Page 11 of Property of Bob

“How long since you’ve seen him?”

“Twenty years.”

A man sitting on the couch whistled.

I looked toward him. “Thank you for making that sound even worse.”

He lifted his beer. “Welcome.”

Anchor didn’t smile. “What are you doing here?”

Apparently, everyone on Skull Island asked questions before saying hello.

“I came to see him.”

Prime moved closer to Anchor and lowered his voice, but not enough. “Her RV died out in the lot.”

Anchor glanced toward me again.

“Of course he told you that.”

Prime ignored me.

Anchor looked at my bag. “You staying in the RV?”

“That was the plan.”

“No,” Anchor said.

I blinked. “You people really like that word.”

“You’re staying here tonight.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know your RV doesn’t run and you drove here looking for one of my brothers,” Anchor explained.

“I can sleep in it without the engine running.”

“No.”

I looked at Prime. “Is this a club requirement?”

“What?”

“Being bossy.”

A woman sitting on one of the couches laughed.

Anchor rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You can argue about it tomorrow.”

“I’m sensing a theme.”

The woman laughed again.

I looked at Anchor. “When can I see Bob?”

The humor disappeared from the room.