Page 81 of ClickBack

Her hands stay on my shoulders. “This Friday?”

“For the physical. Then we work out the rest.”

“Okay.” She looks toward the stove, then back at me. “That’s soon.”

“Yeah.”

The oven beeps. Neither of us moves until it does it again.

“That one I understand,” she says, and goes to get dinner.

We eat at the island. I ask her about the client who tried to put a boat under office supplies, and she explains how a man with three successful businesses can become helpless when asked to produce a receipt. I listen. I also keep thinking about my apartment, the people at the practice facility, the summer appearances already on Tori’s calendar. Giselle catches me checking the time and slides my phone closer.

“You can look at it.”

“I’m trying to have dinner with you.”

“You are having dinner with me. I can see your plate.”

There is a message from Von, sent after a pick neither of us expected.

Von: You watching this?

Me: Yeah. You got a minute later?

Von: Call whenever.

I leave it there. We talked about the possibility after Toronto. I want the next call to give him something he can count on.

By the time Cam calls again, Giselle is on the sectional beside me. I answer with one hand resting on her foot.

“The third team’s out,” he says.

I stop moving my thumb. “Why?”

“Medical review. They don’t like the guard’s scan.”

“Then change the piece.”

“We’ve been trying.”

I get up. “How long?”

“Jarrett.”

“How long have you been trying?”

“Since they raised it. I called you as soon as I knew this version was dead.”

I walk into the kitchen and put my free hand on the counter. The kid on television is still hugging people. His whole family has on matching hats.

“So what now?” I ask.

“We find another way to make the numbers work. San Antonio still wants you. Philly still wants the return. Nobody has changed their mind about you.”

“I’m still here, though.”

“Tonight, yes.”