Holy fuck.
“Things have just been different lately.”
“I’ve let you blow me off twice now. This time I’m pushing. What’s different and why?”
“One of the members of the group passed away.” A huge lump formed in my throat. I did not want to talk about what had happened with a stranger, and as much as she was talking to me like we were, we weren’t friends.
“I’m so sorry.” Her tone was soothing and her face softened.
“So, anyway, it’s just kinda changed the dynamic now. I don’t know if they all hang out a lot or what, but I haven’t gone if they do.”
“Wait.” She turned her head to the side and looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Someone dying shouldn’t make you want to leave the group. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Do it. Tell her. Rip the fucking bandage off.
“I killed him.”
“You killed him?”
I stared down at the coffee table, not wanting to make eye contact with her, and nodded. “Yep.”
She sat up straight in her chair, her eyes glued to me as she processed what I’d just said.
“What do you mean you killed him?”
“He was a teammate and we were playing a game, one on one. He was winning and I am too competitive. The game got more physical than it should have, and as he was about to score the winning goal, I checked him from behind. He slid into the boards really hard and all hell broke loose in his brain. He died a couple days later.”
Her hand shot up and laid flat at the base of her neck as her mouth fell open. “Wow. I am so sorry, Viper.”
“Needless to say,” I continued, “I haven’t hung out with that group much lately, because, you know… it’s awkward.”
“Okay, I get that, but you didn’t kill him. It was an accident.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.” I leaned forward and snatched the extra water bottle off the table.
As I cracked the bottle open a light bulb near the door turned on, distracting both of us.
“Shit.” She looked down at her watch. “That’s my next client. And we were just getting into something.”
“Oh no we weren’t.” I stood up and took my keys out of my pocket. “That’s something we never have to talk about again.”
“Fat chance,” she argued. “I want you to come back tomorrow, okay?”
“Fine,” I agreed, “but not before ten o’clock. This early shit is for the birds.”
She walked back over to her desk and pulled her calendar out. “Damn.” She tapped her finger on the page. “I’m booked up tomorrow. You know what”—she sighed, looking up at me—“I have a lunch break from one to two. Be here at one—not a minute later. There’s a little deli one block north of here. Tell them you want a number four for Shawn. They know me there. They’ll make it just the way I like it.”
THE NEXT MORNING, I was up and showered early, ready to go. I wouldn’t say I was excited to get back to Shawn’s office, but I wasn’t dreading it as much as I’d been the last two times. I stopped and took a quick look at the phone number on my kitchen counter from the night before.
Madison
612-555-2369
I opened the drawer in my kitchen, tossed it in, and was on my way. A rainy, shitty day in Minnesota meant leaving the bike at home, so I parked my car in front of the Brown Bag Deli and hustled inside.
A bell rang as I stepped through the door, catching the attention of the middle-aged woman behind the counter.
“Hey, sweet cheeks!” she said cheerfully. “What can I get ya?”
“Uh…” I laughed. “I’m supposed to order a number four for Shawn. I have no idea what that is or what that means, but she said you’d make it just the way she likes it.”
“Ah! I know exactly who you’re talking about. Coming right up.” She turned around and gave the order to the cook through the window as I took a seat at the counter near the front.
I couldn’t believe the place was only ten minutes from my house, yet I’d never known it existed. The inside was decorated to look old-fashioned—black and white checkered tiles, tables and chairs with that silver rim around them, and a huge chalkboard with the menu written on it hung behind the counter. A huge glass case that held all sorts of cookies and desserts at the other end of the restaurant caught my attention, so I walked over to check it out.
“See anything you like?” the same woman asked as she walked up to the other side of the glass.
I glanced up at her name tag. Ruth.