Late
Phone rings, Jerk answers.
“The News.” click
Phone rings, Jerk answers.
“The News.” click
Phone Rings, Jerk answers.
“Tiny ain’t here, Late.”
“Crap.” That was Late’s voice all right. “Jerk…”
“What’s the story, this time, Late?” Jerk could hear cars in the background. Highway traffic? He swore he could hear a truck’s engine brake, a sound like Tiny blowing his nose.
“I overslept.” He had something in his mouth. Chewing. French fries? Late subsisted on sodium and caffeine.
“Late, you live upstairs, in The Squat.”
“But…”
“I heard you snoring, not 12 hours ago, Late.”
“I’m past Syracuse.” It was a fact. Jerk could tell. Late was at a rest stop. Jerk knew the one. Jerk could see the wallpaper just thinking about it.
“Snoring in the bedroom next to mi– FUCKING SYRACUSE?” It hit Jerk. Late wasn’t just going to simply be Late. “Start driving, Late!”
“So about that.” Jerk’s stomach dropped. Late’s explanations were always matryoshka dolls—one excuse nested inside another. “I came out from getting food and noticed I had a flat.”
“So you called the auto club?”
“Yeah. And you know what?”
“What, Late?”
“They can’t come onto the parkway! You have to use an authorized contractor!”
“So you called them?”
“Yeah. They got here 30 minutes ago.”
Jerk breathed a sigh of relief. “So you’re on your way.”
“About that.”
“About what, Late?”
“The lug nuts are rusted on. Fused. They need to tow my car.”
“They’re towing you here? Down the street, to Danny’s?” Danny was a crook, but he was the best mechanic downtown.
“I can’t afford that, Jerk. They don’t take the auto club.”
“Tell me they’re 24 hour service…”
Silence. They’d reached the last doll.
“Late.” Jerk was calm. So calm. Jerk had never been so calm. “Tiny skipped out, Norma’s recovering, and you’re the only other backup I have right now.”
“Jerk, I… I’ll try. I’m sorry.” Line went dead. No more discussion, but no more excuses either. Late wasn’t just late. He was Late. No ETA.
“I KNEW IT!” Jerk yelled at the empty store.