“Bad news,” Logan replies, snatching his cigarettes back from him.
Sam leans back in the chair, apparently already briefedabout the bad news, because he closes his eyes for a moment as Rockwell starts speaking.
“Cantrell won’t be coming back,” he says, stopping when the waitress sets a tablet with shots down on our table.
“Did he catch the flu or some kind of alien-virus?” Logan asks.
“Yeah, the flu,” I mumble while Rockwell reaches for a glass of vodka.
“Please, sunshine, not everything is a conspiracy,” Logan groans next to me.
“I’m starting to believe Vaughn is onto something with his theories,” Rockwell says with a sigh, meeting my gaze. “Cantrell died yesterday. His wife called me. She knew we were close.”
Now it’s my turn to down a shot.
“That was the bad news? Don’t know if I wanna hear the rest,” I say, running my fingers through my hair.
Breathing in deeply, Rockwell rubs his hands over his face, the cigarette discarded in the ashtray.
“Sanders is being sworn in tomorrow as the new General.”
“So we’re all unemployed starting from tomorrow?” Sam asks, pushing his tea aside and reaching for my still-untouched beer instead.
Logan is the only one who seems unfazed by the news, a grin tugging at his lips as he leans forward.
“You knew,” I whisper, and he wiggles his eyebrows at me.
Yesterday, he was gone for almost the whole day. He refused to tell Lily and me where he was going, only said something about a side project before he vanished. Wearing a dress shirt and matching pants instead of his usual attire, which did confuse us, but we try to give him enough space so he doesn’t implode.
“I visited Emerson yesterday, right after I heard about Cantrell’s death. Don’t ask how. I have my sources. Anyway,Emerson’s issues with the 203 run a little deeper than he let on at first. One hand washes the other, and sincesomeonetook care of the 203’s upper management, I thought it was reasonable to call in a favor.”
“Which means?” Sam asks.
“Your careers are safe for now, and my ass is at Emerson’s free disposal. Needed a new job either way.”
“Do you think that was a wise decision?” Rockwell asks, and Logan puts his arm around my shoulders.
“I know how much that club matters to you guys.” He shrugs, drinking a sip from his beer. “But now I wanna hear the weird news.”
“Well, we don’t need to find a way to get Carter out of prison,” Rockwell says.
“Please tell me it’s because they dropped all charges,” Sam says, stealing my beer a second time. “Please.”
Rockwell makes a face, scratching his nose to avoid looking at him.
“He was at the infirmary when he knocked out two nurses and used one of the guards to march out of there.”
“You could have filed that under good news,” I say, and Logan nods.
“Am I the only one who wants to meet him? He sounds fun.”
“I’m afraid I have to crush your dream. If he’s clever, he’ll never contact me or Sam. I hope he’s on some island by now.”
We spend the next hour talking, and when Sam starts pulling out his phone every five minutes instead of the usual ten, we wrap it up.
Sam arrived here earlier today, and since none of us looks forward to going back to base, he’s staying at Rockwell’s place until Monday. They walk together with us for a while, and we say goodbye to the guys when Rockwell’s house comes into view.
As soon as we’re alone, Logan reaches for my hand, holding it all the way back home.
