High Hunt by David Eddings Page B

on this college stuff, don’t you?” He still tried to use words he didn’t know.
    â€œKeeps me off the streets at night.” I shrugged.
    â€œDan,” Margaret said. “Do you like sausage or cheese?” She was rummaging around among the pots and pans.
    â€œEither one, Margaret,” I said. “Whichever you folks like.”
    â€œMake the sausage, sweetie,” Jack said. He turned to me. “We get this frozen sausage pizza down at the market. It’s the best yet, and only eighty-nine cents.”
    â€œSounds fine,” I said.
    â€œYou ever get pizza in Germany?” Margaret asked.
    â€œNo, not in Germany,” I said. “I had a few in Italy though. I went down there on leave once.”
    â€œDid you get to Naples?” Jack asked. “We hauled in there once when I was with the Sixth Fleet.”
    â€œJust for a day,” I said. “I was running a little low on cash, and I didn’t have time to really see much of it.”
    â€œWe really pitched a liberty in Naples,” he said. “I got absolutely crazed with alcohol.” We drifted off into reminiscing about how we’d won various wars and assorted small skirmishes. We finished the pint and had a few more beers with the leathery pizza. Margaret relaxed a little more, and I began to feel comfortable with them.
    â€œLook, Dan,” Jack said, “you’ve got a month and a half or so before you start back to school, right? Why don’t you bunk in here till you get squared away? We can move the two curtain-climbers into one room. This trailer has three bedrooms, and you’d be real comfortable.”
    â€œHell, Jack,” I said, “I couldn’t do that. I’d be underfoot and all.”
    â€œNo trouble at all,” he said. “Right, Marg?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t really be any trouble,” she said a little uncertainly. She was considerably less than enthusiastic.
    â€œNo,” I said. “It just wouldn’t work out. I’d be keeping odd hours and—”
    â€œI get it.” Jack laughed knowingly. “You’ve got some tomato lined up, huh? You want privacy.” I don’t know if I’d ever heard anyone say “tomato” for real before. It sounded odd. “Well, that’s no sweat. We can—”
    â€œJack, how about that little trailer down the street at number twenty-nine?” Margaret suggested. “Doesn’t Clem want to rent that one out?”
    He snapped his fingers. “Just the thing,” he said. “It’s a little forty-foot eight-wide—kind of a junker really—but it’s a place to flop. He wants fifty a month for it, but seeing as you’re my brother, I’ll be able to beat him down some. It’ll be just the thing for you.” He seemed really excited about it.
    â€œWell—” I said doubtfully. I wasn’t really sure I wanted to be that close to my brother.
    â€œIt’ll give you a base of operations and you’ll be right here close. We’ll be able to get together for some elbow-bendin’ now and then.”
    â€œOK,” I said, laughing. “Who do I talk to?” It was easier than arguing with him. I hadn’t really made any plans anyway. It was almost as if we were kids again, Jack making the arrangements and me going along with him because I really didn’t care one way or the other. It felt kind of good.
    â€œYou just leave everything to me,” Jack said importantly. He’d always liked to take over—to manage things for people—and he’d always make a big deal out of everything. He hadn’t really changed at all. “I’ll check it over from stem to stem and make old Clem give you some decent furniture from the lot—He owns the place where I work as well as this court. We’ve got a whole warehouse full of furniture. We’ll put in a good bed and a halfway decent