Coconut Cowboy Read Online Free Page B

Mary.
    â€œHe was the man at our door.”
    Vernon Log stood and shook Peter’s hand. “Guys, this is our new neighbor, Peter Pugliese.”
    â€œHi, Peter.” “Pleasure.” “Nice to meet,” etc.
    Peter smiled back, thinking about his now rib-­sauce-­sticky hand he was holding away from his chinos.
    â€œWho’s that behind you?”
    â€œOh.” Peter stepped aside, and all the men at the table quickly stood. “This is Mary, my wife.”
    â€œPleasure.” “You’re a lucky man.” So on.
    â€œTold you we’d meet again at Lead Belly’s,” said Vernon. “Join us.”
    â€œI wouldn’t want to intrude—­”
    â€œNonsense.” Vernon swung a hand to dispel the concept. “Guys, pull up that other table.”
    Peter paused. “But a family is about to sit down at it.”
    â€œThey’ll find another.”
    Soon they were all gathered together. A young woman in an apron arrived with a notepad and pen. She blew a bubble with her gum. “What’ll ya have?”
    â€œGet the ribs,” said Vernon, gnawing a bone.
    All the men at the table wore plastic bibs. Each bib had a large lobster.
    â€œThey serve seafood?” asked Peter.
    Vernon looked down at the crustacean on his chest. “No, these were just cheaper.”
    Peter handed the waitress their menus. “Two orders of ribs.”
    â€œComes with three sides. Coleslaw, hush puppies, mac and cheese, black beans, black-­eyed peas, okra, corn on the cob, off the cob, sweet potatoes, regular potatoes, crinkle-­cut potatoes—­”
    â€œDixie,” said Vernon. “These are our new neighbors. Bring ’em a little of everything.”
    Gum smacked, and she left.
    A loud wail from a hand-­cranked siren went by outside the restaurant.
    â€œAnother fire?” asked Peter.
    â€œNo,” said Vernon. “They went the wrong way again . . . You want a beer?”
    â€œSure.” Peter turned to look for the waitress.
    Vernon shook his head. “They don’t sell any. No license.” He reached down into a cooler next to his chair and pulled out a dripping-­cold longneck Budweiser. “Here ya go.”
    â€œThanks,” said Peter. “Customers are allowed to do this?”
    â€œ We are,” said Vernon, and a wave of laughter ran round the table.
    Peter laughed, too, nudging his wife, who forced a chuckle.
    â€œLet me introduce the gang,” said Vernon. “This my cousin Bo, the fire chief, and my brother Floyd, the tax collector, and my other brother Jabow, who we call Bo unless the other Bo is around. It’s caused problems. He’s a city councilman, along with everyone else, and so is my nephew Clem, and my son-­in-­law Otis, and the twins, Harlan and Haywood . . .” Each of the men nodded in turn at the ­couple.
    Peter smiled back. “Sounds like you got most of the government here.”
    â€œThe whole government,” corrected Vernon. “We’re actually having a commission meeting right now.”
    Peter looked over his shoulder. “What about the city hall up the street in the town square?”
    â€œNo good,” said Jabow.
    â€œTried that before,” said Clem.
    Â­â€œPeople showed up,” said Harlan.
    â€œAsked questions,” said Haywood.
    â€œWe got us a nice little town here,” said Otis.
    â€œTake care of our own,” said Vernon. “And at that table next to us are the three young bucks, Elroy, Slow and Slower, the town’s next generation. Still wet behind the ears, but we’ll bring ’em around. They’re not allowed to sit at the main table yet.”
    â€œWhat kind of names are Slow and Slower?” asked Peter.
    â€œNicknames, because they’re slow in the head, one a bit more so,” said Vernon. “We’re straight talkers around these parts.” He