Chapter 8

Sunday, I drove forty-five minutes to his place. It was in a cul-de-sac, nestled in trees. The neighborhood had kids running around in the street and riding bicycles or doing skateboard tricks. I parked and went up to his door. Before I could knock, it opened.

“You made it okay, I see,” Bruce greeted me and stepped back so I could enter. He closed the door behind me.

“It wasn’t that hard to find.”

I looked around the living room. It was sparsely furnished, and a few bookshelves took over one wall. They were stuffed full of tomes. A glass door to my left led to a deck overlooking a view of fresh cut grass and shady trees. I headed in that direction.

“This place is amazing,” I said as I took it all in.

“Glad you like it. Here’s a Guinness, since I know you like them.”