Chapter 45

With one eye on the floor and the other on his phone, he sent Jeff and Fig a group text:

You’re right. I’m a jerk who spends too much time worried about work. Let’s go out.

And even though he hadn’t received a response from either of them while he’d showered, shaved, or changed, he still sent Jeff a be there in twenty, and Fig a be there in half an hour or so

He caught his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows on his way out the building and nodded at himself. He looked good—tight, black jeans and a tight, black shirt that he’d finished off with the polish of a shiny, grey jacket and slick, black, heel-clicking boots. The sky was pleasantly still blue, which meant the day was still young enough to be referred to as “day,” and that was also good. He was on his way to spend time with his friends, so they were going to be good, too. And if all went well, in another few hours, he’d be buried in somebody’s something and he was going to feelgood as well.