get all the booze he wanted wholesale, but it didn’t turn a profit. Meanwhile, his law practice was suffering from inattention, and he had lost a few bucks at the track. His bills, tuition and child support for three daughters, were not going away, that’s a fact. And now his oldest daughter, Debbie, was getting married and naturally expected him to pay for the wedding. His suggestion that she elope had been ignored. Tubby unlocked the front door of his house and walked straight through to the kitchen for a beer.
    But, you know,