Bo jumped back. Lucky shouted, “No, Moose!”
Roughly one hundred and twenty pounds of white fur slammed into Lucky, sending his coffee cup flying. It hit the deck and shattered.
Damn it! Third one in a month!
Bo sighed, knelt, and scooped up the pieces. “That dog really needs some training. Did you get any on you?” He turned Lucky one way and then another. “No, looks like he didn’t get the suit.”
With coffee, anyway. Wet, grass-stained paw prints meant spot cleaning the jacket.
However, dirtying up his suit might be a good excuse for a casual Monday, even if Lucky’s day called for a meeting with a bunch of pharma executives.
Meetings with CEOs and court appearances—two occasions Walter insisted on Lucky at least pretending to look professional.
“C’mon,” Bo said, taking the broken cup into the house. “We need to move. Ty, c’mon. We gotta get going.”
Lucky let the pets back in, wiped the worst of Moose’s damage away with a damp cloth, and met Bo and Ty at the front door. Bo held out another cup of coffee—a steel cup this time—and smirked. “Try not to break this one.”
He bounded down the steps toward his Durango. Ty ran an assessing gaze over Lucky’s attire, smirked, and followed Bo without a word.
Moose sat on his furry haunches a few feet away, tail swishing back and forth.
Lucky lifted the mug. “Don’t even think about it.”
***
They sat in front of the school. No one said anything, though music played softly from the Durango’s stereo. Lucky turned his head as far as he dared and watched Ty from the corner of his eye.
Ty swallowed hard, staring out the window. Kids called out to each other, paired up or forming groups, and sauntered toward the front of the school.
They knew each other. Many had likely been together since first grade.
Ty was the new student, without even his brother’s support as he’d have had last year. Lucky never moved from his birthplace until he left home at eighteen. Never had to make new friends, learn his way around a new school.
“I’ll be here to pick you up,” Bo said, finally prodding Ty out the door.
“That’s okay. I’ll take the bus.”
“Ty—”
He’d slammed the door before Lucky thought of anything else to say.
***
The blonde receptionist looked up when Bo and Lucky strolled past her desk.
“Hi, Lisa,” Bo said, corners of his mouth turning upward.
Lucky grumbled something that might have been, “Mawnin’.”
“Hi, guys.” Lisa flashed a quick smile and returned to business mode. “Mr. Harrison? Mr. Smith would like to see you.”
No matter how many times people called him by his new name, Lucky still hesitated a moment before answering to Simon Harrison. In his own head he’d always be Richmond Lucklighter. One day he’d legally change his name back.
Whenever he found the time and the money pit he lived in stopped sucking all disposable income from his wallet.
Lucky passed Bo his computer bag. “Can you take this to my desk? Let me go see what the boss wants.”
He strode into Walter’s office without knocking. Walter expected him, right? Besides, in over a decade working here, he’d only knocked a handful of times.
