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The kitchen was open to the rest of the room, demarcated only by a rectangle of vinyl flooring. The handle on the refrigerator door was loose and rattled when he pulled on it. “Water, Diet Coke, beer.”
“What are you having?”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “Wanna play hooky and have a beer?”
She raised her eyebrows in a yes.
He uncapped two bottles and brought them over. They clinked bottles before drinking. The beer went down cold and bitter. “Playing hooky is fun.”
He studied her for a second, then snuffled.
“What?”
“Be truthful now,” he said. “You’ve never played hooky a day in your life.”
She ducked her head. “My parents had great expectations.”
“You sought their approval.”
“Yes, but I was stricter on myself than they were on me.”
“No naughtiness? Not ever?”
“Not often.”
“Hmm. I see potential here. Stick around,” he drawled. “I can corrupt you in no time at all.”
“Jasper said you’d be ballsy enough to try.”
“He said I’m ballsy?”
“He did.”
“Remind me to thank him.”
He saluted her with his beer bottle, and she saluted him back, then walked over to the table. She set her index finger on the blank top sheet of a stack of paper that had seen wear and tear. “Your manuscript?”
“Or a pile of manure. Hard to differentiate.”
“I doubt it’s that bad.”
“Trust me.”
“Is this your only copy?”
“Only hard copy. I back up each day’s work on two thumb drives.”
She ran her finger up the curled corners of the sheets. “I don’t suppose you’d let me take a peek.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll give you an honest assessment.”
“I already have an honest assessment. Mine. It sucks.”
“Then a second opinion could be beneficial.”
He shook
