Page 70 of Johnny

I ignore the friend and stare at Johnny. “Did you shop?” he asks.

I lift up a foot and wiggle it at him. “Got these bad boys.”

He smiles. Chuckles a little. “Nice.”

“Well,” the friend says, extending a hand towards Johnny, “I’ll call you tonight and we’ll go over

details.”

Johnny takes his hand, steps around the side of the table, and they embrace. Not like casual friends,

but like old friends.

Interesting.

“Good,” Johnny replies. “Great. And thank you. I appreciate this and I owe you, Logan. You ever

need anything—”

“Forget it.” Logan laughs. “I will never ask a Boston for a favor.”

“Dude,” Johnny says, laughing it off. “Freebie.”

“No such thing in your world, my friend.” Then Logan gives Johnny a one-fingered salute and says,

“You’re in cabaña three just down that direction. Talk later.”

He turns away and walks off. I follow him with my eyes until the tank called Thane blocks him

from view, following along behind him.

“You followed me,” Johnny says, once again taking a seat.

I look at him and he gestures to the seat. So I sit and nod. I try to be truthful most of the time. When

I can. Honesty is almost always the best policy. That’s one of my father’s favorite proverbs. So I say,

“I did.”

“Why?”

“It’s pretty obvious why.”

“I like things spelled out.”

I shrug. “I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either.”

“Then you shouldn’t be surprised that I followed you. I’m actually kind of surprised you didn’t

follow me.”

“So we could follow each other?” He laughs. I think it’s a real laugh and that might be the most

surprising thing about the last thirty minutes. Nothing about what’s happened recently has earned a

real laugh. “Classic comedy right there.”