Page 10 of Stitch
He ran a hand through his greying hair.
“Is it ever?” He joined her in the office, and the door closed, and for the first time in my career, I wished I could hear what was going on in that room. They clearly knew each other well, which maybe meant he was her patient already, but he didn’t look or behave like an addict, so it had to be some other issue.
He was only in there about ten minutes, and returned, nodding his head at me on the way out.
Lissa looked worried as she joined me at the reception desk.
“He wants me to meet with Stitch, his VP. Apparently he’s not doing great. He’sthe one who’s been away, dealing with some health stuff.”
As usual that’s too little information. I tried to remember if I’d even met someone called Stitch last night.
“What is with them and these weird ambiguous road names? Like they have to know we’re desperate to know why the fuck they’re called these things. Does he stitch people up? Is it a figurative thing? Literal? Ironic?”
Lissa giggled, shrugging her shoulders.
“No idea, but just be prepared, because if he comes here, he’s not doing it willingly. He’ll probably be in a mood. I don’t think you’ve met him yet. I saw him briefly at the party last night, I mean, it was his party.”
I hadn’t been aware it was a party as such. I thought it was just a bunch of guys getting pissed. Lissa disappeared back into her office, and I killed time fussing with the laptop, and making us coffees for the rest of the morning.
Seven
After my failed attemptto ride last night, I’d gone back to the bar to find a bottle of anything I could drink my sorrows away with, and went back outside to sit on the hard ground, leaning against my bike, drinking until I fell asleep, hell, or passed out. Whatever.
“The fuck are you doing out here? Did you sleep there?” Reacher was towering over me when I woke up, having slid down onto the concrete at some point. No wonder everything fucking hurt.
I pushed up from the ground, and grimaced as I heard something glass land softly on the concrete. I’d knocked over what was left of… was that fucking tequila? I didn’t even normally drink that crap.
Reacher grimaced, moving down onto the ground beside me.
“You know I’m getting too old for this shit, right?”
Ouch. I glared at him. “Thank you for the reminder that I won’t get to do that, man. That’s fucking cold.”
He frowned at me for a moment, and then his expression changed. Understanding? Did he finally get with the program?
“Brother, you’re not gonna die, for fuck’s sake. It might not even be cancer. You’re still waiting right? You didn’t get some news?”
I leaned back against my bike again, wondering why the fuck it was so uncomfortable today.
“It’s gonna be, Reacher. I can feel it growing in me. Eating up everything good, andleaving disease behind. I… fuck me… maybe I only have months left, and I keep thinking I’m wasting them. I’m sitting on my ass, and I’m telling myself there’s no point, but if this is all I have, why the fuck can’t I get out and live?”
He tried leaning against his own bike, and it wobbled.
“Fuck. How are you doing that?”
I shrugged. “Angles, I dunno. Why, though, man, why am I sitting here vegetating when the last of my life is going on without me? Why don’t I have the…fuck…” I was gonna say ‘balls’. Why didn’t I have the balls to get on with things… I couldn’t even joke like that anymore.
“I literally don’t have the fucking balls anymore, do I? Did my courage go with it? Was that one nut where all my fucking bravery was?”
Reacher was staring at me, his mouth hanging slightly open.
“The fuck? Look, I can’t help you with this intensely deep and meaningful shit, and I’m not really looking to delve into the subject of your balls and what was in them. I do have a suggestion though.”
“I swear to god, if it’s to ‘man up’, I’m gonna kick you so hard in your balls, they’ll condense into one, and you’ll be like me. See how you like it.”
He edged away slightly, looking horrified.
“Actually, I was gonna suggest you talk to Ice’s old lady, Lissa. She’s a therapist. She’s the one who helped him.”
