“Firm,” I replied.
He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve got nine on me right now. I can write you a check for the rest… unless you prefer cash.”
“Cash works best,” I said.
“No problem. My buddy dropped me off, so I don’t have my car to drive to the bank. But here.” He slipped me an envelope of cash.
I pulled it out and counted. Not to be rude, but you could never be too careful. $900.
“Mind if I take my new truck to grab the rest in cash? The bank’s just up the road. Twenty minutes, tops.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, pocketing the cash. “You know where to find me.”
Tom slapped my shoulder. “Perfect. You’re a good man.”
He slid behind the wheel and gave a friendly wave as hebacked out of the parking spot. The engine coughed once, then smoothed out, and the sound of its rumble faded down the street.
I waited.
Half an hour. Then an hour. Then two.
I stood in the empty parking lot until the sun dropped, then went inside to wait for MGM.
Tom wasn’t coming back.
The knock came justas I was finishing the world’s saddest dinner. Boxed mac and cheese, eaten straight from the pot, washed down with a flat beer. If Michelle were here, she’d steal a bite from my fork, laughing against my neck.
I stood and dropped the pot in the sink, still pissed at myself. I’d really done it now—sold my truck to a con man in golf shoes and somehow ended up with neither the truck nor the money. I’d ignored the red flags because I needed the money too badly.
God, I was an idiot.
I bet Tom wasn’t even a golfer. Then I replayed the outfit in my head.
“Nah, he was a golfer,” I mumbled.
The knock became more insistent. I walked over and opened the door. MGM burst in, nearly spinning me around on his way to the TV and the Nintendo game system Paul had given me a few months ago after upgrading to Super Nintendo. April and her fiancé, Tony, weren’t into video games, so Mitch’s only chance to hone his Super Mario skills was the two nights a week he stayed with me. Tony liked to tell me over and over how video games ate away at the brain. But look at me—I was fine. Then I remembered the golfer and my missing truck. On second thought…
Yeah, I wasn’t a big fan of Tony. He was the type of guy I’d hated growing up. A jock. You know, the kind that stuffed guys like me into middle school lockers. He’d played college baseball and never let me forget it. On the plus side, he had managed to make my kid into one hell of an athlete. Mitchell was the star player on his youth baseball team and well on his way to stuffing his own classmates into lockers one day.
“What, no hug?” I asked my kid.
“Later,” he called out, already settled into his favorite spot with the controller in hand.
I turned back to April. “Thanks for dropping him off. My truck is… having issues.”
“No problem,” April said, looking past me. “Where’s Michelle? And the kids? Mitchell said they weren’t home when he was over on Tuesday.”
My heart kicked once, hard. I wasn’t ready for this conversation. I kept my tone easy. “They’re visiting her sister for a bit,” I said. “Just girl time, you know.”
April’s brow arched. “Girl time? With both kids?”
“Yeah. Melanie’s got kids too.” I offered up a lazy smile. “Keepin’ them busy.”
I was hoping she’d accept my lie at face value, but no such luck. April had a built-in bullshit detector where I was concerned.
She crossed her arms tighter. “Scott, if something’s going on—”
“Nothing’s going on,” I cut in, too fast. Then I softened it. “Really. We’re just… figuring some things out.”
