“Let me know when she get’s back from Phoenix. I’ll have you two over. We’ll grill a chicken.”

I tell him I will, then I close the door and watch them pull away. Once the cab is out of sight, I turn and walk up the driveway to my front door and go inside.

The house is dark and empty and feels too big for just me. I think about Diane and wonder what she’s doing right now. Picturing her touches something raw inside me.

I set my keys on the kitchen table and take a beer from the refrigerator. I walk down the hall to my office. There’s a copy of my book in the closet. I take it out and start reading somewhere in the middle, hoping it will spark some long-forgotten memory.

Instead, there’s just the familiar sick feeling I get whenever I think back to those wasted days. I don’t get far before closing the book and dropping it on the desk.

It’s pointless.

I knew so many people back then, and hurt so many more. The only way I’m going to find out who’s after me is if I call Gabby for help, and that’s not an option.

I sit behind my desk until the beer is gone, and then I walk back to the kitchen. I open the refrigerator for another beer, but I change my mind and grab the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black from the cabinet above the sink. I pour a good-sized shot into the bottom of a small rocks glass and drink it in one swallow.

It burns in the best possible way.

I pour another on my way to the living room. It’s been a long day, and the night is threatening to be even longer.

I’ll take all the help I can get.

I sit on the couch and sink into the cushions. Outside, the wind picks up, and I hear the branches of our ash tree tap against the window.

A few minutes later, thunder, and eventually rain.

– 8 -

At first I think it’s a dream.