Seven
Do I Worry
Amber
We could do that…
“Anything yet?” Peter asks me a month later, during what’s become our weekly call.
“No, not yet,” I answer, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. It’s freezing out on the roof this afternoon, even though it was in the fifties the last time Peter and I spoke. The temperature’s been bouncing around the last few winters in New York, and now it’s the kind of frigid that makes me wish I’d asked the Echo Dot about the weather before making this trip upstairs in nothing but a cardigan sweater that doesn’t even close at the front.
I can’t help but think of Fake Jake’s warning about business being good for his family’s disaster clean up business, as I tell Peter, “I’m working on it. Hopefully, I’ll have something for you soon.”
Our last couple of “
