Page 123 of Something Like Hail

Just promise me nobody will throw a cheesebiscuit at my head.

Noah needed a moment tointerpret this.You’re at work?

Yup.

And someone is pelting you withbiscuits?

Just one,Felix wrote back.Atoddler with impressive aim. Got me right in the ear. Then again,how could he miss?

Noah laughed.Don’t wash that ear. I want to lick it cleantonight. I’ll pick you up at five? Is that too early?

Yes! I mean no, that’s not too early. Theyes is to everything else. Tonight!

Noah grinned.I’ll see you then.

He checked his phone, stillnot finding a client for the evening. That was unusual for aSaturday, confirming his suspicions: Marcello wasn’t happy withhim. He decided to ignore this and catch up on his reading. Noahsat on the couch, picked up a book, and had turned three pagesbefore realizing he hadn’t taken in any of the words. He was stilltoo distracted. Was he unemployed now? What if Marcello was onlysearching for an appropriately terrible client to punish him with,like the guy who enjoyed slapping his lovers a little too much? Notenough to bruise or hurt, but enough to getreallyannoying. That would alsowreck his plans for the evening, so he chose to stop wondering andfind out. A text wouldn’t cut it. He called instead, tense as thefifth ring was interrupted by a voice.

“Ten minutes,” Marcellosaid before hanging up again.

He supposed that was better than a simple“fuck off.” Noah closed his book and waited, trying to imagine avariety of scenarios and appropriate responses. He was caught offguard anyway, because when the call was returned, it was of thevideo variety. Marcello wanted to see his face as they spoke,probably to assess if he was telling the truth. Or to watch himsquirm.

“Did you enjoy your trip?”Marcello asked. The scene was the studio’s top floor office, hisboss seated behind a desk covered with stacks of papers and photos.Marcello meant business. Had he been relaxing on one of thecouches, that would have implied a more amiable temperament. Thedeskalwaysmeantbusiness.

Noah chose his answer carefully. “The visitwith Ryan was… productive.”

“How so?”

“He just needed to get itout of his system. Ryan’s waited years to talk to Tim, and not onlythat, but he’s doing good in other ways. He’s clean, a lot lessangry, and he says he’s found God.”

“Congratulations,” Marcellosaid. “Perhaps Ryan would be so kind as to inform God that the restof the world is wondering where he went.”

“My point is that Ryan isdoing a lot better.”

“I care not for hisfeelings,” Marcello said dismissively.

“I do,” Noah shot back,“and he needed this. Tim did too, since he also got a few thingsoff his chest.”

“I heard.” Marcello didn’tseem interested in the conversation. Instead he shuffled a stack ofchecks into an order and set them aside. “Mr. Wyman just left. Hehad some very nice things to say about you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Marcello lookeddirectly into the camera. “I place an exceedingly high value ondiscretion.”

Did he mean a bribe to stay silent? Or areward for already agreeing to not mention the death threat? Eitherway… “I’ve always been a big fan of forgiveness myself.”

Marcello considered these words and nodded.“Forgiveness it shall be. Some of us need it more than others,myself included, although I’m afraid I still can’t extend mysympathies to Ryan.”

“I don’t expect you to,”Noah said.

“How was his demeanor afterTim stormed out of the prison?”

Noah took a deep breath. “He gets it. Ryanfinally accepts that he and Tim have severed all ties.”

“And what of yourrelationship with Ryan?”

“I’ll be there for him,”Noah said firmly. “As his friend.”

Marcello cocked an eyebrow. “Do you thinkthat wise?”