This caught Neal by surprise.
The old man’s pale blue eyes remained fixed on Neal’s face, waiting for an answer.
“No,” Neal said.
“Well, I have to tell you, bein’ an ex-athlete and all, that really surprises me. They almost always give pain killers for sprains, especially one that’s swole up like that.”
“Well, they didn’t give me any.”
“Uh-huh.” Snell brought one thick finger to his lips, looking Neal up and down. “Would you mind emptying your pockets on the table?”
Neal was so stunned he could not speak for a few seconds. “You bet I’d mind.” He let out a nervous laugh. “What is this, a concentration camp?”
Snell chuckled. “Wish it was sometimes, son.” The smile vanished. “You gonna empty your pockets or not?”
The pain killers were in Neal’s right-hand pocket. Now, the little prescription bottle felt the size of a pickle-barrel. He wondered if Snell could see it bulging through his jeans.
Neal said, “You don’t have the right to search me.”
“No. But I have the right to fire your smart ass.”
“Go ahead,” Neal said indignantly. He struggled his way out of the chair and onto his feet.
“Now, don’t get all worked up over this,” Snell said.
Neal had already taken a step towards the door, his hand on the doorjamb for support. He paused and looked back at Snell.
“Don’t pay me no mind,” the old man said, with another chuckle. “I get a little carried away sometimes. Just go on home and take care of that leg. Get some rest, and if you feel up to it, come on back to work in the morning.”
Neal nodded, but he had no intention of working another second for Snell. He was sure the only reason the old man had backed off was because he didn’t have a replacement delivery boy lined up. But that wouldn’t take long—there were plenty of people in Atlanta desperate enough to put up with Snell’s bullshit.
Neal walked out the door, managing to take the first few steps without limping.
And he didn’t look back.
* * *
Annie had everything packed up and loaded into her car by a quarter to five. It had taken her a lot longer than she had anticipated—she kept thinking of “one more thing” Natasha might need, and she ended up taking almost all the baby provisions that were in the apartment. The only item that was in short supply was disposable diapers. There was just one left, but she had just changed Natasha, so she could make it to Chattanooga and then buy some more there. She didn’t want to spend any more time in Atlanta than necessary.
When she was finally satisfied she had everything she needed, she went back inside the apartment to get Natasha and to leave Neal a note. The baby was already strapped into her car seat, ready and waiting on the couch, wearing the orange jumper that Annie’s mother had made for her. Annie had put it on Natasha that morning, knowing that she would be going home. It was too bad her mother wasn’t going to be there and see Natasha in it—it
Annie searched around the kitchen for something to write on. She finally decided to use a napkin. Just after she scribbled Neal’s name across the top, she heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, the pen poised above the paper. She watched the door as the footsteps came closer. “Please don’t be Neal.
The footsteps stopped in front of the door. Annie waited breathlessly for the jingling sound of Neal’s keys.
Instead, there was a loud knock.
