Mr. Hooligan by Ian Vasquez

the fuck, Ray?”
    “Riley, me and you go way back, but you understand it’s not like I have a choice. I mean, if it was up to me…”
    “I know Ray, I know,” Riley said, getting up suddenly. He opened the door, not wanting to hear anything else.
    Ray stood up. “So this won’t affect things with us?”
    Riley walked out of the office and through the main one, Ray following. Riley opened the door and stood half in the sunlight, half in the air-conditioning. “You know I don’t do business that way, to retaliate. The five sixty you owe got nothing to do with this. Pony up and you’re back at the poker table immediately, Ray. The VIP room is always open to friends.”
    “Five sixty ? More like four eighty, I think.”
    Riley said, “Ray.”
    “You’re right, you’re right. I might be miscalculating.” Ray extended a hand. “Sorry again, partner.”
    Riley was getting into the truck when the phone rang again. He took it out, checked the number on the screen. “What now, Turo?”
    “It’s me,” Harvey said.
    “What? Impossible. Harvey Longsworth would never be out of bed at this ungodly hour of midafternoon. You, sir, are a flimsy imposter.”
    “Yeah, well, I wish I was in the mood to fuck around but we got ourselves a little complication here ain’t no joke.”
    Riley sat back. “Hey, don’t mess with me, it’s been a curious kinda morning. Like nobody-wants-to-sell-me-anything kinda morning that makes no sense.”
    “Exactly what I’m telling you. Some people here to see us, you and me. To discuss ‘any obstacles Lindy’s might be encountering.’ I’m looking at them right now out there on the deck. How soon can you get here, Riley?”

CHAPTER SIX
     
    Harvey’s Honda was parked in a space by the fence. Beside it, near the gate, was a white Range Rover with government plates, angle-parked, occupying two spaces—the work of a driver who didn’t want anyone near his ride, and who was also just plain inconsiderate. A small Belizean flag hung from a pole on the hood. Riley pulled up near the gate, and Turo helped him carry the crates of Cokes inside.
    A man and a woman were sitting out on the covered section of the deck. They had drinks full of ice in front of them, and with a cooling breeze off the Caribbean, the woman looking relaxed, Riley could have mistaken them for contented patrons, but he knew from Harvey and Gert’s expressions when he passed by to wash his hands that the pair outside weren’t here for pleasure.
    Riley came out toweling his hands. Gertrude was behind the bar, elbows on the counter, staring at them.
    He said, “Any coffee back there?”
    “No.”
    Riley pitched the hand towel on the bar.
    Gert was glaring. “That’s Eva Burrows. Minister of finance and development. The man is her driver.”
    “Where’s Harvey?”
    Gert’s eyes were flat. “In the kitchen. Slicing a lime. ’Cause the minister requested a slice of lime to garnish her drink, don’t you know.”
    Riley said, “So what’s this all about?”
    Harvey came bustling out of the kitchen with a saucer of lime wedges. “Ready?”
    “Ready for what?”
    “Talk to these people, see what the hell they want.”
    Riley said, “After you,” and followed Harvey onto the deck, Harvey stiff-backed like a waiter, smiling at the man and woman, saying, “Here you go. Sorry that took so long. Wanted to get the pick of the lot for you, Mrs. Burrows.” Acting unusually nice, and getting Riley concerned.
    It wasn’t until introductions were made and Riley shook the man’s hand that he recognized Victor Lopez as the man whose dog Harvey had killed yesterday.
    They all sat down. There was a manila folder on the table next to their drinks.
    “I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday, Mr. Lopez,” Harvey said. “Again, I’ll pay for any expenses. Your family wants a new dog, anything like that. I mean it.”
    “I’m not the one,” Lopez said in a slow rumble, “that you should apologize to. Miss