Chapter twelve
Sully
Two mugs. I'd pulled two mugs from the cabinet before I'd finished waking up.
I stood there, hand still on the second one, looking at it as if it owed me an explanation. I put it back, closed the cabinet, and started my coffee.
Pratt had been on the road for five days. I kept reaching for things I didn't need. I went to the wrong drawer and opened the wrong cabinet. Twice I stood in the kitchen doorway for no reason at all.
I picked up my phone, found my sister, Tricia, in my contacts, and called her. I didn't have anything specific to say.
She picked up on the second ring.
"You good?" she asked. Nohow are youorwhat's up.
"I've got the day off. Tomasz wanted to train a new bartender, and he asked if I could switch days. Thought I'd check in."
"Before or after you unnecessarily reorganize something?"
"Before," I said. "I'm in recovery."
We talked about her kid, who'd recently discovered he could climb bookshelves. She mentioned a job meeting that achieved nothing in ninety minutes.
I asked the right questions, and she answered them. We went back and forth the same way we'd done since we were kids. I told her about meeting a beluga named Ansel, but I didn't tell her who was with me.
Tricia had a way of seeing through me. She'd been doing that since at least high school. She looped around topics instead of coming at them directly.
"Are you sure there's nothing specific, or—"
"Calling to call."
"Okay," she said. "You're allowed."
We hung up, and I got dressed for the day. My phone buzzed while I was pulling the Ironhawks t-shirt over my head that I'd bought in a frenzied Amazon shopping splurge.
Pratt:Soft ice this morning. Good otherwise.
That was Pratt's way of saying good morning. He reported on the surrounding conditions.
Sully:How soft? Ankle-deep? Are we talking marshland?
It took four minutes to get a response. He'd probably read my message, gone back to whatever he was doing, and answered when he was ready.
Pratt:Not that soft. Edges held.
Sully:Devastating. I had money on the marshland.
Pratt:You bet against the ice?
Sully:I always bet in favor of entropy. It's usually a losing position, but I commit.
Another pause.
Pratt:Reasonable.
I set the phone down. Then I thought of something else and picked it up again.
Sully:How's Columbus?
