Page 33 of Big Rucking Disaster

Then picked it up, took it to the closet, and hung it up.

My fingers itched to check my phone, but I’d promised both RogerandYardley that I wouldn’t until morning.

I didn’tneedmy phone. Nothing was ever critical. No one everneededme. I was just the guy to grab a drink or chum around with. For important stuff, we all turned to Roger. As elderstatesman, and father of five, he knew how to keep everyone in line and what needed to be done in a crisis.

Unlike me, who could barely remember to make certain my socks matched.

Because, frankly, who gave a shit if they didn’t?

Clearly not me.

But if my kid’s socks were mismatched? I’d worry people thought I wasn’t a good dad. And I wanted to be the best dad ever.

Since that was never going to happen, and being proud I’d lasted six minutes without my phone, I snagged it from my back pocket and powered it up.

Yeah, it exploded with notifications.

Swiping to literally delete them all, I searched for my address book. I found Yardley’s number and hit call.

Shit. He’s driving, you fuckwit.

He’d dropped me off seven minutes ago.

“Are you okay?” His voice came through the line, a little muffled. “Did you check your notifications?”

“I did not.” I puffed my chest out, even though he couldn’t see. “Are you driving?”

“Hands free. Through the speaker system in the SUV. I’m at a red light on Québec Street.”

“That can be dangerous.”

“I’ve passed Science World. I’m at East 5th.”

“Oh.” He’d made it out of the craziest part of the downtown. “Well, okay, then.”

“Why did you call me, Johnnie? Because it’s only been five minutes—”

“Nine minutes,” I corrected him. “Maybe even a bit longer…?”

A long pause.

“I didn’t think you’d had that much to drink.” A wry tone.

“Wouldn’t I be having a more difficult time telling time if I’d had more to drink?” That sentence made way more sense in my head than when I spoke it aloud. I wasn’t anywhere near drunk. Not with just two whiskies and a plate of shared nachos onboard. After I’d made my insensitive comment, Yardley had flagged down a server, and we’d shared a plate of nachos—extra jalapeños and cheese.

Thank God he wasn’t wussy with spicy foods.

“Are you okay? That’s my question. Do you need me to turn around? I’m happy to do it, Johnnie. I’ll be there if you need me.”

I’ll be there if you need me.

That was something like what Isaiah said to people when they were hurting.

Those words never came easily to me.

“I’m okay.” I blew out a long breath. “I didn’t check my notifications. I literally deleted all of them.”

“Good for you.” He sounded genuinely enthusiastic about it. “Tomorrow you can get a summary from someone—”

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