Jason said, “Alan’s moving in with me. Said you threw him out.”

Was any of this a surprise? Yes, and no. She said, “So if I fire you, he’ll have to get a job.”

“That depends,” Jason said. “Are you firing me or not?”

“Fisfis buh. Go ask Alan what that means.”

“Hey, Lindsey. Lindsey, hey. Someone named Jack Harris is on the phone.” Valentina. Getting too close for this conversation to go any further.

“I don’t know why you want this job,” Lindsey said.

“The benefits,” Jason said. “You should see the bill from the emergency room.”

“Or why you want my brother.”

“Ms. Driver? He says it’s urgent.”

“Tell him just a second,” Lindsey said. To Jason: “All right. You can keep the job on one condition.”

“Which is?” He didn’t sound nearly as suspicious as he ought to have sounded. Still early days with Alan.

“You get the man on the phone to take back those six sleepers. Today.”

“How the fuck do I do that?” Jason said.

“I don’t care. But they had better not be here when I show up tomorrow morning. If they’re here, you had better not be. Okay?” She poked him in the arm above the bandage. “Next time borrow something sharper than a potato peeler. I’ve got a whole block full of good German knives.”

“Lindsey,” Valentina said, “this Harris guy says he can call you back tomorrow if now isn’t a good time.”

“Jason will take the call,” Lindsey said.

everything must go

Her favorite liquor store put everything on sale whenever a hurricane was due. Just their way of making a bad day a little more bearable. She stocked up on everything but only had a glass of wine with dinner. Made a salad and ate it out on the sun dock. The air had that electric green shimmy to it she associated with hurricanes. The water was still as milk, but deflating the dock was a bitch nevertheless. She stowed it in the garage. When she came out, a pod of saltwater mermaids was going out to sea. Who could have ever confused a manatee with a mermaid? They turned and looked at her. Dove down, although she could still see them ribboning there, down along the frondy bottom.

The last time a hurricane had come through, her sun dock had sailed out of the garage and ended up two canals over.

She threw the leftover salad on the grass for the iguanas. The sun went down without a fuss.

Alan didn’t come by, so she packed up his clothes for him. Washed the dirty clothes first. Listened to the rain start. She put his backpack out on the dining room table with a note. Good luck with the suicide kid.