Page 45 of After Felix
My head is about to blow up like a kettle, steaming and rattling. “Couldn’t yougoogleit like a normal person?” I shout and it’s very loud.
“Felix.” Andrew gestures to me and I get up, admonishing Max to stay where he is. He obeys with an angelic look on his face. Andrew pulls me gently to one side. “Babe, your snark is out of control. Maybe you should dial it down. You did run him over after all.”
“I’m just sorry I didn’t get his jaw,” I say loudly and see Max smile out of the corner of my eye.
I pace back over to him. “Is your arm broken?” I ask.
He gives a one-shouldered sort of shrug. “Probably just a sprain. I bumped my head on the car, and when I fell, I landed on my arm. It hurts a bit, but I’m fine.”
I wonder if that means he’s in agony. Max learnt incredible stoicism as well as good grammar while he was a journalist.
I groan. “Motherfucker. Look at you. Put your hand up.”
He smirks. “What for? Detroit?”
“You are not funny despite your numerous attempts at it.” I pull off my flannel shirt and fashion a sling from it, easing his arm into it gently. He lets me work with an entirely too innocent expression on his face. “God, you’re a fucking idiot,” I grumble. “Could this day get anyworse?” I sigh.
“Why have you had a bad day?” Max asks immediately. His expression clouds over. “Didhedo something?”
“Who?” I ask.
He nods toward Andrew.
“Oh no.” I wave a hand in rebuttal and turn to Andrew. “Andrew, this is Max,” I say. “Don’t shake his other hand. With my luck, his whole arm will drop off.”
“You know, Felix, what I really love about you is your ability to tap into your compassion at a second’s notice,” Max observes.
I glare at him. “Just be glad I’m not tapping into a nearby stick. Because I’d probably beat you over the head with it today.”
Andrew has been staring at Max, and he suddenly exclaims, “You’re Max Travers.”
Max’s humour dies away. “I am,” he says coolly.
“That’s excellent. I followed you when you were a journalist and Felix bought me a copy of your book for my birthday.”
“Did hereally?” Max glances at me with a gleeful expression.
I blush. “It’s only right to help the older generation along,” I say quickly. “Money in your pocket, Max. You can buy yourself another Zimmer.”
Max chuckles. “Felix has a realfeelfor bookshops,” he says toAndrew in a conversational tone. How he manages it while sitting on the ground with one arm in a sling, is beyond me, but he does. Sometimes I envy his sangfroid.
“Really?” Andrew sounds offensively surprised.
The glee on Max’s face intensifies. “Yes, he gets somuchout of bookshops. Why, when I met him for the first time it was in a bookshop and then he did this thing with his?—”
“Oh myGod,” I say loudly, drowning out his voice. “We’ve—” I falter for inspiration. “We’ve got some papers for you to sign.”
Max makes an apologetic face. “Darling, I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of commission at the moment as a result of you mangling my arm.”
“Mangling? You didn’t get it caught in a combine harvester. Put the pen in your mouth, then, and do it for England,” I snap. “And don’t call me darling,” I add as an afterthought.
“Felix,” Andrew says in a shocked tone.
At that moment an old lady steps out of the cottage and walks towards us, doing up her coat as she goes.
“See you tomorrow, Mr Travers,” she snaps at Max.
I gape at her. Does she not see what’s happening?
