Table For Three: Lyle 5

By Timothy Lee

This time, Orlando, Bonzai and Sheila, the respective partners and wife of Lyle, Michaels and Dieter, have a surprise waiting for the three cops and it is not a pleasant one. Suddenly, life is becoming complicated for the boys, although for Lyle it's even worse when he falls head over heels in love with a fireman in this continuation of the Lyle saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Lee
• Release date: Feb 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310221255

Timothy Lee

Timothy Lee was born in Concord, California, and raised in South Lake Tahoe, California. Eventually he migrated northward and finally settled down in Olympia, Washington, where he now resides with his two cats, Kodora and Koji. Timothy takes his yearly vacation to the Disneyland Resort where he is allowed to wear silly mouse ears hats and act like a 10 year old.

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TABLE FOR THREE

Lyle 5

Timothy Lee

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Timothy Lee

Published by Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

About The Author

Other Titles

CHAPTER 1

God I hate this. I mean, what are we? Police or babysitters? Dieter Baldwin complained.

Lyle Bogart, who was admittedly just as bored as his partner, stood in the bright sunlight surveying the crowd gathered behind the yellow 'Do Not Cross' police barricade tape they had strung up earlier. Granted, Lyle would have enjoyed watching the action taking place behind him, what with the house fire raging out of control and the fire department in their yellow and black turnout gear frantically attempting (yet miserably failing) to get the better of the conflagration, but his job was to control the considerable crowd of people watching on. Moreover, he was keeping his eyes on the individual looky-loo's, searching for the one who did not appear as if to fit in: the one who looked out of place.

Having been on the police force for nine years now Lyle was well-versed in the in's and out's of a fire and those who seemed to be a little more interested in the going's-on than others, as an arsonist was wont to do. Casting his eyes about he found everybody before him to be chatting excitedly with one another, a sign of passive interest and assumed innocence, which seemed to point to this fire having been more of an accidental nature than deliberate. That assumption, however, did not dissuade Lyle from his discourse of suspecting anybody and everybody, seeing as how there had been two other recent house fires in different parts of the city; both having been declared arson by fire investigators.

All part of the job, Kemosabe, Lyle replied to his impatient partner and friend. If we don't control the angry mob we might be eaten alive. Either that or they'll all rush past us to get to the fire with hotdogs and marshmallows before we do.

I would welcome an angry mob, Dieter stated somewhat warily. At least it would give me something to do other than standing here like a horse waiting outside a glue factory.

Not quite understanding the correlation between this assignment and the liquefying of an animal, Lyle lowered his dark glasses and glanced knowingly over the rims. You have exactly three seconds to explain that remark before I have to kill you.

Dieter frowned. Good. Put me out of my misery. We shouldn't even be here; this isn't even our jurisdiction. Where's the ground troops that should be here instead of us?

Well, there's a number of possible answers to that question, Lyle said, pushing his dark glasses back up the bridge of his nose. A donut shop would be the most obvious and stereotypical answer... which reminds me; I'm hungry. Since Orlando's been in D.C., I've been having to feed myself again and I don't much care for it, he said, referring to his lover of two years, Orlando Alvarez.

What are you talking about? Dieter asked, turning to face Lyle head-on. You love to cook and you're good at it.

I don't know, Lyle said with a sigh. Just got out of the habit of cooking, I guess. Since Orlando laid claim to the kitchen I try to stay as far away from it as I can. Hey, if somebody is going to feed and fuck me, who am I to argue? he said with a quiet laugh.

Dieter turned away. You had to go there, didn't you? What the hell is it with you? You know how I feel about the things you and he do... pretty damned disgusting.

Oh, come on, Deet, you know you enjoy it. Even now I can see that little gleam in your eye that says 'More, more, more'.

Whether or not that gleam actually existed was impossible to see behind his dark glasses, although Dieter's lips nevertheless curled up somewhat at the edges. Yeah, right.

Come see me tomorrow and I'll fill you in on the foreplay ritual at our house. It's pretty damned spicy. We even made a picture book for better visualization, but you better wear a cup because it could get raucous and you won't want to damage your tender bits.

Dieter threw his head back, closing his eyes. Lord, take me now. Turning back to Lyle, he added, You enjoy every second of this, don't you? You enjoy making me sick.

Every chance I get, Lyle declared with a laugh. Giving his partner a friendly pat on the back he once more turned his eyes to the crowd. What do you think about that guy in the gray sweatshirt? He seems to be an island unto himself.

Dieter was silent a moment before commenting. Yeah, I've been keeping an eye on him. Doesn't seem much like contributing to the conversation, does he?

Lyle stared intently at the young man whose hood covered his head, exposing only the face with a thin black mustache that graced the upper lip like a casualty in a drive-by laundry marker attack and the white nose sticking out just enough to be catching the sunlight on the tip. "Well, either he's our target or he lacks the social skills to join in the 'housewarming party'," he said with a quick glance behind him.

Oh, that's cold, Dieter scolded, turning to face his partner. Those poor people just lost their home and here you go making jokes about... What's with the stupid grin?

Lyle stood perfectly still, staring at Dieter while waiting for his joke to take hold. "Come on, you know that was funny. Admit it. 'Housewarming'. Get it? Let's see that smile."

What's to smile about? There's a house in flames and... How would you feel if your house was engulfed and... Damn it, Lyle, wipe that damned smirk off your face. It wasn't funny, he said before turning back to face the crowd, his lips stretching a little bit more in his obvious attempt to keep himself from laughing. A house fire is not funny.

You know you loved it, Lyle prompted. There's a laugh in there somewhere trying to get out. Better let it loose before it kills you.

"Housewarming, Dieter grumbled, his body quivering some from the stifled laugh. That's just cold, he repeated, his smile spreading against his own wishes. Can we please just concentrate on our jobs without the stupid remarks?"

Lyle determined that Dieter was in a mood that disallowed him the ability to freely function as a human being right now, at least willingly, so he gave up on the joke that he knew was distasteful but could not help delivering. Glancing back at the guy in the hoodie, he caught the man's eye, drawing forth a big smile. Lyle smiled back briefly before turning back to his partner.

I guess that lets the guy in the hoodie out. I just got a big smile and a growth in his pants.

Dieter turned to Lyle so quickly it was a wonder how his head had not fallen right off. You just can't help yourself, can you? he reprimanded with a sullen expression. I'll ask you for the last time to stop with the 'gay talk'. I'm not in the mood. And besides that, I am sick and tired of you and Mike cramming your perverted sex lives down my throat day after day after day. Enough is enough. Okay?

Lyle was about to give some sort of reply, though not yet knowing what it was going to be, but was interrupted by the approaching mass of muscle, steel and bulk known as Darren Michaels; more affectionately referred to by his last name. The looming figure stepped up beside Dieter and gave both men a nod. What up, dudes?

Careful there, big guy, Lyle warned his large friend, Deet didn't get his meth fix this morning so he's a bit irritable.

Meth... Dieter grumbled, turning his head away in apparent disgust.

So how goes it, tall, black and handsome? Lyle asked Michaels.

It goes, man. Not much action over there, he replied with a glance to the opposite end of the street where he had been standing. Any suspicious activity over here?

Lyle shook his head. Other than Deet blowing his nose on his uniform, nothing. Kinda been keeping our eye on... he began before being interrupted.

Exactly when did I blow my nose on my uniform? Dieter demanded gruffly. I don't recall that.

Oh, my mistake, Lyle said apologetically. I guess I was the one who blew my nose on your uniform. Anyway, we've been keeping our eyes on Mr. Hoodie over there but so far he's done all the right things and buttered me up with the promise of silk stockings, chocolate and a night out on the town that I'll never forget, so we've basically got nada.

Michaels eyed the man in question briefly before returning his attention to Lyle. Yeah, seems okay to me. Got word that the 4th Precinct is still tied up so we're stuck here for now.

Damn it, Dieter said angrily. He then turned his eyes (and wrath) upon Lyle. And by the way, what's with you always referring to Mike as black?

Taken aback by this out-of-the-blue question, Lyle exchanged a look of questioning disbelief with Michaels before returning his eyes to Dieter. I did?

Yes you did. When he got here just now you called him tall, black and handsome.

"Um, well, maybe because he is tall, black and handsome?" Lyle said with great uncertainty as to where this issue had come and where it was heading.

I know that, Dieter said. I mean, you never refer to me as being white but you're always referring to him as being black. Why the specific distinction?

Would it make you feel better if I addressed you as 'white Deet' from now on? Lyle asked, somewhat confounded by the unexpected criticism.

Of course not. I'm just sick and tired of his skin color being constantly rubbed in my face, Dieter explained sourly.

Um, Lyle said, not being certain how to respond seeing as how this had never before been an issue. Is Mike's race a problem all of a sudden?

Don't be stupid. Of course it isn't.

Would you rather he be green?

Dieter gave Lyle a dark glare. I would rather that you refer to everybody equally without always pointing out their differences. We're all human beings, not colors. Colors don't have feelings, humans do.

I'll grant you that, but don't you think our differences should be celebrated rather than muffled? Lyle reasoned. After all, wouldn't a one-race population be boring as hell?

You just don't get it, do you? he asked Lyle angrily.

I get that we're all flying on Spaceship Earth together and that we all need to get along. I also understand that racial differences can be used in hurtful ways against one another and that we would all be much better off if these differences were embraced and enjoyed. What I'm not getting is why it's suddenly an issue with you that I point out Mike's race? You know I've never used it in a derogatory manner, it's a compliment. I recognize his uniqueness and I'm proud that he's my black brother just as I'm proud of you, my white brother. Besides - and I guess you weren't told of this beforehand - Mike's made me promise to remind him of his blackness at least once a day because he tends to forget and tries to join the Aryan Brotherhood.

True dat, yo, Michaels said, chucking.

You two are pathetic, Dieter grumbled with a shake of his head.

Lyle considered this for a couple moments before responding. Deet, what's really behind this anger? Sheila not feeding you enough roughage? he asked, referring to Dieter's wife.

You're not as funny as you seem to think you are, Dieter told him bitterly.

In case you hadn't noticed, your wife is black, too.

I am well aware of her race, Dieter responded angrily, but I never refer to her as 'black Sheila' because I think it's insulting to her to point out that she's different from me, just as I think it's insulting to Mike.

Michaels nodded. He's got a point, he responded, this surprising the hell out of Lyle. The only thing is that I don't mind it when Ly refers to me as being black. I enjoy the recognition. I also know Ly's sense of humor and that he doesn't have a hurtful bone in his body, and I appreciate his love for diversity.

Ah, I see where this is coming from, Lyle finally admitted, seeing Dieter's point. Okay, Deet, you're right. It was insensitive of me to call Mike black. From now on it's just Mike and Deet; no colors, no distinction, no division.

Thank you, Dieter said, looking quite satisfied for having finally won an argument after years of losing.

You are welcome.

Dude, you're turning whiter than Deet, Michaels told Lyle, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Lyle pointed to his tall friend and turned his eyes upon Dieter. There! See? This is so unfair. How come he can get away with it but I can't?

Because he's a jerk, Dieter replied under his breath, though loudly enough for both men to hear.

You're right, Michaels now told Lyle, he's definitely needing a visit from the Methmeister.

Come on guys, knock it off with the drug jokes, Dieter implored, glancing about to make sure this conversation was not being overheard. We're cops, let's act like it.

All right, Deet, all right, Lyle said. Patting his partner on the shoulder, he added, I forget how sensitive you are.

You got a point, Ly, Michaels agreed.

This remark brought a deep frown from Dieter. I'm not that sensitive. I just don't think it's a good idea to joke about addiction, that's all.

He's got a point, Michaels again agreed.

Turning to Michaels, Lyle smiled and said, Would you please choose a side of the fence and stand on it? You're making my head spin around so fast it's about to fall off.

Not me, man. Us black folk knows t' always agree wit da white folk, otherwise we be hangin' from da talles' tree.

Dieter now glared at Michaels. Really? You too? What the fuck is wrong with you both?

Deet, chill, man, Michaels replied with a chuckle. Doesn't look good you throwing a tantrum in public.

Tantrum? Dieter asked in a higher vocal register normally reserved for cats and screaming babies.

You know what I think might help? Lyle said to the tall man before him. I think this lovable character of ours might benefit from a nice lengthy stay at the DDF.

DDF? Michaels asked.

Lyle nodded. Yeah, the Dieter Detox Facility. It's not always the most pleasant place to be but sometimes it's a necessary evil. Mostly it's filled with humorless people with sticks up their asses, cold meals and an uneven pool table.

Dieter deepened his frown. Oh, you're hilarious, Ly, he said in a low voice. So I take it that you think dependency on one of the world's most addictive and dangerous drugs is a joking matter.

No, Lyle said, his smile growing. But I am greatly concerned about an even greater issue: if you put your Appletini on the uneven pool table at the DDF you run the risk of it falling off and you losing your drink, and isn't that really the true crime here?

Har dee har, Dieter said sourly, turning away.

Man, what crawled up your ass and died? Michaels asked the man to his right.

Nothing crawled up my ass and died, Dieter mocked angrily.

His Appletini probably slid off the pool table this morning, Lyle said.

This did bring a hint of a smile to Dieter's lips, causing him to quickly look away.

Glancing back to the house Lyle found white steam and grey smoke now lifting up to the sky, indicating that the blaze was under control and should be extinguished sooner rather than later; at least in theory. This was good in that he and his fellow officers would be able to get back to their regular beat in their regular area with the regular criminals and regular donuts. As there was still no sign of their backup yet arriving to relieve them, Lyle knew that he, Michaels and a very grumpy Dieter were stuck with crowd control... although the 'crowd' now consisted of approximately ten people, all of whom were merely watching and chatting. The yellow tape and a very lazy guard Chihuahua would probably have sufficed at this point without the police even having to be present.

You heard from Orlando, today? Michaels asked Lyle of his lover.

Not for a few days... more than that, actually, Lyle admitted. That's normal, though. He's called back to D.C. probably every other month and he gets pretty darned busy. I guess the FBI business is quite lucrative right about now. He'll call when he gets the chance.

I imagine it gets kinda lonely for you, Michaels said.

Yeah, a little, although it does give me time to whore around town again and frequent every gay dive I can lay my eyes on... Ah, to be revisiting the good old days, Lyle said with a sigh.

Relationships are just one big fat joke to you, aren't they? Dieter asked with renewed anger. It might interest you to know that some of us respect the sanctity of a relationship and don't appreciate hearing people trashing them like that.

Michaels squared his eyes upon the man, his smile completely absent. Look, dude, I don't know what your problem is but you need to lighten up or go home. You know damned well what Ly has gone through with his past relationships and it was anything but a 'big fat joke', he reprimanded. His man is often gone for great lengths of time on federal business and you don't think he has the right to make light of a bad situation? What the fuck's wrong with you, man?

Looking somewhat ashamed, Dieter said, No, I didn't think that... he began before being interrupted.

That's right, you didn't think. You have a bad habit of opening your mouth and saying what comes to mind without considering the consequences beforehand and I for one am getting pretty damned tired of your shit, Michaels continued, sounding more and more angry with every word.

Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out the way it did, but don't think Lyle's the only one with relationship problems around here, Dieter replied in a softer tone.

This statement caught Lyle off guard and it took a few seconds for the implication of Dieter's words to fall into place. Something wrong between you and Sheila? he asked his friend and partner.

I don't want talk about it, Dieter replied. He then stalked off toward the black and white police cruiser parked on the side of the street.

Uh oh, I think I hit a nerve, Lyle said softly to Michaels. I wonder what's going on?

Whatever it is he had no right to come down on you the way he did, Michaels insisted, resting his right hand on the butt of his holstered gun.

I appreciate that and I thank you for your support, but let's be fair, Mike; if he's having marital problems then it's up to you and me to help him over that hurdle. The Three Musketeers have to stick together, after all.

Yeah, man, I know it, Michaels conceded, his tone softening. I just get so damned tired of his sanctimonious attitude.

Well, you'd cop an attitude if your Appletini slid off the pool table, too, Lyle said, then enjoying watching the smile return to his tall partner's face. No, seriously, one of us needs to go over and straighten things out with the Deetster. Obviously he's hurting and he needs some comforting.

It'd be easier to tie him to the back of the cruiser and drag him around town, Michaels said. That'd make him forget about his domestic problems.

But think of all the blood in the streets. The Department of Roads would be furious.

True dat, Michaels agreed. He then glanced to Dieter who was now leaning with his back against the passenger door of his and Lyle's patrol car, looking down to the pavement below his feet. A'ite, I'll make the supreme sacrifice since I was the one who opened the wound.

That's my guy. Go show him what a real man can do, Lyle prompted.

Michaels quickly glanced back to Lyle, a look of disgust on his face. Oh no, man. I ain't fuckin' him.

Lyle chuckled at this unexpected reply. Not quite what I had in mind, although it does paint an interesting picture.

With this Michaels headed toward the car, leaving Lyle to the angry mob at large; their numbers having now dwindled to a very bored five. He noted that the man in the hoodie was still in attendance, although he now seemed more interested in chatting up an attractive young woman than the fire scene.

The smoke and steam was minimal now, indicating that the blaze had for the most part been extinguished. More firemen were seen standing around the truck two trucks than fighting the fire at this point and Lyle was gratified to see this. His job here was almost through, and just in time for lunch, he thought with a quick glance to his watch. Looking back to the big red trucks, he suddenly noted one of the men in yellow give him a quick wave. Not knowing this fireman, Lyle gave him a pretty generic wave back before returning his attention to the two men in black uniforms standing beside the cruiser.

Michaels and Dieter were engaged in a quiet conversation which seemed to indicate that the bridges had been mended so things were back on track. Still, there was something definitely going on between Dieter and his wife and it was killing Lyle not knowing what the problem was. This, however, was none of his business until such time as Dieter was to avail him of the information, so he would have to just hold on.

Hey, a voice said from behind.

Swiveling around abruptly, Lyle saw that he was being approached by the same fireman who had seconds before waved to him. The guy was most definitely handsome, his light face showing the results of dark smoke in such a way that he appeared to have a beard though being clean shaven.

Hi, Lyle greeted.

Looks like we had grease fire in the kitchen that got out of control, the young man advised. With an old house like that it spreads pretty quickly.

Ah, Lyle said, adding, And you are?

Oh, sorry. Robert Nelson. It didn't look like the chief had spoken with any of you guys so I thought I'd give you the heads up.

I appreciate that, Lyle said with a grateful nod.

Do you have a name? the firefighter of about twenty-one asked.

Lyle Bogart, he informed the man whose smile was quite endearing. Sorry, I'm so known around the city that I just assume everybody knows me. Well, either that or my inflated ego requires me to think so.

Robert laughed, showing bright straight teeth that stood out against the smoke-darkened skin. That's cool. You been with the police long?

Nine years, Lyle said proudly. He quickly amended his statement, Well, one year behind the badge and eight behind bars. But it wasn't all bad, at least they didn't have an uneven pool table. With the look of sudden confusion crossing Robert's face, Lyle added, Oh, sorry, you weren't here for that joke.

What joke? the fireman asked lightly.

Well, it's kind of complicated. Suffice it to say it involves whips and chains and a skateboard and even a duck, although the duck costs extra, Lyle joked, knowing full well after the fact that this man was going to become even more confused with this explanation.

Ducks usually do cost extra, though not as much as a kangaroo, Robert said, apparently picking up on Lyle's deranged sense of humor.

Not bad, Lyle said. Wish I had come up with the kangaroo first. After all, so much could be said about the pouch. So, how long have you been using fire as an excuse to break into people's homes?

I know. Pretty cool setup, right? Actually, I've been fighting fires in the city for just over a year. Prior to that I worked as a smokejumper for almost six years.

Pretty tough work, Lyle admitted.

I'm a pretty tough guy.

I can see that, Lyle admitted, giving the handsome and obviously fit man a once-over.

Besides, working forest fires paid well, Robert said.

I don't know if money would be enough incentive for me to run towards a fire; house or otherwise. Instinct dictates that I run away from it. Same thing with being a cop: every time I see trouble I run in the opposite direction, hide beneath the bed and wet myself. You ever have a boot full of urine?

Robert chuckled. Water, yes. Urine, no.

I highly recommend it. It's nice and warm. You really should try it sometime.

I'll have to give that one some thought. Okay, well I gotta get back to work. Nice meeting you, Lyle.

Likewise, Lyle said, extending his hand.

Shaking it, the fireman then headed back to the truck and Lyle caught himself watching the man's ass in the not-so-revealing yellow turnout pants. This was not acceptable, of course, seeing as how Lyle was perfectly happy in his relationship with Orlando. On the other hand, he reasoned, this guy was good looking, had a nice body and oozed sex appeal so it was only natural that Lyle ogle the man... from a safe look-but-keep-your-grubby-hands-to-yourself distance, that is.

What was that all about, man? Michaels asked from behind.

Lyle turned around slowly. Robert was telling me that they suspect a grease fire.

You're on a first name basis with the dude already? Looks like it was more than just an informational visit.

If you're asking if we exchanged phone numbers or bodily fluids, the answer is no, Lyle informed him. We did, however, decide to go into business together. I will break into people's homes and steal the owners blind and then he'll set fires to cover our tracks.

Mmm hmm, Michaels hummed knowingly.

All right, all right, quit badgering me. A kangaroo also fits into the equation but if I told you how you'd have nightmares from now until... he began, his words being cut short.

A kangaroo... the big man said slowly.

And a duck, although the duck is pretty self-explanatory.

I think I've heard enough, Michaels said with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

So, what's the story with our Dieter Von Dieter? Lyle then asked of his friend who was still leaning against the car.

You were right; trouble at home. I guess he and Sheila got into a fight and for the past few nights he's been stayin' in a motel room.

Having not expected the depth of this situation, Lyle found himself wanting to take back the things he had said to, and about, Dieter. Damn, I had no idea. Why a motel? He's got you and me and we have plenty of beds.

Yeah, I mentioned that but he said it was better that he stayed in a motel.

Lyle shook his head. Well, that's just wrong. At a time like this he needs to be with his friends, not a strange bed with Magic Fingers.

That's what I told him, man, but he insisted that he was happy where he was.

He say what the fight was about?

Michael shook his head. Naw.

Lyle stroked his shaved chin with his index finger. Must have been a doozy for him to leave the house like that. I thought they were doing great together.

Everybody has problems, Michaels said with a glance back to Dieter.

Well, like it or not he's coming home with me tonight after work, Lyle insisted and had taken but a single step toward the car when he was halted by a strong hand on his arm.

Might not be the best idea, man, Michaels warned. I think he needs to work through some things on his own.

Maybe, but think what I could offer him? Home cooked meals, a ride to and from work, and we could even stay up late and do each other's hair. What more could he want?

Michaels chuckled. Just give him a little space, Ly. He then turned his attentions upon the fire-blackened house. Looks like they're mopping up. We should be able to go in a few minutes. I don't know about you, man, but I could use some lunch.

Lyle, who had been concentrating on Dieter's plight, quickly rearranged his thoughts to include his stomach and agreed that a big meal was in order, and with this, he and Michaels agreed that, although it was about twenty minutes away from their current location, their usual diner would be the ideal destination.

His favorite hamburger plate filled Lyle's head on the ride over with Dieter behind the wheel saying absolutely nothing. It would have been very easy for Lyle to attempt to engage in a conversation about Dieter's troubles but he decided to heed Michaels' advice and just leave the man be for now. Dieter's silence spoke volumes of his unhappiness and that, in itself, tore away at Lyle's insides. It also explained Dieter's aloofness and less-than-amiable mood all morning.

The three were a team: 'all for one' and all that good shit, Lyle thought to himself. They had always helped one another through the difficult times so this should not have been any different from the past, and yet it was. Dieter had shut them out of his life and problems this time, disallowing his friends the ability to help when help was most needed.

Once inside the half-filled restaurant, Lyle and Dieter took one side of the table while Michaels took the other, situating himself in the dead center of the padded bench. Menus were doled out by Christine, their usual and favorite waitress, and the three men sat in silence for a few moments pouring over the offerings. As expected, Lyle immediately gravitated toward the hamburger - that is until the Monte Cristo Sandwich caught his eye and at that point he found himself embroiled in a dilemma.

Anybody had one of the Monte Cristo's here? he asked his friends.

Yeah, Dieter answered. It's all right; nothing special.

Well then, I guess the hamburger wins again, Lyle replied and set his menu down. I just hope any cows that might mosey through here don't seek revenge on me for eating one of their own.

That's why I'm having a salad, Michaels replied, placing his menu at the head of the table.

You fink. You always make me the bad guy, Lyle complained. It's retaliation for my race enslaving your race, isn't it? But come on, it wasn't my fault. Besides, we gave you free room and board and plenty of work... not to mention the fact that you weren't charged for the boat ride over to this country.

Michaels shook his head, his smile broadening. Your people are too good to us, he replied sarcastically. How can we ever repay you?

By ordering the half-pound burger and then eating it in front of a cow and wiping your mouth with its tail, that's how, Lyle replied.

Dieter suddenly lowered his menu. Why am I the only one at this table who finds slavery offensive? Don't you have any idea how your ancestors were demeaned and tortured back then? he asked Michaels. If they were my ancestors I would be jumping down the throat of anybody who made light of that dark spot in our history, not making jokes about it.

Knowing that this had never been a hot button issue with Dieter before, Lyle could really see how hard the man was being hit by the fight with Sheila. Therefore, he was going to have to watch his words from now on - at least until Dieter and his wife patched things up. Okay, I stand corrected. You're right, that was a bad time in our past and shouldn't be taken lightly.

You're damned right it was, Dieter agreed gruffly, returning his eyes to the menu before him.

Lyle looked over to Michaels who sat shaking his head. It was clear that the man seated across the table was somewhat disturbed, although whether it was disbelief over Dieter's objection to his and Lyle's flippant remarks or anger over Dieter's attitude was in question. Nevertheless, Michaels appeared to be only a few seconds away from blasting Dieter again, though for the time being holding his tongue.

Hey, man, isn't that your friend from the fire department? Michaels asked.

Lyle followed his partner's eyes to the head of the restaurant where he discovered six men waiting just inside the door. Their black uniforms clearly shown their affiliation and this was further supported by the large red fire truck parked out front. Furthermore, one of those men was, indeed, Robert Nelson who had somehow managed to spot Lyle instantly and waved. Returning the wave, Lyle turned back to find a rather peculiar expression on Michaels' face.

What? Lyle asked.

You know what, man,