“More than you realize.” Bo chuckled.
“Well, I’m glad you find humor in my frustration and anguish.”
“He’s not coming.”
“What?”
“Dale. He’s not coming.”
Ralph paused, hopeful... then reality sank in. “It doesn’t matter, Bo. You guys are together. I respect that. I got no business sticking my lousy nose into your life.”
“We broke up, Ralph.”
Ralph was quiet. He was staring at the digital readout on the dash and saw the outside temperature drop another degree. “Aw, Bo. I’m sorry.”
“Nice try. I don’t buy it, but I’ll give you a B minus. And while we’re making confessions here, I guess I need to let you know something as well.”
Ralph waited, not sure but hoping he might know what Bo was going to say.
“I’m squatting on Joey Drive.”
“You’re—” But Ralph didn’t finish. He started laughing. And the more he thought about it, the funnier it got.
“I’m fired, right?” Bo said. “I knew it. I’m fired. Am I fired?”
“No, you’re not fired,” Ralph said, still laughing.
“Well, I’m glad you find my despair and homelessness so funny.”
“You don’t sound that despairing.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m not.”
“You hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
“Good, because I’ve got a shit-ton of Chinese food in my passenger seat.”
8
Bo ended the call on his phone and checked his watch. It was close to four. He probably had a half hour at most before Ralph would be there.
He cranked his truck and made for the Wal-Mart exit. The store was close to their rendezvous. He’d be there in five minutes or less.
When he arrived at the modest ranch on Joey Drive, he grabbed his purchases and his bag and hauled them inside.
Wow. He thought.Of course, it’s a mess. You hadn’t planned on moving in.
There was no furniture. New hardwoods were throughout the remodeled open floor-plan—and he saw a layer of sawdust on the floor where he’d been working last.
It’s cold in here.
There was a counter dividing the kitchen from the den. He placed the bags there and immediately went to the thermostat and turned the heat on.
Out back, he gathered firewood and brought it in. Using a discarded day-old copy of the Baltimore Sun, he laid a fire. When lit, it crackled to life quickly.
Next, he took a broom and swept up the sawdust, dumping it into a five-gallon paint bucket he’d been using as a trash can.
