7 Chapter 7

I got home around eleven o’clock and went to bed, disillusioned with the world.

* * * *

“You’re ten minutes early. What, you didn’t fuck anybody last night?” Adrian taunted me on Friday morning as he handed over the day’s orders, and the truck keys.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I said, but without my usual devil-may-care flair. He noticed, of course.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian stared like he was trying to see through me.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.” I walked to the trailer door and said, “Later,” as I left.

The day didn’t get much better from there. Traffic was a bitch on the way to my first delivery, and then on the second stop, I had to wait a fucking hour for some dude with a power complex to turn up and forklift the damn order. I was close to losing it. Instead, I called Adrian to let him know I was delayed and why. He said he’d take care of it, then asked me if everything was okay.