Page 9 of Full Contact

“Fifty bucks?”

“That’s a photograph.”

“Signed?”

“She doesn’t have thumbs.”

“Paw print?”

“You can ask her.”

“I thought I was talking to her agent.”

“Her agent advises against it.”

He laughed and put his earbud back in. I went to the locker room.

My phone had a real-estate listing from Russ with no explanation, and another message from Varga. Somebody had edited the wedding video for a vertical screen. Peaches was still visible, along with Mark and the arm I had around the cat. Most of me was gone.

Varga: An improvement.

Trier: Rook told me there’s a frame available if you want it.

I looked closer at the picture. With it cropped, it was easier to see Mark’s face. His eyes shone when he laughed. I’d noticed that at the wedding, sitting close enough that our knees occasionally touched.

I put the phone in my locker and took a shower.

On the way out, I passed the offices. Most of the doors were closed, but Mark stood in his, talking to a young staffer with a clipboard.

“What time do they need the photographs?” Mark asked.

“Noon. But the new ones haven’t been approved, and I can’t get hold of—“

“Send me the new ones. I’ll get you an answer by eleven.”

“Okay. Should I call them?”

“Tell them we’re on schedule. We are.”

The staffer nodded, his shoulders dropping a little. “Thanks.”

“You caught it early. That helps.”

The young man headed down the hall, already tapping at his phone.

I’d watched Mark do that kind of work for years. People brought him problems because he knew how to solve them. In a building full of men who occasionally broke sticks out of pure frustration, I appreciated his talents.

Mark looked up and saw me.

“Trier. Hold on a second.”

I stopped near the turn toward the garage while he picked something up from his desk. He came out carrying his phone, glanced at the screen, then put it in his pocket.

“How’s Peaches?”

“Good. Her bloodwork was remarkable.”

He smiled. “Dr. Feld said that?”