He said, “I figured you had your reasons for not coming with me. And I knew you well enough to guess at what those reasons were. You wrestle with your demons in a different way than I wrestle with mine. You always have.” He shook his head slowly, contemplatively, rubbing his chin. “I was never mad at you, Harp. I want you to know that. I was just super fucking bummed, for a really long time, that you weren’t along for the ride.” He leaned across the table, his eyebrow arching sharply, devilishly. “It’s been a fun fucking ride, bro.”

Despite how much we’d already had to drink, when the server came over and asked us if we wanted one more round, we both nodded.

“Catch me up,” Cal said. “I want to know what you’ve been doing all these years. Figured you’d be running the family business by now.”

“Yeah, well, that didn’t pan out.”

Cal wanted details, and I explained to him about how when I first started at Harper & Sons, I spent years in the actual construction part of the job. “It was hard but really satisfying work. Building things is like moving meditation. You can forget who you are and what you feel when you’re using tools and making things. And when you’re finished, there’s something to show for it. A tangible object that represents your time on the planet.”

“Kind of like making music,” Cal smirked.

“Kind of,” I said sadly. “Maybe that’s why it suited me. But Bob refused to let me stay in that role. If I was going to take over the company someday, he insisted I start climbing the ladder. And once I moved into the office, every aspect of my job depressed me. Inputting data for time cards and cost codes, filing invoices, preparing liens, validating insurances for subcontractors, the hours I spent commuting in and out of the city every day, my gray cubicle. And let’s not forget Bob’s constant, condescending tone regarding my lack of leadership skills. I couldn’t please him, no matter how hard I tried, and I swear, each day shaved off a little piece of my soul.”

“So, what? You quit? Good for you.”

“Oh, it’s better than that.” I took a long pull of my beer and smiled sarcastically. “I got fired.”

Cal’s brows rose.

“You heard me. Bob fucking fired me.”

I stuffed a couple fries in my mouth, shrugged, and then told Cal the whole story, beginning with the argument that had resulted in my termination. “I’d been cross-checking a set of invoices and discovered that Bob had purchased and charged one client for building materials—considerably more than the project had called for—and then used those extra materials on another project, while overcharging the second client too.”

“That dirty dog.”