“ ’Cuz you seem a little tightly wound.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Exactly,” he says with a snort. “Believe me, I know the signs.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, then says, “It was just a fall. Kids fall playing basketball all the time. A year ago, no one would have even gotten upset.”
“Yeah, but it’s not a year ago, is it?”
“No, it’s not. Which is why I’m checking in.”
“I’m fine with the fall. I mean, not fine. But whatever. He seems okay and that’s what matters.”
“You know that you’re doing great with him, right?”
I shake my head. “That’s debatable.”
“No. It isn’t.”
He’s watching me, but I’m very deliberately not looking at him, choosing instead to study the frozen video game image on the TV like my life depends on it, but I know Z is still watching me. I can fucking feel his eyes trying to bore a hole straight through to my brain.
“So, if this isn’t about Logan,” he finally asks after setting his untouched beer aside, “what exactly has crawled up your ass and died?”
I do look at him then. “Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got?”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you’re the one who looks like somebody pissed in his Frosted Flakes. I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong.”
He looks so disgruntled that I can’t help laughing. “Nice to see the real Z is still around. With all those feeling questions earlier, I was beginning to think Ophelia had turned you into a total pussy.”
He reaches over and punches me in the arm, hard. I don’t complain, because focusing on the physical pain is so much better than dealing with the shit in my head. For the first time, I see the appeal of Z’s balls-to-the-wall boarding style. Of the pain he used to inflict on himself regularly, and still does occasionally.
He doesn’t say anything else, and for a long time, neither do I. Instead, I stare blindly at the TV as Z flips channels for what seems like hours. But then I reach into my pocket for a piece of gum and feel my fingers brush against Tansy’s card. Shit.
“Hey, can I ask you a favor?”
Z stops his seizure-inducing channel flipping long enough to say, “As long as it doesn’t require a blood sacrifice, sure.”
“What the fuck? A blood sacrifice?”
He shrugs. “Dude, usually we just say what we need. If you’re actually asking for a favor, I figure it’s got to be big. And bad.”
“It’s big, but there’s no blood involved! Shit.” I pull out Tansy’s card, hand it to him. “This chick came by work today.”
“Make-A-Wish?” Z looks confused.
“Yeah. I guess some dying kid is a big Ash Lewis fan. He wants to meet me before … you know.”
“Oh. Wow.” Z hands the card back and I ignore the little tingle of relief I feel when it’s once again in my possession. “That’s pretty heavy.”
“Yeah.”
“So you need Ophelia and me to stay with Logan while you go? ’Cuz that’s not a problem.”
“What? No! The kid wants to go up to ski camp in Oregon, see me snowboard and everything. I don’t do that anymore. You know that.”
Z’s sitting up straight now, looking a shitload more alert than he was even a few seconds ago. “He wants you to snowboard?”
Shit. “Don’t you fucking start with me, too, man.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m just gathering information.” He rolls his eyes at me. “So, if you don’t want me to watch Logan, why’d you bring this up? What do you need?”