We drove back with the windows cracked and Tampa’s lights blinking through the trees. I held the frame in my lap, both hands around it, and watched the bay appear and disappear between the trees.
“Brendan.”
“Yeah?”
“Eight days is a long time to plan something without telling anyone.”
“It is,” he agreed.
“Most people would tell at least one person.”
“I told Puck,” he said.
“Puck is a ferret.”
“Puck has excellent judgment.”
I let my head fall back against the headrest. “What did Puck say?”
“He dook’d twice. I interpreted that as enthusiastic approval.”
“Of the plan or of me?”
“Both. He’s perceptive.”
“And Gerald?”
“Gerald said nothing,” Brendan said. “Which I also interpreted as approval. It certainly wasn’t dissent.”
“You make important life decisions based on the silence of a succulent.”
“Gerald has never steered me wrong.”
“That you know of.”
“That I know of,” he agreed pleasantly.
I looked out the window, at the dark water through the trees. “I would’ve told Benji.”
“I know.”
“He already has a cocktail napkin about you. He has bullets with sub-bullets, Brendan.”
“I’ve heard,” he said.
“You should be concerned.”
“I’m choosing to be flattered.”
“That’s a very evolved response,” I admitted.
“I’ve been working on it.” A pause. “Rest your eyes. Four a.m. comes early.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Your shoulder has been doing the thing for the last ten minutes.”
I turned to look at him. He was watching the road with complete serenity, as though he had not just deployed my own shoulder against me.