"Thank you," Klein said as Miller lowered his shirt. The rash was getting worse. He had blisters all down his back.

"Don't mention it," Miller said. "How's your breathing?"

"It's okay."

"Alright. You call me if you don't feel good."

"I will."

Miller nodded, then went to the van and sat still for a minute, looking at the time. He reached in his pocket for his phone, then thought that maybe, just maybe, if he didn't call to confirm, Fowler might forget, or not call either and then Miller might be off the hook. In either case, he wanted to get this errand done, so he turned the key and drove. His phone buzzed while was on his way, but it wouldn't have been safe to answer while he was driving. He wasn't making that up.

"Here it is," Fox said. He set the brace on the counter.

Miller drummed his fingers on the glass while inspecting the brace.

"She's fancy," he said.

"I wouldn't have called you for something cheesy."

Fox's pawn shop was the only one in town Miller would visit. He was on the verge of just handing over the money. It was Fox who urged him to try it on. It took a minute, but together they figured out all the straps and adjustments.

"Not bad," Miller said after pacing around the store a few times in both directions.

"She's yours for fifty," Fox said.

"Nah. Here, like we agreed on the phone." Miller put a hundred dollar bill on the counter. "Unless something's wrong with it."

"Nothing wrong with it. I know the guy who pawned it. He only wore it once or twice a month."

"Then why the discount?"

"Miller, you're hurting me. You don't like the price, you can go buy a compression wrap for top dollar at Ed's."

Miller faked a smile. There was a time when he would pull out all the stops to talk a guy like Fox down as much as he could. "Alright. Fifty."

Fox broke the bill and led Miller to the other end of the counter. "If you really wanna get rid of that other fifty, give this a strum."

She was gorgeous. An epiphone acoustic in great shape.

"I got bad news," Miller said.

"What, you got carpal tunnel?"

He didn't know what was specifically wrong with his wrist, so he just nodded.

"I'll keep an eye out for a wrist wrap, if you want."

Miller nodded. "I think I just sprained it."

"Lugging Klein's skinny ass around?"

"He weighs more than you'd think."

"Yeah, with all that gas station food he eats."

"I've pretty much broken him from that."

Fox was quiet for a moment, then tilted his head so he could look up at Miller over his glasses. "You getting any money from that scamp sister of his?"

Miller shook his head. "And before you say anything, I tried. She's worthless. Only cares about herself."

"I'm gonna get you a lawyer. Now hear me out. I know a gal who used to specialize in these sorts of things. She fries bigger fish these days, but every now and then she takes a case like Klein's on the side. Always pro bono."

Miller agreed, if for no other reason than to get Fox off his back. They then shot the breeze for a bit before Miller left. He didn't notice whether or not his knee felt any better, which meant it probably did. A thought struck him, one that if it worked would make him happier than he'd been in a long time. He turned around and parked outside Ed's Sporting Goods, bought a compression wrap for his wrist with the fifty bucks Fox had saved him then walked around the store, enjoying the ability to move without pain. He was excited when he got back and found that Rosa was home.

He told Klein about Fox's lawyer, which seemed to upset him.

"She's the only family I have," he said.

"Yeah, but..."

"No," Klein insisted. "Family doesn't sue. Family works things out. Or they don't."

"Okay, man. I'm just passing on a message." He then went next door.

"Of course you can!" she said. "I'm so excited. Let me get his leash. Do be careful, though."

"Oh I will. I'll just take him around the back side of the block a couple laps."

"Okay." She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck.

Santiago jumped and skipped, constantly wheeling around and getting tangled in his leash.

"Sit still you big galoot." Miller stopped, got the dog to heel, then bent down and unraveled his leash. "Man, why didn't I buy this crap sooner?"

He eventually got Santiago to relax, and he felt so good he took him a little further into the blocks of houses, and found a quiet little trail where he used to take Santiago on days when he was too tired for a long walk. There was a small stream with a solitary bench. Miller used to sit there while Santiago splashed around in the stream.

"Go on," he said after he unclasped the leash.

Santiago held still for a moment, then went crazy for about ten seconds before calming down. He trotted up and down the stream, staying close, and sniffed furiously at the bushes lining the far end of the bank. There was an abandoned lot on the other side that used to be a tire shop. Miller remembered buying tires there.

"These are expensive," she said.

"Yeah, she always complained about money," Miller said out loud to Santiago.

"Can't we get cheaper ones? How are we gonna afford dance lessons for the girls?"

"Yeah," Miller said to the dog, "that's what she was worried about."

Santiago paused and looked, then bounded over to Miller, mounting the bench and pinning him between his front paws. Miller buried his face in the big dog's furry chest to avoid being drenched, then laughed and got him in a headlock. He felt a slight twinge in his wrist.

"Okay, buddy. Go play."

Santiago went back to his romping.

"She went dancing, alright."

He took out his phone. There were no missed calls. He dialed Fowler's number.

"Hey, man. I'm real sorry I didn't call sooner. I was getting fitted for a knee brace. No, we're still on. I wouldn't miss it. Oh that's Santiago. He's the neighbor lady's dog. Yeah he's a big boy. Bernard. No, pure blood. Well, supposedly he's a dry mouth, but I think that's a creature of myth. Okay, bud. Yeah. I'll see ya then."

He checked in on Klein after dropping off Santiago. He made him a sandwich out of the last of the fixings Rosa bought them, sugared up some iced tea, popped in a movie, put some more cream on his back, refilled the humidifier, rested his knee for a minute, then met Jimmy Fowler at O'Riada's.

"Miller!" O'Riada shouted from behind the bar, diluted Irish accent in full swing. "As I live and breath!". He came around and hugged Miller.

"I'm surprised that's still happening," Miller said.

"You bloody Scott!" O'Riada playfully punched him. "You know you missed my eighty-third birthday, since we're on the topic of my age."

"Sheesh, Paddy, that was ten years ago. Aren't you ever gonna let that go?"

O'Riada laughed heartily, then led him to the corner by the dart wall.

"Jimmy Fowler's waitin'. We got a good band playin' in about an hour."

"Oh yeah? What are they called?"

"The Huns."

"Wow. That's ballsy!"

"Don't I know it! It's good to see you, Miller."

"Yeah. Good to see you too, Paddy."

It was both better and worse to see Fowler. Everything came flooding back. Everything.

"You rat bastard!" Miller said when he saw his friend.

"Man," Fowler said, "it has been a long time." He jumped off the bench to hug Miller, then they sat down.

"Yeah. it sure has. Well damn it, man. Don't just sit there ogling me. Tell me what's up! How's life? You and Maddy ever work things out?"

"Ha! Bring the big guns out early, why don't ya?"

"Well it was the last thing I remember us talking about. I wanna know."

"Let's toast before we talk about that."

He flagged down the waitress, and without even asking ordered two beers.

What the hell. Miller thought. They made a toast to the water under the bridge, drank deep, and Jimmy Fowler let it all out.

"Yeah, we worked it out. For a while. Two years. Three. I don't know. Maybe ten. It felt like forever. It was great at first. But then she started complaining about everything. And I mean everything. Like how Bridget did. Jesus, Miller, how did you cope? Anyways, I didn't cope. I gave it right back to her. So we went on like that for a while and, well, I came home early one day. You can figure out the rest."

"I'm sorry Jimmy."

"Yeah. Well, I moved on. As you can see."

Miller hadn't noticed the ring till then.

"So who's the new gal?"

"Oh, she's not new. You remember Batty Betty?"

Miller slammed the table and doubled over laughing. "Oh hell, I sure do. You don't mean... Fowler... you didn't."

Fowler nodded with a mouthful of beer threatening to burst out.

"Fowler, under no circumstances... we made a pact!"

Fowler waved his ring finger while he swallowed. "I broke it."

All Miller could do was laugh.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball. Hey, she's loyal."

"I bet. Like a tic."

"Hey, alright. You can clown. But you know what, man, she's got a heart of gold. And she's smart. We all knew she was smart."

"Well she had to be smart to think of the weirdest damn things a girl could possibly say. What was that line she used whenever she came in late?"

"'Sorry guys, I saw something new in my stool. Had to make sure.'"

"Tell me that was just a line."

"It was. It was. Aw, Miller, you know she had a bigger crush on you than anybody."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"It's true." Fowler ordered another round.

"Hey, Fowler. My health... I gotta take it slow."

"Oh, sure. Sure. Thanks for speaking up. So tell me your news, Miller. You ever replace Bridget?"

"Ha. Kinda. But it's not what you think."

"Ok? Now I'm curious. You uh, doin' more than walkin' the neighbor lady's dog?"

Miller took another sip, then a good long pull. "Nah. Rosa's a doll, but nah. I met this disabled fella a few years back. I was in a bad way. Drinkin' a lot. Anyway, I'd sit at this bench at Freeman Park...". He took another long pull. "Ah, what the hell. Get us a pitcher."

"You sure?".

"Yeah."

Fowler ordered them a pitcher. He had a way about him, Miller remembered. Somehow, no matter how crowded a place would be, Fowler could flag down a server and get his order in seconds.

"Still got the voodoo, I see," Miller said.

"I lost it for a while. Till I married Betty."

Miller chuckled, then emptied and refilled his glass.

"So, I was in a bad way. Spent a lot of time at Freeman Park. Thinkin'. I kept seeing this disabled guy on a motorized wheelchair. Junky old thing. He's real messed up, too. His legs are too small, he's got no feeling below the waist, one arm is small and shriveled."

"And he was at Freeman all by himself?"

Miller took a swig. "Yeah. He came up to me one day and started talking. I don't even remember what about. Anyway, long story short, he got me talkin' back one day, and we became friends. Turns out he has no family except a sister who pocketed most of his disability money, so I took him on as a roommate. So, I'm kind of his unofficial caregiver."

Fowler must have been drinking for a while before Miller got there, because his eyes were all welled up when Miller finished his story. He wiped them dry with a napkin, then looked down at Miller's wrist.

"You too gimpy for a game of darts?"

"I'll never be too gimpy to whoop you."

They both laughed, and Miller did in fact whoop Fowler at darts.

"So how'd it go being the big boss?" Miller asked when they sat back down.

"Oh, it was okay."

"Was?"

"Yeah. New Hampshire's not my kind of town. Besides that, I got tired of herding cats. I went into car sales. Never looked back."

"Good for you. And what's Betty do?"

"She's a free woman, partner. Last year we looked at our finances, and I told her she could quit her job and pursue painting. She fought it, at first, and swore I'd always come home to a messy living room floor and a fresh cooked meal. And she kept her word. Not an evening goes by where I don't see her on her tarp with her easel, paint all over, and smell something high in cholesterol simmering on the stove."

"That makes me happy, bud. She sell anything yet."

Fowler held up two fingers. "The first was three months ago, for a hundred and fifty dollars. The second one was last week, for two G's."

Miller opened his eyes up wide. "Nice. Damn. That's great. You're gonna give her a big ole' hug from me when you get back, aren't ya?"

"Of course. But just a hug! You had your chance, buddy."

They laughed and made another toast.

"To the good ole' days," Fowler said.

Miller nodded.

"So how are the girls? Jesus, they must be what, in their twenties? They got boyfriends yet? Eh? I always thought Sadie would get married for sure. Allison, though, she must be a pro by now. Dancin' on one of them MTV videos. Come on, you gonna sit there and let me guess till I get it?"

Miller looked into the half empty pitcher. "The girls are gone, Jimmy."

"Gone? Whaddaya mean? Did Bridget get custody?"

"Drunk driver."

"Shit! Oh, no. No. Joey... I'm..."

Fowler's eyes welled up again. Joey Miller looked into the half empty pitcher.

It took Fowler a minute to compose himself.

"They were like nieces to me. Man. When did it happen?"

"When they turned fifteen and sixteen." Miller's voice was hoarse. He slid his glass away. "There was a big talent show. The whole neighborhood put it on. We took over half of Freeman Park. They got six of their friends together and danced to Black Cat by Janet Jackson. They stole the whole damn show. They didn't know it, but I managed to talk some talent scouts into coming. They all gave me their cards. Anyways, the girls wanted to spend the night at Tasha's house. They got clipped on the way there. Cops came to my place around midnight."

Fowler teared up again. Miller leaned back.

"I bought a gun. I never could work up the nerve, though. I'd go to Freeman Park thinking it would give me the push I needed. Then that rat bastard came up and got me talkin'. So how long are you in town for?"

Fowler stared in disbelief, then his jaw seemed to move on it's own before any words stammered out.

"Uhm, I, just flew in for a few days."

"Well, you wanna come meet Klein?"

"Klein? Oh, the cripple. I mean, your roommate. Sorry."

"You wanna meet him? He's my family nowadays."

"Well, then yeah. Definitely. Of course."

"Man," Miller said, "you lost a lot of weight. I thought the misses was feedin' you."

Fowler was always a little paunchy. Now he was rail thin. Somehow it made his black hair look darker.

"Uh, well, I uh, had a stint with H. I uh, I got pretty low too. After Maddy. And yeah, Betty cooks. I just don't eat much. Guess I'm not quite over everything."

"Life sure can be a bitch."

They made a toast, listened quietly to the band, then left to go meet Klein.