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Back Happy Hour In Hell
Chapters (60)
  1. DAW Books Presents
  2. HAPPY HOURINHELL
  3. Copyright page
  4. Contents
  5. Dedication
  6. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  7. prologue
  8. one
  9. two
  10. three
  11. four
  12. five
  13. six
  14. interlude
  15. seven
  16. eight
  17. nine
  18. ten
  19. eleven
  20. twelve
  21. interlude
  22. thirteen
  23. fourteen
  24. interlude
  25. fifteen
  26. sixteen
  27. seventeen
  28. eighteen
  29. nineteen
  30. twenty
  31. twenty-one
  32. interlude
  33. twenty-two
  34. twenty-three
  35. twenty-four
  36. twenty-five
  37. twenty-six
  38. twenty-seven
  39. twenty-eight
  40. twenty-nine
  41. thirty
  42. thirty-one
  43. thirty-two
  44. thirty-three
  45. thirty-four
  46. thirty-five
  47. thirty-six
  48. thirty-seven
  49. thirty-eight
  50. thirty-nine
  51. forty
  52. forty-one
  53. forty-two
  54. forty-three
  55. forty-four
  56. forty-five
  57. forty-six
  58. forty-seven
  59. forty-eight
  60. epilogue

At last, and extremely grudgingly, I came up with a name. As with most of the other ideas I’d been having lately, it was so damn awful that I wanted to kick myself all the way around San Judas, but after wrestling with the problem all afternoon it was still the best I could come up with. Which will, unfortunately, give you an idea of the quality of my options.

My candidate picked up the phone and dropped it on the floor twice before he managed to say, “Yo. G-Man here.”

I took a deep breath, still wondering if I should just hang up and leave my body in the middle of the road somewhere—surely it would be safer, because if there was a more annoying, less competent person on the round green Earth than Garcia “G-Man” Windhover, I had yet to meet him. I became acquainted with G-Man while trying to figure out how his girlfriend’s late grandfather had been involved with Sam’s Third Way (although I hadn’t known Sam was part of it at the time). Unfortunately, young Garcia had proved harder to get rid of afterward than a tar baby in a Velcro romper. Believe me, he was literally the last person I wanted to involve, but love and desperation often make for strange bedfellows.

“Hey, G-Man,” I said. “Bobby Dollar here.”

“Bobby! Long time no see, brah! Whassup?” He had fantasies that he was my driver or my operative or something. I’d done my best to convince him otherwise, but it was like talking to a crazy person. What the fuck am I talking about? It was talking to a crazy person. But G-Man had access to an otherwise empty house, so pride (and good sense) would have to be swallowed.

I made an arrangement to drop by Posie’s grandfather’s place that afternoon and ascertained that G-Man would be there and Posie wouldn’t, which was good. She wasn’t any dumber than her boyfriend (I’m not sure that’s scientifically possible) but she wasn’t really a good security risk. I was stuck with G-Man already, since Clarence had dragged him along to the Shootout at Shoreline Park, but there was no reason to add more bodies to this clusterfuck.