Archie glanced outside at the darkening sky. “Twenty-four hours,” he said. He picked a pen up off the counter and wrote a telephone number on a piece of notebook paper, tore the paper out, folded it in half, and handed it to Henry. “If you don’t hear from me by this time tomorrow, open this.”

Henry looked down at the folded piece of paper between his fingers. “Is this your will?”

Archie heard the toilet flush and water running.

“It’s my Visa number,” Archie said. “Run up as much as you can before they find out I’m dead.”

Claire came out of the bathroom and started toward them.

“That’s not funny,” Henry said, putting the folded paper in his jacket pocket.

Claire stepped next to them. “Did you open it?” she asked, her eyes shining.

Archie exchanged a glance with Henry, thinking she meant the paper he’d just passed him.

“The gift,” Claire said, looking at the two of them like they were idiots. “Do it quick, before I have to pee again.”

Archie pulled the present from his jacket pocket and unwrapped a white cardboard box. He lifted the lid. Inside was a round brass object, about the size of a Kennedy dollar but thicker, with a small knob on the side. It looked like an old-fashioned man’s pocket watch, but without a watch face. It appeared to be solid brass on both sides.

“It’s a compass,” Claire said. She took it from Archie’s hands and flipped a latch at the bottom and the top opened to reveal a compass face underneath. The compass arrow trembled and then swung to point north.

“Claire thought you’d like it,” Henry explained.

Archie did like it. Though he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it exactly.

Claire gave Archie a teasing poke in the ribs. “So what did your girlfriend get you?” she asked.

Archie’s mind went to the promised lap dance and he felt himself blush. He pulled at the collar of his shirt. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said.

“Whatever,” Claire said. “It’s been two months. Have I met her? No. If Henry hadn’t seen her with his own eyes, I’d wonder if she was your imaginary friend.”

“Susan met her this morning,” Archie said.

“How’d that go?” Henry asked, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Could have gone better,” Archie said.

“Susan hated her, didn’t she?” Claire asked, beaming.

Archie picked up his glass and took a drink from it. He wondered how long Susan would be pissed at him. Probably weeks. “Yep,” he said.