Chasing a Blond Moon(16)

Service watched them embrace. “We’ll come get you Friday night.”

“Cool by me,” Walter said.

Nantz poked Service in the back. He held out his hand. Walter shook it, his grip like a limp fish.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Nantz said on their way down the stairs.

“No problem,” Service said. “What kind of fucking English is that?”

“Nouveau cool,” Nantz said. “That girl is gorgeous. They’re together. Did you pick up on that?”

Service didn’t want to think about it. His first girlfriend in college had been Paige Quatrine, from St. Paul, Minnesota. In those days the university had separate dorms for male and female students. He copped a rink key from an equipment manager and early Sunday mornings used to take Paige to the equipment room, which had a bed and a shower, both of which they used regularly for nearly six months. The relationship never grew. It was strictly about sex and eventually Paige had drifted off with a senior mining student, married him after her freshman year, and moved to Alaska.

“Wouldn’t it be something if we just met Walter’s future wife?” Nantz said.

“Rein it in,” Service said.

That night in their bed Nantz lay with her arms wrapped around his neck, snuggling close. “You did pretty good today,” she said.

“He was pissed at me.”

“It’s just a bump in the road. He’s glad you made the decision.”

“How could you tell?”

“I just could, and eventually you will too.”

“He had already delayed our getting to Betty’s. Was I supposed to take him to lunch while we talked?”

“Remember, his mother felt left out by your focus on the job. She probably told him about it, so he’s trying to find out where he fits into your priorities.”

“At the top,” he said.

“Just keep remembering that,” she said, giving him a lingering wet kiss and sliding out from under the covers.

“Where are you going?”

“To pull my cork,” she said. “I started my period last night.”

When she got back under the covers she said, “Now, where were we?”

After making love she went back into the bathroom, brought out a warm washcloth and handed it to him. “It freaked me out, that old man smelling my period.”

“He was just playing with your mind.”

“I don’t think he plays, Grady. He gave me the creeps.”

He knew better than to argue with her feelings.

“You want to go again?” she asked.

“No problem,” he said, running his hand up her leg.

“You,” she said, pressing against him, adding, “I’m not kidding about Trapper Jet, Grady. I don’t trust him at all.”





3

Walter had been at the college three days and had not called home, which bugged Grady Service. He had gone into Gladstone to gas up his truck at the Happy Rock Shell station, and when he pulled into the driveway he saw Maridly Nantz and Nathaniel “She-Guy” Zuiderveen sitting on the back steps, talking animatedly. Their dog, Newf, was pushed up close to the man, demanding noogies. The dog was a female Canary Island mastiff, a breed developed in Spain to protect cattle and known there as Presa Canario. She was one hundred thirty pounds and all muscle, but she looked like a lap dog against the man petting her. Zuiderveen was a retired state trooper and three-year offensive tackle for the Miami Dolphins. He was dressed in his signature costume: form-fitting black jumpsuit, above-the-knee black leather boots with three-inch heels (which made him six-foot-nine), gaudy leather Dolphins jacket, and a sequined baseball cap proclaiming PROUD TO BE A SISSY.

“You hitting on my woman, Nathaniel?” Service greeted the man.

Zuiderveen grinned. “I’ve got enough people wanting to kick my ass.”

“With those boots, they’d need a stepladder,” Service said. “Is this social or business? I expected you’d be gearing up for the season.” Zuiderveen had retired from the state police, begun dressing like a woman, and had become a bear outfitter. People were unsure of his sexuality and called him “She-Guy,” but always behind his back. At six-foot-six and two-fifty, he was an imposing figure with a legendary temper and strength to match. Despite his eccentricities he was considered one of the top guides in the Upper Peninsula, booked two years in advance. Grady Service had known him for ten years.

“How’s the season shaping up?” Service asked.

Zuiderveen shrugged and moved his hand away from Newf, who immediately poked his hand with her massive snout, demanding continued attention. “Probably be okay,” the bear guide said.