Page 185
“Which is?”
Mack keeps looking at his truck.
“That there isn’t.”
I have four things ready and I don’t use any of them.
“There’s me.”
“That supposed to help?”
“Little bit.”
“It does.”
He doesn’t move.
He scratches at the edge of his jaw. “You haven’t heard from him.”
My teeth come together.
“No.”
“They might just be working through guys.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better.”
“That makes one of us.”
His eyes narrow. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you’re looking at me like somebody ought to take my keys.”
“I’m looking at you like you’ve been standing in a parking lot for twelve minutes.”
“You replacing that truck this year?”
“No.”
“You said that last year.”
“And it started every morning of it.”
“It idles like it’s thinking something over.”
“Two hundred and six thousand miles.”
“That’s not the argument you think it is.”
He laughs once, and I do too.
I push my hands deeper into my jacket pockets.
The left one likes that better.
“I’m glad they called you. And I want my fucking phone to ring.”
