The game is about to start

Palmieri hated waiting for people. Especially when the person keeping him waiting was a low-class stripper he suspected was playing him for a fool. He glanced at his watch for the third time in 30 seconds. It was still 6:20.

He was also still steaming about his last conversation with Hans. Palmieri had dialed Hans’ cellphone number.

“Hello?” a panting voice had answered. “That you, boss?”

“Yes, of course it’s me,” Palmieri responded. “Why are you so out of breath?”

“I’m right on her tail, boss. Closing in, as we speak.”

“Who are you talking about, Hans? Who are you tailing?”

“The stripper, boss. The one I should have taken care of the first time.”

Palmieri had called him off in the nick of time.

“Idiots!” he said to himself, fuming. “I’m surrounded by idiots!”

He waved his empty Corona bottle at the bartender. “Another one, please.”

“Be right with you, sir,” the harried bartender said as he finished filling a waitress’ tray with assorted cocktails. It was getting close to game time and everyone seemed to want one last drink before the national anthem.

As Palmieri sat there regaining his composure and planning his next move, he felt someone tap him gently on the shoulder. He spun around to see a familiar face, but not the one he was expecting.

“Bonner!” he blurted. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“Calm down, Vince,” Bonner said. “Things have gone a little awry since we last spoke. But the bottom line is: I think you and I still have some business we need to finish.”

Palmieri eyed him with suspicion. “So, how did you know I was here? How did you even know I was in the U.S.?”

“Carmen told me about her meeting with you, Vince. Look, it’s a long story. Do you mind if I order a drink?”

Palmieri watched as Bonner waved the bartender over. “I’ll say this for you. You’re having much better luck with that guy than I’ve had all night.”

“So, where’s Carmen?” Bonner asked.

“I have no idea. I was hoping you could shed some light on that. All I know is that my moronic hit man was pursuing her a few minutes ago.”

The two were now both leaning with their backs against the bar, chatting amiably and eyeing the entryway to the club.

After a couple of minutes, Carmen walked through the door, accompanied by a thin, balding gentleman, with gray hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. She immediately spotted the two men at the bar and approached them.

Unbeknownst to the four now seated at the bar, a fifth person was watching them intently from his seat in a booth on the other side of the room.

Mike Gibson is business manager for Santa Barbara County Parks. He is also an amateur fiction writer who says he “got the bug after taking a couple of creative writing classes at the local community college.”