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Chapter 18

He waits for the beep and laughs. “Damn, I didn’t know they still made answering machines like this. Talk about an antique! Anyway, Lew, I know you’re sleeping.” He talks quickly, picking at the leather covering that’s begun to peel away from his steering wheel. He’s going to have to have it replaced. “Don’t get up. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m just out here at the Lot and I wanted to let you know—”

A mechanical whine fills his ear, then Lewis growls. “I’m up. What is it?”

His voice is thick, congested, but Paul knows that’s the way he normally sounds upon waking. Despite the fact that he gets up with the sun, Lewis is nota morning person. Come to think of it, Paul isn’t sure Lewis is pleasant any time of day—morning, noon, or night. If he is, Paul hasn’t seen it yet.