Chapter Three
Up is only up when you have a down.
—Sayings of the Raj Dood
The temperature along Florida’s mangrove coast had plummeted to six degrees Centigrade during the night and Dudley bundled himself in a red woolen blanket to watch Osceola at their morning fire. With his bare shanks sticking out beneath the blanket, he looked like a strange bird—long-faced, a fuzz of straggly blond hair tumbling around his head.
He could not understand why Osceola insisted on this primitive way of cooking. Something to do with her Seminole ancestry, probably. He saw no other reason. She could afford the most modern kitchen in the solar system and the profit charts from her Spirit Glass industry would not even show a blip at the cost.
Dudley glanced around him at jungle growth, Osceola’s old shack they called home on Earth, the rickety pier extending out into the tidal estuary. This place did guarantee the privacy they both prized so much.
By any contemporary standards, Osceola was an ugly old woman, but she suited Dudley. Sometimes, though, he wished she would not dress so garishly. This morning she wore a magenta muumuu adorned with pale green and bright yellow tie-died splotches. Her long dark hair was braided and held at the forehead by a purple bandanna.
Gold bangles jingled at her wrists as she prepared a turtle-egg omelet. One of the neighboring Seminoles, all of whom feared and revered Osceola, had left the eggs the night before, departing without being seen … at least by Dudley. Osceola always knew when her neighbors left propitiatory offerings.
She put a pan in the orange coals to heat the oil and spoke without turning.
“That dang nephew of yours got hisself in deep shit this time. I told you this was gonna happen.”
“I wish you’d stop spying on him, Osey.”
“I don’t do nothin’ you don’t do.”
“But I have to know what he’s doing.”
“Well, I told you to put a stop to it when he started messin’ with the Spirals.”
“I didn’t stop you learnin’ about ’em, did I?”
“I’d like to’ve seen you try.” She poured eggs into the sizzling oil.
“I don’t think I could’ve stopped him once he stumbled onto the secret.”
“Stumbled, my ass! You been proddin’ him the same way you did me. And don’t think I’m so dumb I can’t figure why. You won’t quit till you make that kid’s father cry uncle!”
Dudley chuckled. “You’ve raised old L.H.’s blood pressure yourself a few times, Osey.”
She gave the pan an expert flip and put it on gray coals at one side. “You want pan bread or grits with this?”
“Why can’t I have both?”
“’Cause you’re gettin’ fat in the body to match your head. Lutt’s wise to you, you know? It’s those crazy names you give people you send to help him. Sam R. Kand! Crissakes, Dood, he’d have to be a pure blind idiot not to know something funny was goin’ on. Well, which is it, grits or pan bread?”
“Pan bread.”
She spooned eggs onto a warmed plate, placed a thick slice of golden pan bread beside the eggs and put the plate on the ground in front of him.
Dudley squatted and began eating. One thing about waiting while Osceola built a fire and made breakfast, he thought. It sure got the juices running.
Osceola stood over him, hands on her hips.
“Lutt coulda got hisself killed there, Dood.”
“You wouldn’t’ve missed him.”
“Your own flesh and blood! Sometimes I wonder. You takin’ it out on the kid ’cause you hate the father?”
Dudley spoke around a mouthful of omelet. “Don’t hate him, Osey. Tried to save him from himself once. Failed. Now, maybe I can save his boy.”
“Lutt’s no boy! He’s a mean son-of-a-bitch and don’t you ever forget it.”
“But not sneaky like his brother. Lutt has a few good qualities.”
“Name one.”
“He’s capable of loving a woman.”
“Like all them whores he uses?”
Dudley wiped up the last of the omelet with a corner of bread and ate it before answering. “That’s because of his father, Osey. L.H. dirties most things he touches. My sister never should’ve married him.”
“You were just as big a fool going partners with him!”
“That was a mistake. I admit it. But I was young then.”
“And just as soft in the head as you are now. I swear, Dood, all those Hansons are a bad lot. Best you forget em.
“But you said it yourself, Osey. Lutt’s my blood kin.”
She turned away from him, prepared a plate for herself and squatted beside the fire to eat. Presently, she asked: “When you goin’ back to Venus?”
“When enough of them need me up there.”
“Need! You’re a meddlin’ old fool, Dood. Don’t see why I put up with you.”
“Because you don’t like being bored, Osey.”
Her teeth flashed a wide grin. “That’s the truth, and no mistake. But we gotta be careful with those Dreens, you hear?”
“I hear.”
“That Habiba could be more trouble than a pen full of wildcats, Dood. She may seem peaceful but I got a bad feelin’ about that one.”
“Osey! You haven’t been risking a look in on Dreenor without my knowing, have you?”
“I’m stayin’ clean away from Dreens, but now we got a new one loose in our own backyard, so to speak. And I tell you true, I’m worried.”
“He’s just a kid, Osey.”
“But he’s mixed up with your nephew! Dood, that could be real trouble. Might lead him straight to you!”
“We’ll watch it, Osey. We’ll watch it.”
“That Dreen could make things hot enough around here even inceram suits from your precious Venus couldn’t save us.”
“I told you I’d watch it!”
“Like you did when you let old L.H. steal some of your best inventions?”
“He didn’t get the really important stuff, Osey.”
“Enough to make him the richest man in our universe!”
“Some things you can’t buy, Osey. Just remember that.”
“I hope you’re right. Here, take my plate. It’s your turn to clean up.”