Chapter 44

And that’s what I am, really. The binges are just something out of character.

Besides, if I call Billie and she wants to do dinner and a movie, it’ll keep me up late enough that it would be insane to entertain thoughts of calling Sam.

Before I head into the downtown Chicago off-white monolith I call home during weekdays, I run into Starbucks and grab a cup of that day’s blend, make it large. A little reinforcement for the day ahead. I know there’ll be a shitload of catalog copy to do for the Busy Beaver, the hardware chain I spend most of my time doing retail for. Busy Beaver…it’s so ripe for parody it stinks.

But enough. Today it’s the conscientious worker.

My cubicle, thank God, is against a wall. Which means I can sort of hide in it. Well, hide as best one can behind four-foot-high beige fabric-covered dividers.

I like to get in early so I can leave early. Most people here work until eight or nine o’clock, so they don’t come in until late.