Andy shook his head and started laughing while he watched Provenza shuffle toward him. "You're getting old, Provenza," he continued to laugh. He finally caught Provenza's eye, and the guy threw Andy a nasty look as he pulled his suitcase to the curb.
"I'm getting old? You are old, and you look ridiculous standing next to this car," he gestured at him. "It's even worse than the picture. Bright red and a sports car to boot. I mean, it's a great car, but not for you. You look like you are trying too hard with this thing."
"Hey, at least I went after what I wanted. I wanted a new life and a fresh start. I've done that, and it's so refreshing to be away from the trash we arrested day after day in LA. I like my new car. It's also much better than the hunk of junk I was stuck sitting in LA traffic each day. This," he gestured to the car, "it's nice, and while traffic here isn't much better, I'm not driving everywhere all the time. Walking, now that's been good for me. What's your excuse? Why are you shuffling?"
"Well, duh! I've been sitting on that airplane, that metal on wheels for six hours. Why do you think I'm shuffling?" Provenza rolled his eyes. "I'm lucky that I didn't develop a blood clot or something sitting that long. I'm too old to be doing this."
"No argument here!" Andy threw up his hands. "You can either get in the car or go back inside and book another six hours in that 'metal on wheels' as you called it. Your choice."
Provenza grumbled, "Well, I didn't fly all this way just to get back on the plane and go home. Besides," he rolled his eyes, "I've taken days off work I can't get back. I might as well stay."
"Then, get in," Andy gestured to the car. "I'll even put your bag in the back." Provenza nodded and then started to climb in the car. Andy walked over and took his bag as he flashed him a snarky smile and then walked to the back and put Provenza's bag inside. Once he got into the car, he glanced over at Provenza. "All set?"
"Ready as I'll ever be. Are we going back to your place?" Provenza asked.
"Yup, that's the plan. It's getting late, even for you. I know with you getting older, you're probably going to bed earlier and earlier. Are you hungry? We can order in something," Andy suggested. It was now just after 9:00. With the time change and long flight, Provenza had spent most of the day traveling. He nodded in agreement.
"Fine, just some food I like, please, and I don't go to bed early because I'm old. Right now, I'm starving. I had to eat crackers on the plane. I managed to squeeze a bonus bag of pretzels from the flight attendant, but that isn't going to hold me long. I start getting grumpy when I'm hungry," he stated.
Andy laughed and shook his head as he continued to make his way out of the airport. He'd met Provenza at the curb, and he was just as anxious as Provenza to get home. "You're grumpy all the time, nothing new. How about if I promise to order pizza tonight. I know that besides steak, that's your favorite food."
"Deal," Provenza nodded. "I expect I don't have to tell you what I like on my pizza, do I?"
"I might have moved, but I still have that ingrained in my head," Andy sighed. "Who likes onions, green olives, and anchovies together? Normal people don't, but that's right-you aren't normal."
The banter continued as the men made their way to Andy's condo. Provenza, who hadn't been to New York before, noted the landscape and how different it was in comparison to Los Angeles. The traffic was similar, too much of it everywhere all the time, but the rest was much different. It took an hour, but the men arrived at Andy's place. It was now a Saturday evening; Provenza had flown all day, and he was going to be in town through Wednesday. "This city is depressing," Provenza grumbled after they got off the highway. Andy was stopped in traffic, and Provenza had been quiet for a few moments as he took in everything. "At least in Los Angeles, we have the sun. The city might be crawling with its own criminals, but we have sun. I brought my white hat for nothing."
"It's dark!" Andy exclaimed as he gestured with his hands. "How can you say this place is depressing in the dark? It's going to look dark here AT NIGHT," Andy glared at him. "Besides, this place has plenty of sun. Granted, it's not L.A., but there is sun here. I like it. It's different. Yeah, they have crime here, but who doesn't? Why don't you stop complaining at least for tonight? We're almost to my place, we'll get you settled, and we can order a pizza and watch the sporting highlights."
They arrived at Andy's place a few minutes later, and after Provenza complained about the walk from the parking garage to the elevators, Andy just smiled at him and refused to comment. The two had been away from each other now for months, but they were picking up where they'd left off in LA. They didn't sound like best friends, now with the way they argued, but that's exactly what they were.
"Where's your bathroom?" Provenza asked as soon as they walked in the door.
"Down the hall," Andy pointed. He looked at Provenza who was now looking a bit flushed. "You okay?"
"Fine, just need a shower. I can't stand flying. I feel like I have the germs of 200 people on me," Provenza flinched.
Andy shook his head and chuckled, "You have to sit around with dirt bags all day every single day, and yet, people on a plane make you feel disgusting?"
"Don't ask me to explain it. I just need a shower," Provenza said. "Can we eat when I am done?"
"Yeah, sure," Andy waved. "Help yourself. You have the gray towels, not the blue. The blue are mine. You use gray. Need me to write it down?"
"I'm not stupid!" Provenza exclaimed.
"Just remember if you use the wrong towel, it's means you and I are sharing a towel and my germs are your germs," he smirked. "I'll leave you with that, and I'll order the pizza," Andy told him. The two men parted ways, and 20 minutes later, Provenza came walking down the hallway toward the kitchen now dressed in gray sweatpants and a Dodger shirt. Andy was still in the same clothing he'd picked up Provenza wearing, jeans, casual brown loafers, and a navy blue collared cotton pullover.
"Pizza here yet?" Provenza asked.
"Do you smell it?" Andy smirked and gestured to the kitchen as to ask Provenza where he might hide it.
"No, but it's New York, and according to you, there is pizza on every corner. It can't take that long to get a pie."
"It's on the way. Hold your horses," Andy shook his head. "What do you think of the place? You haven't said much."
"Well, you haven't shown me much of it," Provenza scowled at him. "How can I like the place if I can't see it."
"This is it," Andy gestured again and grinned. "Ta-da! This is the place. What you see is what you get. I told you I downsized. You were back there in the bathroom. That's my bedroom, and this is the rest of the place."
Provenza grimaced as he looked around to the open setting. He took a couple steps toward the television, looked at it, and then he walked to the windows. Andy had a view of the building across the street, but above the building, he could also see a small part of the skyline of New York. Really, he could only see a couple tall buildings in the distance, but he prided himself on saying he had a view, as small as it was. "It's small."
"That's why they call it a condo," Andy rolled his eyes. "Yes, it's small. I knew that when I bought it. It's not like I'm going to have a yard and trees with a condo. I like it. I like being right in the city, in the middle of things, and I like the building. We can go to the gym tomorrow."
Provenza turned from his position by the windows and gave Andy a disgusted look, "The gym? Are you kidding me? Do I look like I want to go to the gym?"
"No, but you look like a guy who needs it," Andy flashed him a smile. "Before you insult my place further, sit down there on the couch. It's new too. I have only had it a couple weeks, but it goes better with my condo. Old one I sold to some college kid in the building. Easy. I put up a notice downstairs, and it was gone within the hour."
"I thought it looked like a different couch," he said as he sat. "Leather. I'm not sure I like it. It's not bad, somewhat comfortable, I guess."
"Oh, far be it for you to actually compliment something," Andy rolled his eyes. "Well, enjoy it. Be glad you aren't sleeping on it."
Provenza's eyes got large, "Where am I sleeping? I'm not sleeping in there with you!" He pointed to the bedroom and looked horrified at Andy.
"Are you mental? No, you aren't staying with me. I have an air mattress. Actually, it's Ang's air mattress. You can sleep on it out here. I've got room. It's comfortable, and it's one of those nice ones, not just one kids take camping that deflates in the middle of the night."
"You promised me lodging," Provenza said as he eyed Andy and then made a face, "You'll know if it does deflate in the middle of the night, I'll complain."
"Oh, I have no doubt," Andy smirked. A knock at the door had Andy turn toward it. "Pizza is here." Andy paid for the pizza while Provenza got comfortable on the couch. He turned on the tv and scanned the channels while Andy collected plates and drinks. He joined Provenza on the couch with everything in hand.
"What size pizza did you get?" Provenza eyed it, his eyes almost sparkling at the size of the pizza box.
"No size from this place, just New York pizza. Here," he gestured with the box. "They make almost an extra-large size at this place, always leftovers. Go ahead. I got you your toppings on half the pizza, so eat that half, not mine."
Provenza opened the box and then looked to Andy who was sitting at the other end of the couch, "Where's the rest of the dough? They didn't let it get nice and fluffy?"
"Fluffy? I have known you for decades and don't think I've ever heard you use the word fluffy," Andy questioned. "What's wrong?" Andy looked into the box and shrugged as he looked back at Provenza. "Looks good to me."
"This is thin crust. You know I like a fluffy pizza," Provenza told him.
"It's New York style. Eat. Enjoy. Give thanks," he smirked. "You have free lodging, food, and let's not forget about that free plane ticket."
Provenza didn't comment after the mention of the free plane ticket. The two men settled into silence as they ate and watched the sports highlights. After his first slice, Andy looked over at Provenza, but before he could ask about the pizza, Provenza looked at him. "New York pizza is overrated. Sorry, Flynn, but it is. I need my fluffy pie."
"How can you say that? This is great pizza. Maybe you just clog your pizza up with too many disgusting toppings. That's what it is. No pizza tastes good with what you put on it. Don't even get me started on how much it smells. It's stinking up my condo," Andy waved off the open pizza box.
"Well, who can eat this much?" Provenza gestured to the pizza. "It's the size of California, this pizza. At least I have some for breakfast, and then maybe lunch, and possibly even dinner."
"Breakfast," Andy grunted. "I'm not eating this for breakfast. I'm making breakfast. Oh, did you bring that salsa? I was going to make us breakfast burritos. You'll love them. I've been dabbling in the kitchen lately, trying out some recipes from this California cookbook I found in my packing, and you'll see," he grinned.
"The salsa! How could I forget? Flynn, it's a good thing you paid for my ticket because I am so mad at you!" Provenza raised his voice at him.
"Me? What did I do? Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. You forgot about it until now. What was so bad that I did to you?" Andy asked.
"You asked me to bring you that stupid California salsa, that's what! What is it with you? They have to sell salsa here. Buy some. You just had to ask me to bring you some local junk. Well, I knew I couldn't pack it in my bag, so I decided to put it in my carry on. Would you believe they took it from me at the security checkpoint?" Provenza complained, now clearly agitated.
"Of course, they took it! You can't carry liquids like that. I told you to just buy it at the airport. The company website listed the airport as one place they sold the stuff. It costs so much to ship, and I didn't think it was a big deal to have you bring a couple jars of salsa in exchange for a plane ticket!"
"Those security idiots," he frowned and continued, "who do they think they are-baby cops? They didn't even want to hear I was an LAPD Lieutenant. They asked if I was on official business, and after that, nothing. No respect, and they said I could either mail the salsa or leave it there. I wasn't about to mail it-cost too much, so one of them is enjoying that salsa tonight at his home in LA. Took forever dealing with them, that I didn't even have time to get a proper drink before my flight."
"So, did you buy the salsa at the airport then?" Andy asked.
"No! I bought a jar before I got to the airport. I can't help it if security took it!" Provenza exclaimed.
"You can help it! It's your fault. They have signs everywhere about liquids. I told you no salsa through security, but you just had to prove something. You're so cheap that you tried to save a buck or two, only to have the salsa taken from you. I can't even imagine the salsa cost that much more at the airport," he sighed. Andy frowned and shook his head at Provenza.
"I didn't even check. They weren't going to get a second jar out of me," he nodded, satisfied with the choice he'd made. "I was just worried I was going to be pulled aside for some full body search. That, you wouldn't have heard the end of, Flynn, not at all."
"Believe me, the mental image is bad enough," Andy sighed. "Not that I specifically asked you to bring me a couple jars or anything," he shook his head. "Unbelievable," Andy grumbled. The two settled back on the couch and didn't speak.
The room was quiet, except for the sports report on the television, when a few moments later, to break the tension, Provenza muttered, "You know, I haven't tried salsa on pizza. That might help this New York mess you like so much."