Adam checked the number. “Yeah. I think.” He sucked in a lung full of toxins. “The dork left his cell in LA. Got one of those cheapy ones at the minimart.” Adam hit the 1 button on his own phone for speed dial. “Yeah, that’s Richie, but he ain’t answering.”
“Shit! No wonder he never responded. I texted him at his old number—after team finals—after he caught me and Boog…”
“You texted me, too,” Adam reminded Ben, with a Clooney-esque head tilt and sparkling, playful eyes.
“After I saw the video. Yeah. You never…I…” Ben searched his brain for what to say next
“Kidding, Shrimpy.” The smirk was gone, and the eyes were suddenly sad. “What’s his note say?”
Ben handed it over.
I guess there’s no chance for you and me now. No wonder I never got the answer I was hoping for. I’m not mad. My heart just hurts a little. So, I think it’s best if I get out of your way. Good luck at all-around.