He thought fast enough to get Zack’s code—hey, if I have some problem, what’s your code so I can call you?—but fuck, he can’t document the hit on some kid’s phone. He can’t suddenly use some kid’s phone for his business. Some phone that does connect to the Cloud and could send the photos fuck knows where.

And since he couldn’t document the hit, he had to let it go.

And having to let the hit go means no money, of course. Not collecting on it yet, like he was counting on. And no money means no rent payment.

And not doing the hit means risking not being given more. Not being trustworthy.

One little fuckup and you’re toast.

And that’s why he’s so mad. So truly smoking mad. ’Cause in a way this dumbass kid doesn’t understand, everything is suddenly on the line for Joey.

And that’s why just now he dialed the kid and hung right up. Just to rattle the kid. Just to confuse him. Just to add a little extra terror for missing Joey’s call. Not knowing whether to call Joey back or wait obediently. It made Joey feel a little better, upping the terror. But not better enough. He’s going to do a lot more, to really feel okay again.

10.

10.

Hey, it’s the Internet. There’s more than one way to reach someone. Zack opens the diePhone’s browser.

No, he can’t reach Steve through Facebook or Instagram, since he doesn’t remember his own passwords, and he doesn’t know Steve’s email, but he realizes there is another way to reach Steve. His little one-man Internet design company—he’s probably got a website of some sort, right? Probably with a contact email address. Zack hadn’t thought of it—the context of their friendship has always been texts and photos and parties and friends but Zack has sat across from Steve while Steve obsessively and desperately checked for any new freelance assignments. So Zack now googles Steve Furman Design and clicks on the site, and sure enough there’s an email contact. Yes!