“Everything but my number then,” he finally says.
“What do you want me to say?I fucked up—I know that.It won’t change anything.”
“Sorry is a good start, if you give a shit.”
Sterling finally decides to join us, and I can see how much it means to Lucky for him to be the one to bridge the divide.“Of course I’m sorry.I haven’t stopped being sorry since I left.I know what I gave up.Why do you think it’s taken so long for me to come here?”
Lucky scoffs.“What happened to you?I know you’ve always been a surly bastard, but now you’re downright sour.”
“Why shouldn’t I be angry?It used to be that reporting on criminal actions put a stop to them.Now, it’s an advertisement for them.The world is in the equivalent of a ten-car pileup, and I might as well be standing on the sidelines, selling tickets.”
He pushes forcefully off his knees.“If I point out someone’s misdeeds, I’m labeled a hater.Call out injustice, I’m performing outrage … I don’t remember the devil having so many defenders.Live and let live used to stand for peace and acceptance; now it’s the slogan of people who never want to be criticized.”His chest heaves.“Of course I’m sour.”
Sterling leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.It stretches his button-up across his shoulders and biceps, the material taut.“I’ve missed you.”
Lucky scoffs.“Couldn’t have missed me that much.”
“You’re the one who told me to go fuck myself, remember?I’ve tried to forget you, but I couldn’t.I’ve dialed your number, but never called.I thought you’d moved on, that I would be dragging you back to something you didn’t want, and then it was one work assignment after another.I was always away, and I never knew when I’d be back.I didn’t want to do that to you.”
“You gave up so easily.You didn’t even fight.”
The pain they’re holding pills over and clouds up the space between them, fills the room like smoke, thick and acrid.
“You were better off without me.”
Lucky curses.“You’ve always been such a shitty liar.”
“Only to you.”Sterling lets out a breath, smoothing his hands over his pants.
“Was it worth it?”
Sterling opens his mouth, hesitating.He never hesitates.“That case made my career.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“I’m proud of what I’ve done, and it’s been hard.I’ve almost lost my job multiple times.I’ve brought down bad people, helped class action suits, found secrets people thought were buried or burned.I’ve done good in a world where that feels increasingly impossible.”
“I know.I’m proud of you.”Lucky’s voice is soft.“Was it worth it?”
Sterling’s gaze whips up to meet mine, causing a tremor to run through me.“Don’t ask me that.I—I can’t …”
I should leave.I’m only an interloper, and I’m clearly getting in the way of them being honest with each other.
Lucky follows the trail, finds me, nods to himself.
I don’t know what it means.
He slaps his knees, walking to the kitchen.“Drink?I’m assuming you still drink that fancy shit?”
“Whatever you have works.”
He brings back a bottle of beer for each of us, but my stomach is in knots so I wave it off.Lucky shrugs and puts the extra bottle on the coffee table, handing the other to Sterling, who takes it and looks at the bottle for a long time before drinking.His eyes fall closed on the first sip.
“You’ve done well for yourself,” he says, waving a hand around the room.There are records on the wall, a Grammy on a shelf, alongside a few smaller awards.“Not that it was in any doubt.”
Lucky chuckles, something tight releasing in his chest.This will be okay—maybe.“Pretty sure Chuck would have a few words against that.”
“How is he?”
