Page 85 of Tito

“Knowing when not to speak is the mark of an intelligent man.” I quipped.

“The Old Man must be a damned fool,” Braxton interjected. “Because he never shuts his mouth.”

“I’m going to suggest a change to our seating arrangement,” Hap said in a flat tone. “You move over by Braxton and Reggie moves where you are, beside me.”

“I like that idea,” Reggie said.

Our seating arrangement wasn’t etched in stone, and I realized it. Nevertheless, making changes would irritate me to no end. Had Reggie originally been seated between Hap and me, I would have been fine with it.

Because she sat between Braxton and me, that’s where I expected her to stay.

I glanced at each of them. “I don’t.”

“Why not?” Hap asked. “I have a hell of a lot more in common with her than I do with you. if you swap spots, I won’t have to look around you every time I’m trying to talk to her. It’s annoying, to be honest.”

I gave Hap a cross look. “I annoy you?”

“When I’ve got to try and look through you to talk to the only living soul on this porch that has a reasonable head on upon her shoulders, yes.”

“Reggie’s the only one on this porch worth talking to?”

Hap gave a nod. “Until someone else arrives that’s more intelligent or entertaining, yes.”

“Fine.” I stood. “Swap seats with me, Reggie.”

Giddy with Hap’s suggested seating arrangement, Reggie took my seat. She faced Hap. “How’s the weather over here?” she asked with a laugh.

“Much better than it is at the other end of the porch, I can tell you that much,” Hap said. “Kind of stuffy down there, if you ask me.”

“I like it down here, too,” Reggie said. “Age trumps beauty.”

“What?” Hap leaned away and gave her a look. “You think he’s better looking than me?”

Reggie flashed her award-winning smile. “I like the way he looks, but I like your way of thinking.”

Hap leaned forward. “Another reason to have her down here is that I get along with women more than men. It’s effortless. It comes naturally. Always has.”

“It doesn’t bother you to look around her to talk to me?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Not in the least.”

“Getting along with women comes naturally?” Braxton laughed out loud. “You and mom bickered all day, every day,”

“Nothing but playful antics,” Hap replied. “That’s one of the problems with today’s society. Everyone is far too goddamned serious. People need to learn how to let loose. We need to bring back the 1970’s. Hell, everyone was happy back then.”

“Tell that to all the protestors that were on the news every night,” Braxton chided.

“That was fake news,” Hap said dryly. “More propaganda.”

“Sounds like you and the POTUS agree on one thing,” Braxton said with a laugh. “Neither of you like the news.”

Hap flipped Braxton the bird.

Braxton returned the gesture.

Still holding his weathered finger sky-high, Hap appeared to have an epiphany. He shot from his seat and faced the group. “Speaking of the news, did you see where that guy from channel five drove his car off the edge of the cliff on Mulholland?”

I hadn’t heard a word from Braxton about the matter since we last spoke in Mel’s home. At that point in time, the guy from channel five didn’t look like he could have driven a car anywhere, let alone down the winding lanes of the infamous Mulholland Drive.

“I didn’t hear anything about it,” I said straight-faced.

“Don’t get much San Diego news up where I live,” Braxton said. “What happened?”

“Rick McNown from channel five. Fucker was drunker’n a monkey, flying down Mulholland Drive in his Mercedes. The dumb bastard missed a curve. Drove off the edge of a cliff and landed nose-down against a house-sized rock. Had a known meth dealer in the car with him and a bunch of meth-making supplies. His goddamned car hit the rock, exploded, and blew body parts from LA to the Santa Monica Bridge.”

Braxton acted surprised. “Maybe he was interviewing the meth dealer for his show.”

Hap’s brows raised. “Maybe he wasn’t.”

Braxton relaxed into his seat. “We may never know.”

Hap rolled his eyes. “Trusting what they tell us on the news is like believing the expressed length of a man’s schlong or the claimed size of a woman’s shoe. What we’re told us is always fractionally different than the truth.”

Normally, I didn’t buy the fake news propaganda. In this circumstance, however, I hoped Hap was right. As long as the truth was never known, I’d be free to live my life without fear of one day being torn away from Reggie’s loving arms for a crime I didn’t commit—but would undoubtedly be found guilty of by association.