Page 19 of Catcher's Lock

He leaves it alone for all of fifteen seconds.

“When?”

“September before last.”A month after I lost you. I don’t say it, but the hitch in his breathing tells me he does the math.

“I’m sorry.”

Oh, but for what,Quill?

“Why? He was a depressed, angry drunk who never liked you. He barely liked me by the end.”

“He was still your dad.”

“Hals is a better one.” It’s a low blow, poking at too many vulnerable valleys between us, but he drops the subject, so I don’t regret it.

I turn on the radio and tune it to a country station. Petty,sure, but he only pulls out his phone and doesn’t comment. Since the music sort of sucks, I only get surlier the longer he ignores it.

“Take a left at the next light,” he says eventually, as if we’ve been chatting the whole time and I asked for his fucking directions.

“Why?”

“I gotta make a stop.”

“For what? I’m not swinging by some dealer’s so you can replenish your stash.”

“Fuck you very nicely, but that’s not why I need to stop.”

“Then tell me why.”

“Fine. I need cash, okay? I had enough to pay for twenty-four hours of impound, but not the whole weekend. If we’re gonna be around for a few days anyway, I can work.”

“You have a job?” There’s no way he can miss the skepticism in my voice. “What the fuck am I doing here, then?”

“It’s not that kind of job.”

“You’re not exactly instilling me with a lot of confidence, Farrel.”

“It’s nothing illegal, I swear. This is the turn.”

“Two days.”

“What?”

“Twodays. Monday morning, we’re grabbing your bike and getting the hell out of here.”

“All I need is one night.”

Our destination turns out to be a run-down strip mall tucked behind a twenty-four-hour CVS and sporting a liquor store, a questionable Chinese takeout joint, and a seedy-looking club with a sign that reads “Tippy’s” above a mildly alarming neon peacock in a top hat.

“You don’t have a gun or anything, right? I’m not gonna beyour getaway driver if you rob a liquor store.”

“Jesus. I told you it wasn’t illegal. You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

I grunt.

Oh, but once upon a time…

“I missed this.” He sounds wistful, and I shoot him a doubtful look.