Joseph LaFiamma carefully opened the security alarm hotbox, and stared at the buttons in front of him. Every morning he reset the alarm to a new code, and as he did so, he marveled at how fortunate he was to have picked up such a valuable piece of property by just paying the back taxes on it. He'd been amazed when he discovered it, quite by accident, while driving down a secluded tree-lined street.

The brass plate on the front door reflected sun into his eyes, almost blinding him. He took it as destiny that this was the house for him. It didn't matter to him that the house had been vacant for ten years, or that there was tons of wallpaper to be removed and woodwork to be stripped of paint. What Joe liked about the house were the wood floors, high ceilings, and the two fireplaces ... one in the living room, one up in the sitting room off the master bedroom.

What did it matter that he'd slept on a futon mattress for six months while he and Lundy brought the character of the house back to life. He at last had a home, something he'd lost when his father, then his mother died. Living with relatives just wasn't the same as a home of your own.

He might even fence in part of the five acres and get a dog.

"Come on Joseph," he mused to himself, "enough! Let's get the alarm system set and get to work. Lundy's been at Reisner a couple hours already, working on his paper overload. He'll be smokin' mad if I don't get there soon."

Closing the panel, he readjusted his shoulder holsters. The burp of his cellular phone inside his jacket pocket made him jump. "Who the hell could that be? Nobody calls me before eight in the morning."

Winding his way through the house toward the garage, Joe was startled to find Frank LaFiamma on the other end of the phone. "Uncle Frank? What're you doing in Houston? What!?"

LaFiamma stopped dead in his tracks, almost missing the step down into the garage. His hand was poised in midair, aiming for the button that opened the garage door. "You. Want. What?!!"

Joe started at his black sports coupe as his uncle made an earnest plea. The Cobra had been a part of him for more than six years. He'd barely let it out of his sight since he found it again, and if he'd just heard right his uncle had flown from Chicago to Houston to try to buy it.

"Look ... Uncle Frank! I'm just leaving. I work, you know," Joe began, opening the garage door and pulling out his car keys. "What do you mean you called and told my lieutenant I'd be late this morning?" Joey yelped into his uncle's ear. "Yeah, I know where it is," he growled, flipping the phone shut.

Staring at his beloved Cobra, Joey realized the decision he'd put off for two months was coming down to the wire. He'd driven by the Dodge dealership on a daily basis for a couple of months, trying to decide whether to buy one of the new Dodge Ram pickups that had caused such a stir in the auto business. He'd even talked to a salesman and been approved for a loan, but he just couldn't sign the papers. He couldn't part with the Cobra.

Still, the Dodge Club Cub 2500 Ram Charger had four-wheel drive. It was a doosy, and it sure would make Lundy drool.

Climbing into the Cobra, Joe mused quietly to himself - mmmmm, Magnum V-8 engine, auto transmission, power everything -- windows, locks, seats, fog lights, tilt steering wheel. Cruise control - yeah! Hell on my salary who am I kidding. All my money is going into the house, no way I can afford something like that, an Escort's about my pocketbook.

As Joe backed out of the garage, he knew he really did need another vehicle, something more practical. The house meant a lot to him, something he was really proud of, and he was tired of borrowing Lundy's 4x4 for shrubs and stuff.

Joey smiled, he knew his partner would blow a cork if he knew Joe was thinking about buying a "Texas" vehicle.

The Cobra had been great for Chicago, but here....

Lundy's right, Joe thought, though he would never admit this to his partner, I can't drive it in the rain or the roasting sun, and there's no place to really open it flat out and go.

Pulling into traffic, Joe knew if the deal was sweet enough, he could probably part with his baby, but only if he knew who it was going to.

*********************

Approaching the dealership, Joe saw his uncle standing in the parking lot, waving at him. Pulling into the lot, he stepped out of the 427 Cobra and was met by his father's youngest brother, and Mr. Rodgers, the salesman Joe had met and talked to a few weeks ago.

"Uncle Frank! What the hell're you doing in Houston?" Joe asked, graciously accepting the tight bear hug and kiss on the cheek that his uncle lavished on him.

"I want to buy a car, Joey ... your car!" Frank replied, eyeing the Cobra behind his nephew.

"Hey, Uncle Frank, you know what this baby means to me, don't you? I kept up the payments on it, even after it was stolen. Then I found it down here when we broke an international car theft ring," Joe answered, following his uncle's gaze.

"Yeah, I know, Joey. Uncle Mikey told us all about it. So what do you say? Are you willing to sell it? I had it priced by some car collectors ... did you know it is worth half a mil?"

Joey stared at his uncle. [Half a million dollars? Five hundred thousand dollars?] "Uncle Frank, be serious. You telling me you know someone who would pay five hundred thousand for my car?"

"There's a catch, isn't there?" Joey gasped, collecting his thoughts. He'd been approached a couple of times by people in Houston about his car but no one even offered a price.

"I've been in town a few days, Joey. And Mr. Rodgers here, tells me you've been eyeing a truck here, but you can't make up your mind about buying it. In fact, he says you drive by every few days just to look at it," Frank said walking a slow circle around the Cobra.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about," Joey admitted calmly, giving Mr. Rodgers a stern eye. "What's the catch Frank? You want to buy my car at maybe more than it would grab at a car auction. Why?" he asked edging away from the man as Frank came to a stop inches from LaFiamma's shoes.

[Can I trust you, Frank? Dad always called you a shrewd operator, but he never said a bad word toward you.]

Joey started a slow walk around his car. Uncle Frank was right, this was not the car for Texas. He knew after his first year in this Texas heat box country. He baked to death in the heat with no roof, and was flooded a time or two during the monsoon season.

"It's... Jeanne. You know, my first born daughter ... Jeannine Carla Maria LaFiamma. She wants a Cobra just like her cousin Joey's - for her wedding anniversary! Fifteen years she and Tomas have been married. Only you know what? They don't make cars like this anymore. It'd be going back to Chicago, Joey. Not staying here for some Texan to wreck the gears," Frank offered, lightly touching his nephew on the shoulder.

Joey stopped dead in his tracks when he heard who wanted the car, fear crossed the young Italian's face. [What the hell was Frank thinking of?] "Uncle Frank! There's a hit on me in Chicago! If Jeanne drives this around town, someone will blow her away for sure!"

"Nope! Not the way Mikey and I have it figured," Frank replied, wanting to quell the panic he saw in his nephew's face.

"Uncle Mikey is in on this too?" Joey's eyes narrowed. He'd talked to his Uncle Mikey this morning and nothing was said about the car.

"Listen, Joey ...." Frank LaFiamma started, putting his arm around Joe's shoulder. "It's going to be a big to-do. She's chairing some big three-day event, and the last day of the event is their anniversary. We're working a big surprise party for her into the last few hours. The car will be unveiled in front of cameras - press - everyone will see it - know that it is hers," Frank explained, trying to reassure his elder brother's favorite nephew and using his hands in true Italian fashion for more emphasis.

"Not good enough, Frank! Word needs to get out to everyone! And you know who I mean by everyone!" Joey yelped emphatically, his eyes growing big as a white pickup truck slowly drove toward him with the personalized Texas plate of "Chicago."

"Got this all planned out, don't you?" Joey said soberly.

Moving away from his uncle, Joe reached out to touch the shiny white finish of the oversized cab truck that stopped in front of him. His heart wanted both, but he knew in the end that his cousin would get the Cobra. It was better than some Texan getting it. At least that way he wouldn't see it being driven around town.

Looking at the salesman, Joe said, "This isn't the same truck I've been looking at. This one has a shorter bed, with tandem wheels for a heavier payload."

"This one was a special order," the man replied, glancing at Frank LaFiamma, then back at Joe. "It comes with an alarm system, AM-FM radio, CD player, built-in cell phone -- it's a better package than the other one. Your, ah ... Uncle ... got permission to have a police radio installed. It's ready to go. All you need to do is sign the papers, get the keys and go."

Shaking his head from side to side, a half grin on his face, Joe asked, "You paid for the truck already, didn't you, Frank? Ordered personalized plates? Pretty damn sure of yourself, weren't you?" He questioned, knowing personalized plates took two to three weeks to arrive. "You want my car that bad?"

"Jooooey! We've run so many things past Jeanne for a present and all she wants is a car like yours. It's the only thing Jeanne will accept!" Frank couldn't read the expression on his nephew's face. Of all the family members Frank knew, Joseph Anthony LaFiamma had always been a rebel, always doing his own thing, and now here Frank was, roaring into unfamiliar turf, asking Joe to give up his most precious possession.

"What is the real price of my car, Uncle Frank?" Joey finally asked, stepping away from the white truck.

"Joey, I ... I talked to a couple of collectors down here. Both said they talked to you about the car. I swear ... it is close to half a mil. I just added a bit more so I could outbid them."

"Yeah, they approached me. But no price was ever offered." Joey answered, thinking now maybe he should have let the man talk instead of cutting him off with a 'not interested' comment.

"You're right, the truck is paid for. I took liberties I maybe shouldn't have, but Jeanne is special. She deserves the best. You can pay off the house you just bought, you can invest... take a cruise... but do this for your cousin - and your car." Frank LaFiamma pleaded.

"You want a deal? I'll take the truck you already paid for ... AND ... the half a mil deposited in my bank before you leave Houston." Joey said gesturing between his uncle and the truck.

"Done! I'll call my bank and they'll do an electronic transfer today," Frank jovially answered glad Joe had seen it his way. Hell, he'd paid a million for the car if he had to.

"You tell," Joey continued, "my sweet redheaded cousin this car needs special care. If I hear she's mistreating it, I'll send up two of my Houston enforcers and take it back. 'Course, I'd keep the truck, and the money, no matter what."

Frank LaFiamma burst out laughing. "Uncle Mikey's right! You've got more moxie than all of us put together. You've got yourself a deal, nephew. And you know, Joseph, it's a good thing Chicago kicked you out, because the way you've grown since you've been here, well, you're just better than the cops you used to work with up there. A hell of a lot better! And the family ... we're damn proud of you!" Frank choked, pulling his surprised nephew into a hug, repeating, "Damn proud of you!"

The two LaFiamma's spent the next hour getting the Cobra loaded into the race car trailer that Frank had hidden on the lot, having the ins and outs of the truck explained to Joe, signing papers and exchanging keys.

Joe stood quietly inside the trailer, next to the Cobra. He'd known this day would come. The pain he felt was almost the same as losing a loved one. Stepping outside and back into the Texas sunlight, he asked about the police radio that was still in the car.

"We'll take it out on the other end, Joey. We're on a time schedule here. Besides ... this way, Jeanne will know for sure that it is her cousin Joey's car," Frank answered, gesturing to have the trailer locked up.

"We know it's tough you being down here, away from the family, Joey, but it's much better than being dead," Frank said in all seriousness, touching his nephew lightly on the chin.

"It's hardest - when Angel, Maria or Gina call me and want to know why I can't come to their birthday parties or for Christmas. Sometimes the hole is so big, I think dying would have been better," Joey said, the words catching in his throat.

Even after all this time, the one thing that Lundy could never fill was the hole left in his heart from the separation of his tight-knit Italian family.

"NO! Don't ever say that, Joseph Anthony LaFiamma!" Frank shouted, shaking a finger at Joe's nose. "Dying's not better! Never! Uncle Mikey did what he thought was best. Transferring you to Houston was the best! Mikey may not say it, but he is damn proud of you. He's the only crime boss I know that brags about his favorite nephew -- a cop! We love you Joey. Don't ever forget that."

*****

Joe eased his new truck into traffic and headed for Reisner, debating with himself whether to park the truck in the underground garage, or in the side parking lot. He took the long way back to the station, relishing in the luxury of being able to see above traffic instead of bumper level. He liked the way the truck handled, and though he missed the Cobra already, he knew he'd made the right decision.

Deciding on the side lot, Joe scanned the space as he entered, spotting two unused slots. He pulled into the middle of both. He'd just done what he had complained about others doing, taking up two spaces for their new car. Forgetting that he now had power locks, Joe leaned across the seat to lock the passenger door and roll up the windows. Leaning on his elbow, he realized that there was no window crank. He pushed one of the buttons on the door and watched the window go up. Grinning to himself, he heard officers outside giving favorable comments on the truck.

"Heeeey! Mannn! Will you look at this!" one cooed.

"Woo-weee! It's brand new. Look, the sticker is still on the window. Wonder who owns it? Ahh... George. Look at these plates."

"No way, man! LaFiamma would never get rid of that little kiddy car. It's his baby, man."

Joe slowly sat up, pulling the keys out of the ignition. He quietly opened the driver door and stepped out onto the pavement to face the three officers. To say they were surprised would be an understatement.

"Better close those mouths, guys. Bugs are looking for any cool place to land these days," LaFiamma said, biting the inside of his lip to suppress a grin.

"Lundy know about this? Course not, he's been here two hours already. Wait 'til I tell that cowboy about this!" One howled, dancing a jig as he trailed a finger along the bed of the pickup.

"You're not telling Lundy anything!" Joe growled sharply, locking the truck. He pointed a long narrow finger into each face, "Nothing! You hear! Any of you!"

"Not tell? Are you crazy man? You can't keep this a secret?"

"You can tell anyone you want - but not Lundy! I'm driving today ... the Jimmy's in the shop for two days. Lundy's been grumbling all week about having to spend his Friday in a midget car. You all want to stand around and see his eyes bug out, be my guest. But nobody tells him! You got that!?"

"Hey, LaFiamma? What about the marriage proposal he gave you at the policemen's picnic last year? You going to hold him to that?" One of the officers in blue asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Marriage? What you talking about, Lawson?" Joe asked, frowning and turning to look at the man.

"Yeah, I remember," a young black rookie cut in. "Said - how did Lundy word that? Oh yeah ... 'the day you buy a pickup truck LaFiamma, is the day I marry you.' "

"Whaaat?" Joey gasped, flabbergasted that he didn't remember such a statement.

"Maybe you were too far away to hear it, but he made it -- and in front of witnesses too," the young rookie answered, grinning from ear to ear and obviously thinking about the fun he was going to have with this.

Joe stared at the officers. [Lundy, you stupid redneck, you've done it again!]

Joe left the three staring at his truck and walked toward the side entrance of Reisner. Just as he got to the door, HPD's Public Relations man tapped him on the shoulder.

"You show that thing to that redhead you used to date?" Scully asked as they entered the building.

LaFiamma swallowed. It had been months since anyone had mentioned Susan Eubanks, the fiery redheaded realtor Joe had dated. For a time, the two were inseparable and everyone thought they were going to marry. Then one night something happened, something even Lundy couldn't get out of his partner, and the twosome broke up. It seemed to be more on Joe's part than hers, but no one at Reisner knew what had caused the breakup.

"I haven't shown it to anyone. Drove straight here from the dealership. And Susan ... forget her, Scully," he replied with a sarcastic tone. "You and I aren't the right gender for her happiness."

Scully's jaw dropped to the floor, as the elevator doors closed and started up to the second floor. "She's ...?

"She a nymph, man! Was making it with others, as well as with me," LaFiamma answered as the doors opened revealing a sea of grinning faces. [News travels fast.]

Walking down the hall to the squad room, LaFiamma stopped at the entrance. The double doors stood wide open as usual. Lundy's blond head was down, pouring over paperwork; other heads popped up and stared at him -- Estaban, Joe-Bill, Carol, every single one of them grinning from ear to ear. [Geez, those guys really did call everyone!]

Spotting his boss in her office, LaFiamma headed for Lieutenant Beaumont's office. "Hey, Lundy," he said, stopping momentarily at his partner's desk. "Better finish those up fast, we're due to talk to that witness in fifteen minutes."

Before his partner could answer, Joe tapped on Beaumont's door and entered her glassed office.

"Get all your business done, Joe?" the brunette asked as she smiled and gestured for him to have a seat.

"Yes, ma'am. You knew about this truck deal, did you?" LaFiamma asked, easing his six-foot plus frame into one of her leather chairs.

"Your uncle called me a couple weeks ago; invited Brad and me out to dinner. He told me what he wanted and asked if I could influence you. I told him no, and said that I doubted that he'd get you to deal. Did he get a deal?" Joanne asked, giving her brown hair a toss as she walked around her desk to sit in her chair.

"Yeah, we made a deal. It was like parting with a loved one, though. That car meant a lot to me. Carried me through some trying times. I found out it was worth a hell of a lot more than I ever thought. A cousin of mine in Chicago will be getting the Cobra for her wedding anniversary. Me, I have a brand-new, awesome, white Dodge truck that is totally paid for. This truck is even better than the one I had been looking at. Got enough money to pay off all my credit cards, and even part of my house if I want, but think I will invest most of it."

"Who made who the deal?" Joanne laughed, clapping her hands together. Curiosity had her ever since that dinner engagement with Frank LaFiamma, as she wondered what Joe would do.

"Well, I knew that one day I'd have to get another vehicle if I stayed here. I know my cousin Jeanne. She'll take good care of the Cobra. And don't tell Lundy, but I've wanted some kind of a truck since I was ten."

LaFiamma rose from his chair, shook hands with his lieutenant and left her office.

"You done yet, Lundy? Come on, we've got work to do, and it ain't here!" Joe growled, hovering over the curly-haired blond.

"Got one more to finish, then I'm done," the Texan said without looking up.

"I'll finish it for you, Levon," Sergeant "Legs" O'Brien said from behind him.

Lundy glanced up to find all eyes in the Major Crimes Unit trained on him. "Did I miss something? How come you're offering to do my work, Carol?"

"Lee-von. You came in two hours early, and you've been working steady. Joe's right. You need a break. And since you're on your last report, it's the least I can do to help you out."

Her blue eyes sparkled, but it was the grin tickling at the corner of her mouth that bothered Lundy. "Something's going on here. What is it?" he asked, aggravation in his voice.

He turned to stare at LaFiamma, who stood holding the Texan's Stetson and jacket, and waited for an answer.

"Nothing's going on that I know of, Lundy. You said you wanted to get an early start on those burglary leads. Sorry I was late."

Lundy stood and took the proffered items.

LaFiamma knew the minute they left the room and headed for the elevator that everyone in the building would run for the windows overlooking the parking lot. He hoped the building wouldn't tilt under the excess weight.

"Something is going on, LaFiamma! Everyone around here's grinning like a Cheshire cat," the cowboy replied, donning his Stetson and jacket as they walked in unison into the elevator.

"Maybe your fly's open," Joe answered, stepping into the elevator, held open for them by the young black rookie from the parking lot.

"Okay, what is it, LaFiamma? Something is goin' on here!" Lundy's voice crackled in frustration.

"Oh, all right, if you must know," Joe replied slowly, as the elevator stopped on the main floor and the doors opened. "I sold the Cobra and bought a truck."

"You what?!" Lundy screeched, nostrils flaring, staring wide-eyed at the back of his partner's head as Joe strode out of the elevator car. Lundy was at a loss for words and before he could move, the doors snapped closed in front of him.

Angrily stabbing the 'Open Door' button, Lundy swore as he felt the car lurch upward. "Shiiiittt!"

LaFiamma laughed and walked to the wall, leaning his muscular frame against it.

Minutes later, the door opened and a frustrated, angry blond cowboy emerged. "What do you mean you sold the Cobra?" Lundy barked into the face of the Italian, little beads of frustration forming on his forehead.

"Lundy, you've complained about that car since the day we found it. I simply took your advice and got a vehicle that's more suitable for Texas terrain," LaFiamma said nonchalantly. "You should be happy."

Moving off the wall, Joe walked toward the automatic doors. Seeing the sea of blue uniforms milling around his truck, he wasn't so sure he wanted to go out, but knew the confrontation had to be faced.

"LaFiamma! Joe!" Lundy called, jogging after his partner, then stopping dead when the uniforms ahead of him parted like the Red Sea to reveal a new white Dodge 2500 Ram Charger.

"What do you think, Lundy?" an officer asked. "Looks to me like LaFiamma made a pretty good swap."

"Yeah, Levon. It's fresh off the lot. Roll bars, tandem wheels, supercharged engine - automatic everything! He can even lock you in ... if you get hostile!"

"You traded the Cobra in ... on this?" Levon asked, dumbstruck, staring at a vehicle he would give his eyeteeth to have. "Your mafia uncle gave you the cash for it, didn't he?" Lundy regretted the words before he finished saying them.

LaFiamma's face lost its smile, and Italian's eyes turned hard as his jaw tightened. Even after five years his family was still a constant grind between them. "Sorry, Lundy, you can't pin this purchase on Uncle Mikey. Three car collectors bid on the Cobra, and I sold it to the highest bidder. This truck was a special order that was never picked up, so I got a really good deal."

Slipping his key chain out of his pants pocket, Joe fingered the remote control device, and then pointed it at his new truck, pushing the right colored button to start the truck's engine.

"Whoooaa! You got one of those new remote jobbers with it," the young rookie remarked. "My cousin says he bought a BMW just so he could get a remote!" Turning to Lundy, he asked, "You going to follow through with your promise? The one you made last year about marrying LaFiamma?"

"Marrying LaFiamma? What you talkin' about, Russo?" [The day you buy a pickup truck, LaFiamma, is the day I marry you!]

"Who remembers?"

A sea of six or seven officers chimed in, "The day you buy a pickup truck, LaFiamma, is the day I marry you!" the chorus sang.

"Shall we start planning it now, or do you want to talk it over with your partner first? He might not be in agreement," an older officer quizzed.

Levon's face blushed deep red. As he was being heckled, Joe quietly edged through the crowd to his idling truck. Unlocking the door, he eased himself behind the wheel and buckled up. Surveying the crowd that had doubled in size, he tried to figure the best way to get his partner into the truck. The diesel horn Frank had ordered might cause a scare, so while still in the 'Park' position, the Italian slowly stepped on the gas. Outside the truck, everything came to a halt.

"Put the bridegroom in here, will you?" Joe called through the open window.

"Sure thing, Mist-er LaFiamma," someone joked, as Lundy was ushered through the crowd, they opened the door, and literally lifted the Texan up and placed him into the passenger seat.

Joe could see that switching the Cobra for this truck had most definitely changed his status with these Houston cops.

"You want us to start planning the wedding, LaFiamma?" Estaban Gutierrez asked joyfully. "We could have a real shivaree!"

"Thanks, Estaban, but I think I need to have a serious talk with my partner first," LaFiamma said, nodding his head up and down, and wondering just how far these officers might take this.

"Well, you know --- every time we've tried to back out of something, Lundy's always come back with ... 'a promise is a promise,' so better not wait too long," Joe-Bill howled. "We ain't had a good clean shivaree in years."

Easing through the parking lot and into traffic, both officers were quiet. It was Joe who finally broke the silence. "What the hell was you thinking when you make that statement, Lundy? You knew the day would come when I'd break down and get another vehicle."

"Another vehicle, yes! A Blazer, maybe ... or a Jeep. Or a minivan now that you got a house, but I never figured you for the pickup type!" Lundy groused, knowing his statement, shouted to his partner in a blaze of anger last year, was going to cause them some serious problems.

"It's a deal I couldn't pass up, Lundy," Joe replied, slowing for a changing traffic light.

"And what're you going to do when you see the Cobra drivin' around town? Sit and cry?" Levon shot back angrily. He might have complained about Joe's kiddy car, but he liked riding in it, though it was too late to tell his partner now. The car was gone.

"It was sold to an out-of-state collector. Someone who lives in Illinois, in fact."

"Ill-a-noise! I was right! Uncle Mafia did buy this for you!" Lundy cackled defiantly.

Anger seethed through Joe's every nerve. He was sick and tired of Lundy's constant reference to his family and how they made their living. [That's it! I've had enough!]

Eying a dead end street on his left, Joe turned the truck at a sharp angle through traffic and into the mouth of the side street, throwing Lundy hard against the doorframe.

The power of the truck seeped in slowly. Joe realized it gave him a new status. Not just someplace new for him to stand up for who he'd become here in Texas, but a new position with his fellow officers. He'd arrived at being a Texan, or as much of a Texan as he cared to be.

"This truck was purchased fair and square, Lundy! It was hard for me, making the decision to sell the Cobra. Like selling my own kin. But it was something that had to be done. Five years, Lundy. Five years, you've been making remarks about my family, and enough is enough! If you're gonna keep making reference about me taking dirty money for this truck, then you damn well better get out of it right now! And if you do get out, you can kiss off our partnership!"

The radio crackled ... "9215."

Unhooking the mike from the dash, Joe replied, "9215."

"Just heard the word on the new set of wheels ... congratulations!" An unidentified unit chirped, followed by a series of four or five clicks coming from other police units.

"Guess the news on your new truck's getting' passed around," a subdued Texan replied. "It's taken me a long time to let go of past memories, and it's because of you that I've been able to do that. I don't want to lose what we have, Joe. Stuff like that comes out before I'm able to control it. I know you've made a name for yourself here in Houston. I know I can't come close to filling the void of your family in Chicago. I just have to ask for you to put up with me -- okay. Besides Mother Minnie, you're the only family I've got."

Making a U-turn, LaFiamma proceeded to the corner and waited for traffic to clear before making a left turn. "What's this shivaree thing that Joe-Bill mentioned? In the Midwest they kidnap the bridegroom the day before and put him in a crate on some street corner for the bride to find?"

"Geezz, LaFiamma, don't even think about such a thing! Don't even mention what they do where you come from? Not to anyone! Don't give 'em any ideas they aren't already thinkin' about! That's all I need, stripped to my shorts and stuck in a box on some street corner!"

Levon eyed his partner, he couldn't tell if Joe was serious or not. What the hell made him yell that stupid statement in the first place? And in front of witnesses, yet?

"I suppose it'd be useless to ask the SWAT team to be on our side?" Joe asked. The thought of his partner in a crate tickled him. "How about Joanne? Would she help?" he asked, trying hard to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, she'd probably help by handing me over. I've done it this time. My yelling without thinking has us in hot water I may not be able to get us out it," Lundy lamented.

"What do you mean us? I'm just a bystander here. I wasn't even around when you spouted off. I've read about all the shenanigans people do to bridegrooms to get the brides flustered and frustrated. Be anxious to see what Texans come up with." The more Joe thought about it, the more he hoped whatever was being planned would help Lundy to keep his mouth shut in the future.

"Joe!"

"I don't suppose they'll give me any hints where they'll drop you off, will they?"

"Joe!"

"You're right, we'd better call Beaumont, see if she has any suggestions. Let's whip over to Chicken's and call her." LaFiamma looked around, strange, he'd been heading for the restaurant when he should have been going in the opposite direction.

"9214, 9215 are 10-7 at Chicken's." LaFiamma said into the microphone. Mischief tugged at the corner of his mouth as his partner reached for the door. The mike still in his hand, he kept the mike pressed open as he asked, "so this shivaree thing, that's not the same as they do up North. Kidnapping the groom and puttin' him into a crate or a cage, and puttin' him somewhere like a street corner or here in Chicken's parking lot?"

"I told you, LaFiamma! Don't even think about it! Joe-Bill don't need any ideas!" Lundy growled getting out of the truck and slamming the door behind him.

Replacing the mike on its stand as Lundy slammed the door behind him, Joe paused momentarily, smiling to himself as clicks from other units came over the air. His message had been received.

"What took you so long?" Lundy asked, poking his French Fries into barbecue sauce. "You were on the phone long enough for it to grow out your ear. Hell, even Chicken's heard about it!"

"Well, Joanne's not going to help," Joe answered, chuckling. "In fact, she's one of five women at Reisner who've already signed up to bring a cake." LaFiamma graciously took the bottle of water Chicken offered him.

"A cake!" Lundy screamed, blushing when customers turned to stare at him.

The grin on Joe's face widened. "She said not to worry. They wouldn't marry us or anything like that, but she and the Chief..."

"The Chief? He's in on this, too!" Levon roared. Raising his fist into the air, he slammed it down, missing the counter and hitting the French fry basket, spattering barbecue sauce everywhere.

"As I was saying," Joe continued, jumping backwards as sauce flew at him, and glancing at Chicken who had turned his back on them because he was laughing so hard. "The Chief said maybe this would teach you to watch what you say. And Joanne said they won't let it get too wild. And... oh, yeah... they won't strip you down to your shorts, unless of course that's what you're wearing when they come to pick you up."

"That's great! Even my superior officer won't help me! There's more, isn't there?" Levon muttered, taking a third napkin to wipe more sauce off his hand.

"Yeah, well, since I called you the bridegroom in the parking lot ... well, you know ... you're the one ... well, sometime between Friday noon and Saturday night you're gonna be picked up by Russo, Estaban, Joe-Bill and a couple of others." Joe couldn't hold it any longer; he joined Chicken in laughter that ricocheted around the restaurant.

"It's that damn truck! You got to get rid of this truck, LaFiamma! If you're rid of this truck, they won't do it!" Lundy replied, grabbing Joe by the shoulder.

"I ain't getting rid of this truck, Lundy," LaFiamma remarked, turning to see true concern on Levon's face. "I like this truck! This truck is gonna be mine until the Gulf freezes over, and I doubt that will happen any time soon. Just live with it, cowboy. You finally made a statement you can't talk your way out of. And for once -- hallelujah! -- they ain't after me!"

THE END

[Originally published in Case Closed, Cerrado, A Houston Knights Gen Zine, 1997. Some areas revised from original publication.]

PS: sorry no sequel here, you will have to use your own imagination as to what happened to Levon.