Joe Burke's Last Stand Part 31

"What's wrong with that?"

"Oh, nothing. We're not getting along right now. I don't like her boyfriend."

"Uh, oh. That's hard," Joe said.

"He's such a creep. I'd get my own apartment but I'm leaving. I've never had an apartment."

"It's fun," Joe said. "Do what you want. But you have to buy a lot of stuff--beds and toasters and things. Actually, I don't even have a bed.

I sleep on a camping mattress."

"I wouldn't mind that," Rhiannon said. "Would you show me your place some time?"

"Sure."

"People should do what they want to," she said fiercely.

"d.a.m.n right--although, it's not so easy sometimes." The more they talked, the more comfortable he felt with her.

"Well," she sighed when they reached her apartment building, "good night, Joe."

"Good night, Rhiannon. See you in the morning?"

"I'll be there."

19

Summer was almost gone. Joe and Rhiannon crossed the boulevard at the Ewa end of Ala Moana park and walked toward the beach. The weather was warm and overcast, for a change. Rhiannon chattered about her upcoming trip to see her father in Connecticut. Joe made his standard suggestion to pack only one carry-on bag. He offered the use of his Filson, but she wanted her own, and, besides, she wasn't sure when she was coming back. They were relaxed with each other--Joe from habit, and Rhiannon from instinct. Sometimes love is easy, he thought. It's just a given, just there. Why deny it? Even so, he was afraid to touch her, to open the door to pain and loss and s.e.xual inadequacy. Old age was coming soon enough; he didn't have to have his nose rubbed in it. An admiring whistle cut through his thoughts.

Three young men were standing by a tree in front of them and to their right. Joe nudged Rhiannon to the left, changing direction, but she would have none of it. She kept her direction and held her head high.

"Right here, Baby!" One of them was slim and tense; two were heavier.

They were eighteen or nineteen, Rhiannon's age. They moved to block the walk. Joe and Rhiannon stopped.

"f.u.c.king haole," one said coming up to them. He pushed Joe hard. Time slowed. Joe sensed Rhiannon reaching into her bag. As Joe stepped back from the shove, the slim one slipped to the side. I'm going down anyway, Joe thought. He held the shover's eyes, smiled slightly, and jammed him under the chin with the heel of his hand, driving him back and turning him. He grabbed at Joe, but Joe drove him face down into the gravel. Joe scrambled sideways and was spinning toward the others when the lights went out.

He came up from a deep hole and opened his eyes. He closed them and opened them again more slowly. Rhiannon was looking into his face. Far above her, a cop was looking down. Joe remembered the young guys. He lifted his head.

"It's O.K., Joe, they're gone." He put his head back down for a moment and then rolled to his side. He stood up with help from Rhiannon. He was bruised and bleeding from a sc.r.a.pe on his cheek, but nothing seemed broken. He let out a breath.

"What happened?"

"I called 911 on my cell phone."

"I was just going by," the cop said. "You lucky."

"They ran when they saw the cruiser," Rhiannon said.

"My partner too fat to catch them," Officer Watanabe said. "You going to be all right?"

"I think so," Joe said, touching the back of his head. He looked at Rhiannon. "Are you O.K.?"

"Yes," she said.

"Did they take anything?"

"No."

"You want to come down to headquarters and try identify them?"

"Kids," Joe said. "I guess not. I should have stayed out of this end of the park."

"Up to you," Officer Wanatabe said. He wrote down their addresses.

"Thanks," Joe said.

"That's what we're here for. We'll hang around, ask a few questions."

Joe and Rhiannon crossed over to the shopping center. He congratulated her on having a cell phone. "I should have had pepper spray," she said angrily. "I'm getting some today."

"I'm going home," Joe said.

" You sure you don't want your face looked at? They kicked you after that one guy hit you with something."

"The little one?"

"He wasn't so little."

"The skinny one?"

"Yeah," Rhiannon said.

"They're the ones you got to watch," Joe said. "I'll go home and clean up, take a couple of aspirin, take it easy."

"I know!" Rhiannon said. "I'll make you dinner." Joe couldn't talk her out of it.

At five o'clock, she was standing at his door holding a grocery bag.

She was wearing square cut black cotton pants and a maroon sweatshirt pushed up on her forearms. Her hair was brushed back. Joe was shocked again at how untouched and beautiful she was. He smelled freshly baked bread.

"Smells good."

"I didn't know how hungry you'd be. I made a quiche. You can warm it up tomorrow if you don't want it."

"Are you kidding?" He led her into the apartment, and she took possession of the kitchen area. "I've got something for you," Joe said.

He handed her a book on Vermeer.