He had never been to Laredo. He felt uncomfortable in the city. He had arrived the previous evening, having flown in from Nashville. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something made him feel uncomfortable in this dusty city along the border with Mexico. Maybe it was just the heat. It was only the first week of April, and it was already a scorching 96 degrees. Or it could also be the situation. He hadn’t really felt comfortable in months. No…make it years. Not since…..

He let his thoughts trail off. He had been standing in front of the address given to him. He had taken a cab ride across town to the address, only to discover it was a Dairy Queen.  It was almost 1 in the afternoon, and he was ready for lunch. And just as his mind had begun to drift back over the last couple of years, the person who had asked him to come to Laredo had arrived.

He waited for the owner of the San Antonio Calzones de Laredo to exit his pickup truck before approaching.

“Glad to see you Mr. Snow” he called out as he walked over to meet the gentleman who had called him out of the blue just two days before.

“C’mon son,” Snow replied, “let’s skip the formalities and get us some eats.”

And with that Snow opened the door and held it open for his guest. As they approached the counter, he had remembered his previous meals with Snow. The old redneck could be a bit eccentric, and when he was buying the meal, he ordered for not only himself, but for his guest as well. And you had better eat whatever he bought you.

He grimaced as he heard Snow order 4 chili cheese dogs, 4 orders of onion rings, 2 mint chip royal shakes, and two banana split blizzards. His stomach was still churning from the Laredo breakfast, chorizo and huevos rancheros. He felt for the roll of rolaids in his pocket. Mostly gone. It was going to be a long unpleasant afternoon.

They moved to a booth on the wall facing Tacuba street, where they had a lovely view of the parking lot, a dumpster, a pawn shop, and one of Laredo’s ladies of the night getting an early start on business.

He knew Snow wouldn’t talk much until they both had finished the meal and begun dessert.  Dessert was when Snow talked business. So he tried in vain to keep up with the frenetic pace with which Snow inhaled his food, but to no avail. Eventually though, he had managed to put away the two chili cheese dogs and the two orders of onion rings, and amost immediately felt his stomach beginning to rumble. Someday he was going to treat his body better, he told himself.

Finally, as both of them worked on their desserts, Snow began to speak.

“Look, terrible thing that happened to you. Not right at all. I don’t know what that ole boy was thinking, firing you like that. And not very neighborly of him either, firing you with a text. That ole boy needs to be taught some manners.”

He knew not to interrupt Snow, so he waited patiently as Snow ate a little more of his blizzard, then began speaking again.

“Ain’t no secret we need some help around here. And ain’t no secret you need a job. Can’t go moping around.”

Snow took another bite of his dessert and then continued.

“Fred tells me our farm system ain’t worth two nickels. Fred also says that ole boy we got running the show just doesn’t have a plan. So me and Fred, we got to talking, and we decided you the man for the job.  Running the farm system that is.”

He hated when Snow referenced his old hound dog Fred. Snow always made it sound like all his best ideas came from that flea bitten hound that was about as useful as wet bread.

“You already built one hell of a farm system. Hell, whole damned league knows that. Now, before you end up somewhere you don’t want to be, like New Orleans, Fred tells me I need to make you an offer.  So here’s the deal. You run the farm system. You run the draft. You keep that ole boy Higgins on a plan. No more of this trading away young players and all the draft picks. You nix any deal that weakens the farm system.  He’ll still run the major league team, but you control the farm.”

Snow took another bite of his dessert.

‘Well, what do you say boy?”

“I’m flattered by the offer sir, really,” he responded.

“But….?” asked Snow

“But I’m still working on who killed Bill” he answered. “And I’m close. And Hector knows I’m close and that’s why he fired me. If I could just figure out the connection to Baton Rouge and Jack Cobb, I think all the pieces would fit.”

Snow looked intently at Duane.

“Son, Bill is gone. He ain’t coming back. We all know that. And we are all a little suspicious about the circumstances. Ain’t never been anything right about that illegitimate and frankly worthless son of his. But ain’t nothing we can do but move on. If you want to keep working on it, your free to do so. But in the meantime, life is going to go on, with or without you. Bill was like a brother to me, a very drunk brother, but all the same, he valued your baseball knowledge. And I’m offering you a job, to keep you in the game, where you belong. And I’ll pay you double what Bill payed you.”

He realized he needed to find who killed Bill. But even more, he needed baseball. But Laredo? Working with Higgins? This wouldn’t be easy. But double the pay?

“I’m in. When do I start?” he answered.

“Today. Be at the stadium in 2 hours.  Isabel will give you a crash course on everything to get you rolling.”

With that, Snow got up to leave.

“Good having you aboard son,” he called out to Duane as he exited the Dairy Queen.

Duane realized he needed to call a cab. But more importantly, the rumbling in his stomach told him he needed a bathroom. And damn he prayed the DQ had the really soft two ply.

He made it to the stadium, after stopping to buy more rolaids.  He found Isabel in her office. She was younger than he imagined.  She was what 16? Maybe?

As he entered her office, she smiled at him and motioned him to a seat.

“You up for this?” she asked.

“I don’t know” he responded. “Show me what we got.”

“Okay, for starters,” she said, “the Calzones are beginning to come together, at least offensively. Pitching, eh, it might be awhile. But you need to know about the minors.”

“Yes. That will be my focus” he responded. “By the way, do I have an office yet?” he asked.

“Yes on the office. It’s the far end of the hall. Far enough away from that jackass GM that you will have time to cool down before choking the shit out of him”.

Duane laughed. “Yeah, well, he trades another draft pick that could become an issue”

“Okay,” Isabel continued, “the minors look like Dresden the morning after it was carpet bombed.  We have no picks in the first five rounds of the draft. And the finances are so bad that we will be lucky if the creditors let us keep our socks.”

Duane felt the rumble again. Chorizo and huevos rancheros. Two chili dogs. Two large orders of onion rings. A mint chip shake. A blizzard. And the job from hell.

He looked at the young girl as he stood up. “Bathroom?” he asked.

“End of the hall, make left, end of that hall, on your right,” she yelled out as Duane bolted from the room.

Why are the bathrooms so damned far away? Duane asked himself as he scurried towards relief.  And whatever the heck chorizo is, I’m never eating it again.