Every Waking Moment by Chris Fabry Read Free Book Online Page A

pay eventually,” Jonah said. He leaned against the table that held Devin’s printer, but it wobbled and he didn’t sit. “Mr. Garrity was a peach. Sad to see the old guy go. He’s been our best so far. Didn’t even have to ask that many questions   —I just turned on the camera and he took off.”
    “I wish you could have seen the reaction. Your music made it sing. It took you right there, you know? Just like I’d pictured. If that banker had been there, he would have written a check on the spot.”
    Jonah took a swig from the bottle and screwed the cap back on. “Sullivan dropped by.” He burped.
    Devin’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. “Did you let him in?”
    “I tried pretending I didn’t hear his knock, but it didn’t work.”
    “What did he say?”
    “He’s ready to change the locks by the end of the week.”
    “Great.”
    “How much are we behind?”
    “Two months. Three next week.”
    Jonah stared at the stack of bills on the desk. “What about the electricity? If they cut that   —”
    “I’m current with Tucson Electric. Well, maybe a month behind. I know we have to have juice in order to power the machines and the air-conditioning. We’ll be okay.”
    Jonah turned toward the window overlooking concrete and asphalt and the finely manicured desert that had gone to seed. Some kind of thistle had sprung up in the wash and taken over. Tall and green and resistant to Roundup. “Even the eternal optimist has to come back to reality when they’re changing the locks, don’t you think?”
    “You can’t change the locks on a person’s outlook on life,” Devin said.
    “Where’d you read that?”
    “I made it up.”
    “Nice.”
    “You know what I’m looking forward to?”
    “What’s that?”
    “The day that banker comes in here and stands right where you’re standing. I can see it. He’s going to stand right there and beg us to set up an account. No, he’ll be crawling. Hands and knees. Offering an interest-free loan. ‘Please let us give you money.’” Devin laughed, but it was more from worry than mirth.
    Jonah turned the crank on the window blinds and the room darkened. “I want to be here when that happens. But it doesn’t look like anybody’s beating the door down right now. Clients or lenders.”
    There was an uncomfortable silence of men in transition. Men confronted with themselves and each other.
    “I was thinking that . . . maybe it might be a good idea if . . .”
    “A good idea if what?”
    “If Sullivan locks the place up   —”
    “He’s not going to lock us out. I’m going to pay him.”
    “But if he does, we lose all of this. I can’t afford to be without my computer and camera. And you don’t want to lose the new desk and your DVDs.” Jonah pawed on the floor with a foot. “My mom was saying you could put your stuff at our place. Just until we figure things out.”
    “Jonah, what kind of image does that present? You and me working out of your mother’s house? Come on. We’ve been there before. Have a little faith. We’ll get through this.”
    “I’m trying to be responsible. The equipment’s all we have.”
    Devin scowled. “Fine. Give up. Move your stuff home to Mother if you’re scared. I don’t blame you.”
    “It’s just until we can get settled,” Jonah said.
    “No, it’s not. It’s giving up. If you take your camera and computer and stabilizer and tripods   —you take that out of here and it’s over. It’s like a couple moving in together and one person says they need space. ‘I just need my space. Give me space.’ The other person moves out and it’s over. Kaput. They never see each other again.”
    Jonah stared at the painfully thin carpet. “I’m not . . . What was her name?”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “If I don’t take the equipment, it’s over for both of us. He locks those doors and the property inside is his. I had a friend who worked over at a Chuy’s when they closed, and the guy