Read Online Crude Sunlight 1 by Phil Tucker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Phil Tucker
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paused, on the verge of saying something lighthearted, and then frowned. "You all right?"
"Yeah, sure. I guess." Thomas looked out over the tops of the dark cubicles, at the far windows, and then back. "I don't know."
Buck leaned back in his chair, the hinges squealing in protest, his belly straining out over his belt, lowering his chin to his chest as he stared thoughtfully at Thomas. "What's up? Did you get in touch with Michelle?"
"Yeah, well, she got in touch with me, actually."
"Ouch," said Buck, wincing. "Not good."
"No, not good at all." Thomas tried to recall the anger, the outrage, the arguments he had used, something with which he could explain what had happened. But nothing came. Just sadness, a deep melancholy that promised at best numbness and sleep. "It didn't go well. She wants me to quit work. Leave New York."
Buck's eyebrows shot up. "Really? What did you say?"
"I told her I'd think about it."
"I bet she liked hearing that."
Thomas took a deep breath, and passed his hand over his brow. "I don't know, man. I was pissed. She put me on the spot..." Buck nodded, but said nothing. "It's just that she's so naïve. It kills me. Like she doesn't understand how lucky we are to have what we have. And it's always about what she wants, what she thinks is best for our marriage, what..." He couldn't do it. Couldn't come up with the argument. Buck continued to watch him, waiting. "Fuck it," said Thomas. He couldn't explain to Buck. He didn't even know how to explain it to himself.
Buck nodded slowly, his expression grave. "If you give me five minutes I can wrap up here. Want to go get a beer?"
"No, I'm fine, thanks. I should probably just get home. Sleep. Think things over, you know?"
Buck looked dubious. "You need to get that stuff off your chest, man. No good lurking around in your apartment like some ghost. Come on. First beer's on me. We'll get some hot food and figure something out. What do you say?"
Thomas smiled, but shook his head again. "Negative, Captain. I'm done. Thanks for the offer though."
Buck's smile died, and he nodded. "Well, okay. I understand. But you know I'm here if you need somebody to talk to right? I mean, we don't have to go for a beer, we can just--"
Thomas laughed, "Buck! Please, no, I understand, and really, I appreciate it. Maybe next time okay? I'm off. Take care."
Buck nodded, and Thomas turned and walked over to the elevator. He'd go home, have a hot shower, put on some clean clothing and maybe order some food. Watch television till he passed out, and then come right back to the office to work some more. Watching the numbers illuminate in order as the elevator ascended toward his floor, Thomas felt bone-weary. He'd work out this problem with Michelle. Somehow, he'd figure it out.
Walking into his building, Thomas was stopped by the concierge, who emerged with quick nervous steps from behind his desk to cough quickly and wave at him as he passed. Thomas paused, turned, and raised an eyebrow. Jose bobbed his head and took a sidling step closer, reaching up to adjust his immaculately poised cap.
"Mr. Verkraft, hello. Sorry to stop you, but you have a package."
"Oh? Okay."
Jose nodded again, paused as if waiting for more, and then quickly stepped back behind his desk, ducked out of view and came up with a bulky manila envelope. Handing it over carefully, he peered down with avid interest as Thomas turned the envelope around to inspect the writing on the front.
"It is from Buffalo," said Jose helpfully, reaching out to point at the return address. "From a Julia Morrow?" His inquiring look was met by a cool glance. Jose frowned, realizing that he had perhaps overstepped his bounds, and sat down at his desk to begin chewing on the inside corner of his lips nervously.
"Thank you, Jose." Thomas turned before the man could find another opportunity to dart out once more, if only perhaps to pump his hand and tell him that it had been his pleasure, and strode quickly toward the
"Yeah, sure. I guess." Thomas looked out over the tops of the dark cubicles, at the far windows, and then back. "I don't know."
Buck leaned back in his chair, the hinges squealing in protest, his belly straining out over his belt, lowering his chin to his chest as he stared thoughtfully at Thomas. "What's up? Did you get in touch with Michelle?"
"Yeah, well, she got in touch with me, actually."
"Ouch," said Buck, wincing. "Not good."
"No, not good at all." Thomas tried to recall the anger, the outrage, the arguments he had used, something with which he could explain what had happened. But nothing came. Just sadness, a deep melancholy that promised at best numbness and sleep. "It didn't go well. She wants me to quit work. Leave New York."
Buck's eyebrows shot up. "Really? What did you say?"
"I told her I'd think about it."
"I bet she liked hearing that."
Thomas took a deep breath, and passed his hand over his brow. "I don't know, man. I was pissed. She put me on the spot..." Buck nodded, but said nothing. "It's just that she's so naïve. It kills me. Like she doesn't understand how lucky we are to have what we have. And it's always about what she wants, what she thinks is best for our marriage, what..." He couldn't do it. Couldn't come up with the argument. Buck continued to watch him, waiting. "Fuck it," said Thomas. He couldn't explain to Buck. He didn't even know how to explain it to himself.
Buck nodded slowly, his expression grave. "If you give me five minutes I can wrap up here. Want to go get a beer?"
"No, I'm fine, thanks. I should probably just get home. Sleep. Think things over, you know?"
Buck looked dubious. "You need to get that stuff off your chest, man. No good lurking around in your apartment like some ghost. Come on. First beer's on me. We'll get some hot food and figure something out. What do you say?"
Thomas smiled, but shook his head again. "Negative, Captain. I'm done. Thanks for the offer though."
Buck's smile died, and he nodded. "Well, okay. I understand. But you know I'm here if you need somebody to talk to right? I mean, we don't have to go for a beer, we can just--"
Thomas laughed, "Buck! Please, no, I understand, and really, I appreciate it. Maybe next time okay? I'm off. Take care."
Buck nodded, and Thomas turned and walked over to the elevator. He'd go home, have a hot shower, put on some clean clothing and maybe order some food. Watch television till he passed out, and then come right back to the office to work some more. Watching the numbers illuminate in order as the elevator ascended toward his floor, Thomas felt bone-weary. He'd work out this problem with Michelle. Somehow, he'd figure it out.
Walking into his building, Thomas was stopped by the concierge, who emerged with quick nervous steps from behind his desk to cough quickly and wave at him as he passed. Thomas paused, turned, and raised an eyebrow. Jose bobbed his head and took a sidling step closer, reaching up to adjust his immaculately poised cap.
"Mr. Verkraft, hello. Sorry to stop you, but you have a package."
"Oh? Okay."
Jose nodded again, paused as if waiting for more, and then quickly stepped back behind his desk, ducked out of view and came up with a bulky manila envelope. Handing it over carefully, he peered down with avid interest as Thomas turned the envelope around to inspect the writing on the front.
"It is from Buffalo," said Jose helpfully, reaching out to point at the return address. "From a Julia Morrow?" His inquiring look was met by a cool glance. Jose frowned, realizing that he had perhaps overstepped his bounds, and sat down at his desk to begin chewing on the inside corner of his lips nervously.
"Thank you, Jose." Thomas turned before the man could find another opportunity to dart out once more, if only perhaps to pump his hand and tell him that it had been his pleasure, and strode quickly toward the
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