Page 46 of Plunge

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Fletcher

WHEN WE GET back to my place…well, Opal’s place, I show Thistle the contents of my refrigerator: a case of bubbly water, a few packs of cheese, and a bag of apples. She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous,” she says.

“Not gonna deny that,” I toss back at her, grabbing an apple and a can of fizzy goodness. “You still like the lime ones?”

She nods. We walk over to the couch and she sits beside me, wrinkling her nose. “What is that?”

I tell her what I know so far about this place. Opal’s got a year lease on it, but she had some sort of run-in with a skunk that sprayed my brother. She moved in with him and left the stinky townhouse vacant.

“You know, my parents turned all our old childhood bedrooms into, like, themed nature rooms,” I tell her. “When Ma has people visit the university she puts them up in the desert or the savannah.” I shrug. “It was either the skunk palace or crash someplace I might see or hear my siblings getting laid.”

She sinks a little more into the couch, looking sleepy. “I would probably die if I ever saw or heard Rowan getting laid.”

I sink down lower, too, and rest my head against the top of hers. “I hear he goes by RJ now,” I tease. I’m not sure what I’m doing, flirting with Thistle. But it feels right and it makes her laugh. She finishes her drink and sets it down next to her foot on the rug and burrows a little deeper into her hoodie.

I look around behind me and grab a blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it around her as Thistle drifts off to sleep. She sort of tips over and I pick her feet up, arranging her on the couch. I feel a strong urge to just crawl behind her and spoon her, but I don’t.

I pull out my phone and snap a picture of her, looking so peaceful and happy. Then I climb into the recliner and pass out.

When I wake up, the sun is up and I see Thistle bent over in my fridge, grabbing an apple and a cheese stick. “Hey,” she says when she turns around and sees I’m awake.

I stretch out. “Hey.” She taps her fingers on the counter like she’s not sure what to say. “I have to go change and stuff but I’m avoiding leaving because I don’t want people to see me leaving your place.”

I look out the window. It’s pretty early and I don’t even think the old guys are out doing Tai Chi in the grass in front of the library yet. “Is it so bad if they see you leave here?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I don’t fucking know, Fletcher. It’s just weird.”

“Want me to walk you home?” She shakes her head. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll call Archer up and distract him and he won’t even notice you come in late.”

That gets a grin from her and she ducks out the door with a wave. I snag myself a cheese stick and I actually do call my brother. “Hey man,” I say when he grunts into the phone. “You got any food at your house?”

I invite myself into Archer’s place for breakfast. Opal stands in the kitchen making eggs, humming to herself and talking to her fluffy cat, who seems totally healed. “Sorry to barge in on you,” I say to her, offering a hug.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s not sorry.” Archer booms into the kitchen and makes a huge fuss about packing his lunch. Opal just smiles and slides some plates of eggs onto the table. I dig in and they taste damn delicious.

“He’s right,” I say. “I’m not sorry one bit.”

I tell Archer and Opal the lite version of my trip to Philly. “This culture guy pulled some strings,” I say, which is true, because he personally called Anya to say he heard it on the rumor mill that I was on the outs with my new wife about my behavior abroad. I leave this part out, but I tell my brother that she was so tired of listening to Khalil talk by the end of the call that she said, “Ok, whatever. Let the fucker travel. Just make sure he keeps his hands to himself.”

“Not so hard,” Archer says, shaking an insane amount of ketchup onto his breakfast.

“That’s disgusting, brother.”

“You sound like Dad.”

“Well that’s the first time anyone’s ever told me that!” He grins and punches me in the arm. So I have to stand up and give him a noogie and eventually we’re wrestling on the kitchen floor while Opal scoops up the cat and leaves the room.

I’ve got Archer in a choke hold when he pinches my upper thigh, mighty close to my balls. We both let go and slide across the floor to opposite sides of the kitchen, breathing heavy. “God, that’s fun,” I say. And it’s true. It’s also true there’s nothing quite like the work I get to do every day, the work I’ll get to do again in a week or so when I fly to Bahrain.

“There’s just something about being home,” I tell him.

“No shit,” Archer says, standing up and clearing away the breakfast dishes. “It’s me. I’m the something.” He messes up my hair and turns to leave. “I’m going to work,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m assuming my helper is back in town since your sorry ass is?”

“I’m sure she’s at the office already,” I tell him.

I walk back home and call Abigail, who can’t stop gushing about how much Louie slept overnight. “I was so engorged when I finally woke up,” she says.

“Maybe call Diana with that info,” I tell her. “You still need a ride to PT this afternoon?”

“That would be great, Fletch. Thank you.”

I spend the morning going over emails with Emily and making sure things are lined up for our next race. I call a few network execs, shoot the shit about elections and my issues with my visa, and line up a little extra air time for interviews with the drivers and mechanics post event.

I’m feeling pretty good by the time I head over to take Abigail to Red Line for her therapy, and I realize I’m sort of excited to spend time in the waiting room with Thistle. I pull Louie up out of his car seat and look around for her, but she’s not here.

Louie and I walk over to the window and look outside and my heart sinks a little when I see Teresa McMurray drive up by herself and walk inside.

“Fletcher,” she says, when she sees me. She smiles and gestures at me with her cane. “You’re so tall, dear.” She pats my arm and continues down the hall toward her appointment. Alone.

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