“And maybe some rat poison,” said Todd. “Watch the ungrateful motherfuckers puke their guts up.”

“That’s the Todd I know and love,” said Sara.

*  *  *

The funny thing was, Todd thought later, that he was quite himself. Maybe not spending every night mired in whiskey was helping. Maybe the weight loss—which seemed to have settled on the good side of healthy—was contributing to his sense of wellbeing as well as his actual wellbeing. Perhaps it was the ending of his marriage (although there were some loose ends there), or the start of something new with Sara. Quite possibly it was all of these things. All Todd knew was that things had changed, and for the better.

He ran the tap and filled a glass with water.

“To the future!” he said.

“That better be vodka,” said Sara, and went back to her list.

*  *  *

No more manuscripts came back. Todd went out in the yard and swept up the ash where his writing career had been. It didn’t take long.

*  *  *

Mike called again, to check that Saturday night was still on. He still didn’t quite seem to believe Todd when Todd said it was.

*  *  *

Behm called again.

“Has the money gone?” said Todd.

“It’s not that,” said Behm. “Mr. Milstead, I’ve been following that lady for weeks now and she’s done nothing more exciting than visit her sister.”

There was silence on Todd’s end of the line.

“Mr. Milstead?” said Behm.

“Janis doesn’t have a sister,” Todd said.

“I guess we’re still on then,” said Behm.

*  *  *

There was a knock at the door, and then the bell rang; the person at the door wanted to make really sure that their presence was being registered.

Todd opened the door. Mike was standing there. He looked both nervous and eager.

“I don’t have any candy for you,” said Todd.

“What?” said Mike.

“You look like a kid trick or treating,” said Todd. “Where’s Joe?”

Mike looked briefly uncomfortable.

“He couldn’t make it,” he said.

“I forgive him,” said Todd, “I guess. Say, those flowers for me?”

Mike was clutching a small bunch of flowers, wrapped in cellophane.

“These are for you,” Mike said to Sara.

“Thanks, Mike,” said Sara. “I’ll go put them in something.”

Mike stood in the hallway, looking expectant.

“This way,” said Todd, pushing him into the lounge.

*  *  *

“Will you relax?” Todd said. “Sit back in the seat or something. You’re making me feel like someone died and you came to tell me.”

Mike’s smile was a rictus.

“Sorry, Todd,” he said. “It’s just been a while.”

“He’s not used to you being polite,” Sara said. “Insult him. Call him a fucking jackass or something.”

“Mike, you’re a fucking jackass,” said Todd, but his heart wasn’t in it.