Page 5 of Double Delivery
He let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. And I don’t even know where I’d move to. I like my job and my route. My rent’s good, and my apartment’s decently close to work and the stores. There’s no reason to move, except it just doesn’t feel right.”
I nodded.
“Wanna trade for a few days?” he joked.
I snorted and let out what felt like the first real laugh in weeks. “And let you around my shit?”
“It’s not as if you don’t know where I work.”
“Oh yeah, there’s a plan: walk right into enemy territory and accuse you of stealing or fucking up my stuff.”
“You’re forgetting one big detail.”
“What’s that?”
“You’d only need to do that if I stole or fucked shit up.”
I flipped him off.
Tripp laughed. “I’m not opposed to bottoming if you’re that hard up.”
“Do you think about anything other than sex?”
“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You like it.”
I snorted. “What makes you say that?”
“You haven’t told me to fuck off yet.”
“Would you listen if I did?”
“It’s a public bar. Means I can sit here just the same as you.”
“So that’s a no.”
He laughed, then there was a pause as he took a drink. “You delivered to the house with the moving truck yet?”
“Which one?” I asked, even though I knew exactly which house he meant. “How many moving trucks do we see?”
He elbowed me. “Don’t be an ass.”
I sighed and turned to stare at the glasses lining the back of the bar. “No. I haven’t delivered there yet.”
“Me neither,” he replied. “But my boss has already told me to expect regular pickups there.”
I nodded. “Same. Something about a home business.”
“Yep.”
Another pause as we both took a moment to drink.
“Wanna play darts, or shoot pool, or something?” Tripp asked. “So we’re not both sitting here like sad sacks?”
I blew out a long breath, finished my beer, and stood. “I think I’m gonna head home.”
