Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [134]
It was typical Johnny. His drunken attempt last night to seduce Susan Berman was a thing of the past, to be forgotten and forgiven.
“We need to talk,” Kerney said as he led Johnny away from the cast to the rear of one of the equipment trucks.
“Why so serious?” Johnny asked
“You’re getting out of hand with Susan Berman, and you need to leave her alone.”
Johnny grinned. “Why? Do you want her for yourself?”
“I’ll forget you said that. Just ease off, Johnny. You’re making her very uncomfortable.”
Johnny smirked. “Roll your own, amigo. Berman is number one on my hit list and I aim to nail her.”
“What does it take to get you to listen? Stop coming on to Susan. She isn’t interested in you.”
“Look,” Johnny said, “if you need to get some action from the ladies while your wife is overseas, that’s cool with me. Just find somebody else to shag. There’s some tasty talent here.”
“Don’t get personal, Johnny.”
Johnny glared and struck a cocky pose. “You want personal? I’ve got a DWI hanging over my head in Santa Fe because you wouldn’t do a damn thing to help me out. Now you come around all puffed up with an attitude because of a skirt you want to jump on. What a joke. You’ve always been a loser when it comes to women, Kerney. I bet you were the only guy in our high school crowd who didn’t get into my sister’s pants.”
“You’re unbelievable.” It made no sense to explain to Johnny the concepts of family loyalty, respect for women, or true friendship. Without thinking he slugged Johnny hard under the left eye.
Johnny hit the deck and bounced against the bumper of the truck. Slowly, he staggered to his feet and shook his head to clear away the cobwebs.
Kerney rubbed his unclenched fist. “I wasn’t going to do that. Now do I have your full attention?”
Johnny closed his eye and gingerly touched his face. “If you want Susan Berman that bad, she’s yours.”
“Good. You might want to put an ice pack on that eye before it swells up.”
That night, after Patrick had been tucked into bed, Kerney sat on the lawn outside the apartment. At the ballpark the stadium lights were on, and a crew was busy putting the finishing touches on the set for the concert sequence. Crickets chirped and a slight breeze slid through the trees, bringing the faint yelp of a distant coyote. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned just as Susan Berman sat down by his side.
“Did you really punch Johnny in the face?” she asked with a smile.
“Did he tell you that?”
Susan nodded.
“I refuse to admit any wrongdoing whatsoever.”
Susan laughed. “Why did you do it?”
“It was the only way I could get him to listen.”
She leaned forward slightly and searched Kerney’s face in the dim light that cascaded up from the ballpark. “You’re a good man, Kevin Kerney, and if your marital circumstances were different, I wouldn’t mind at all having you as my champion.”
She kissed him on the cheek, said good-night, and hurried toward the ball field.
Warmed by Susan’s compliment and ladylike expression of interest, Kerney sat quietly for a moment before retreating to the apartment. At the kitchen table he opened the laptop and surfed the Web, looking for the latest news from Iraq. Five more soldiers had been killed in combat. It brought back memories of the dead and dying Kerney had seen in Vietnam. Sara’s face flashed through his mind with images of her killed or maimed. It made him shudder.
Slowly, the images swam away. With his fingers poised over the keyboard Kerney considered what to write to his beautiful wife. He thought about the long, elegant line of her neck, her flashing green eyes, the freckles on the bridge of her nose, the graceful way she moved. Suddenly, with an unaccustomed ease, he found himself composing a love letter.
The next day, after dropping Patrick off at the nanny’s, Kerney rendezvoused with Leo in Lordsburg. At five in the afternoon he was on-station at the Sentinel Butte Ranch with Leo, sitting in a brand-new four-wheel-drive