Page 78 of Gone Before Goodbye

“Not even a little?”

Barlow raises his chin, sticks out his chest. “There’s security everywhere.”

Porkchop nods and then punches Barlow deep in the stomach. It’s a short jab, no fuss, no big windup or any of that. The hand forms a fist near the waist and shoots up fast. You don’t need that much power to make this effective. It’s more placement than strength. Porkchop’s knuckles land flush on the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of Barlow. Barlow bends at the waist. His mouth is open in a silent scream because the air is gone from his lungs. Porkchop grabs him and gently leads him to the ground. Pinky steps in front of them, blocking the security guard’s view.

“Just relax,” Porkchop whispers. “Your breath will come back in a moment.”

No one saw the blow. No one rushes over. Part of that is the speed and relative stillness of Porkchop’s move. Part of it is that you don’t expect something like this on the ground floor of a fancy Manhattan high-rise. Whatever, no one reacts at first, but with Barlow on the floor struggling to regain his breath, a security guard finally notices. He starts to hurry over.

“If you tell him anything other than you’re fine,” Porkchop says in his calmest voice, “you’ll need a doctor better than you to put you back together.”

The guard, a bony guy with a prominent Adam’s apple, arrives. “Doctor Barlow?”

“He slipped,” Porkchop says.

The guard ignores him. “Doc?”

Barlow finally catches his breath. “I’m fine, Darryl,” he manages. Then: “I’m going to need a security pass for my friend here.”

Darryl ends up getting a pass for Pinky too. They use the barcode to get through the turnstile and into the elevator. All three step inside. When they do, Barlow snaps, “What do you want?”

“First off, I’m sorry,” Porkchop says. “Not about the punch. You deserved that. But the ‘you’ll need a better doctor than you’ line. I can’t believe I said that.”

Pinky says, “It was bad.”

“I know. Way too arch.”

“Even the delivery was off,” Pinky adds with a disappointed shake of his head. “I expect better from you, Porkchop.”

“I know,” Porkchop agrees. “Just know that I let myself down too.”

The elevator opens with a ding. Barlow’s assistant, Mrs. Tansmore, greets him as he comes into the office. Porkchop, decked out in full biker garb, winks at her and kisses her hand. You can’t get away with this anymore. But Porkchop can. Mrs. Tansmore blushes.

“They call me Porkchop,” he says.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Porkchop,” Mrs. Tansmore says.

“I bet Doc Barlow never told you he used to be in a motorcycle gang.”

“No, he never did.”

“We used to say Barlow set the Bar Low, if you catch my drift.”

She doesn’t. Pinky frowns and shakes his head at Porkchop. Then Pinky raises both his hands. One is a fist. The other is two fingers. This is signaling 0-2, meaning that between the “you’ll need a better doctor” line and the “Bar Low” pun, Porkchop is one strike away from being out.

Porkchop nods. “Fair.”

Porkchop follows Barlow into his office. Pinky stays out with Mrs. Tansmore and guards the door. No one in, no one out.

“What do you want?” Barlow snaps.

Porkchop frowns. “Can we skip this part?”

“Skip what part?”

“The part where you pretend you don’t know I’m here about Maggie.”

Barlow nods. “There’s nothing for me to tell you,” he says.