“Hmm.” While Lucy thought about it, Ollie took a left out of the garage toward Main Street. They were servicing ATMs today, which Lucy had likened to performing a rectal exam on a bear on an acid trip. Should be fun. “Fuck Tanya, marry Paul, kill Nana.”
Now it was Ollie’s turn to gasp dramatically. “Your own grandmother?”
“She’s ninety-two! She had a good life.” She shook her head. “Besides, what, I’m supposed to marry or fuck my grandma?”
“If you had different equipment you could be your own grandpa.”
“Funny.”
Lucy was doing the actual ATM servicing. Ollie could only watch from the truck since one of them had to stay in it at all times and he hadn’t done the training for the machines yet. He kept an eye out for traffic or any suspicious activity, but the most suspicious person in the area was a dog who was unsatisfied with the placement of his pee on a fire hydrant.
From what Ollie could tell from the truck, service calls for this particular bank’s ATMs involved ritual cursing of the gods along with the regular expletives. Theo would have enough money in the swear jar to put a down payment on a car. Ollie had the easy job. All he had to do was watch Lucy’s back.
He hated that it made his palms sweat. It was only early April. The truck’s AC worked just fine. He was in a small town in Connecticut. It was his brain that needed to chill out, not his body.
Damn, that dog could really pee.
With one final middle finger, Lucy finished swapping out the ATM’s contents. She stowed the old one in the back of the truck and slammed the door hard enough that the sound echoed off the library across the street. A moment later she clambered back into the passenger seat. “One down, fifty to go. Your turn. Velma, Daphne, or Fred?”
Chapter 7
THEO’S CLASShad another redheaded girl with incredible aim. Fortunately she was easily distracted with the calling 911 role-play. Ty needed a classroom management strategy. So far he was skating by on being the cool new teacher, which wouldn’t last.
In the field, it was easy. Ty knew what he was doing. He projected confidence. The people he worked with respected his experience, and the patients generally just wanted someone calm to tell them what to do.
Ty could relate. He was pretty sure that was the appeal of having a life coach.
Maybe he should hire one of those. They would probably tell him to quit this teaching gig—that he was going to be busy enough sorting out his dad’s estate for the next two years. But if Ty didn’t have anything to distract him from that, he would lose his mind.
That afternoon one of the batters lost his grip and flung the bat directly at a teammate who had been told four times not to stand there. Fortunately Henry had forbidden the use of phones during practice, so the kid was paying enough attention to jump out of the way. No trips to the ER today, Ty thought.
“Hey, hey, Pete! What did we say about throwing the bat?”
Pete was halfway to first base because he was the only guy on the team who could hit worth a damn. “Oh—oh shit, sorry, Coach.”
Ty made a mental note to stop by the pharmacy after practice and stock up on Advil, chemical ice packs, and other necessities. “Watch your footing!” Ty yelled back, because the idiot kid was about to trip over the base.
He looked at Henry, but Henry was dead inside. Ty could tell from the hollowness of his eyes. It was a rare talent for a guy to be able to project the idea of facepalming without actually moving a muscle in his face. Henry had missed his calling as an actor.
Meanwhile, the right fielder was still running toward Pete’s ball, both because Pete had hit it halfway to the next time zone and because Danny, the fielder, had stubby little legs and hadn’t anticipated him absolutely crushing it, even though Pete had never once hit the ball less than two hundred feet.
Ty had the feeling the next few weeks would involve some aspirin for his own headaches.
God, they were going to be so hosed on Friday.
Ty glanced toward the parking lot for what had to be the twelfth time since practice began. Still no sign of Ollie’s Honda.
Ty hoped he hadn’t changed his mind about moving in. He was supposed to pick up the extra key Ty had made on his lunch break so he and Theo could start moving their stuff before Ty finished with practice. They were going to order pizza to celebrate.
“Hey.” Henry put a hand on his shoulder, and Ty startled. “Whoa, easy.” He frowned. “You okay? You looked like you were not on planet Earth for a minute, and now you’re jumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
I’m fine, I’m just worried the first friend I’ve made outside of work in years is going to stand me up.“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, just….” Henry’s phrasing caught up with him. “A long-tailedwhat?”
“Good thing we didn’t tap you to teach listening skills.” A second pat of the shoulder and then Henry was off to the outfield, presumably to remind Danny to pay attention to who was at bat.
“Maybe if you didn’t talk like aHowdy Doodycharacter I wouldn’t have to ask you to repeat yourself,” Ty grumbled after him.
By quarter after five, they’d wrangled the kids into putting away most of the equipment, and there was still no sign of Ollie. The last few stragglers on the team were heading toward the parking lot to find their rides. Ty did a double take when he saw what was presumably Pete’s dad, because he recognized Mr. Chiu from his father’s funeral (though, since he wasn’t looking at Ty, he wasn’t wearing the expression that made him look like he’d just stepped in something foul).
