8 Chapter 8

After a meal of stir-fried chicken and rice, I sat on the couch, determined to bury the day in a movie ofsome sort on TV. I was in the middle of Children of Men when my cell phone buzzed. The first thing I thought was that something had happened at work.

I snatched up the phone and swiped the screen so I could read the text. It was from a number I didn’t recognize. What are you doing on Memorial Day?

I replied, Who’s this?

Guess.

I was too tired to play games. You have the wrong number.

I set aside my phone and went back to my movie. Half an hour later, I received another text. It’s Titus,from work.

Shit. I thought about how he might have gotten my number, but then I remembered that the contact information—including cell phones—for department heads was available on the employee portal. So why was he bugging me at close to ten at night?

It’s late, I typed, hoping he’d get the hint.

Can we meet somewhere tomorrow or Monday?

What the…? I texted back. Why?

Why not?

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