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quality. 
                  “This is Pax Westerbrook.  We met at the—”
                  A sound like a motorcycle idling escaped the back of my throat .  “I know who you are.”
    “You remember?”
    “It’s not like your name’s Dave.”
                  “Right.”
                  “Calling to make sure I’m well-and-truly fired?  I am.  I’m well-and-truly fired.”  I actually kicked the lamppost base with my toe. 
                  “Um, I was just—sorry, this feels stupid now—I wanted to see if you were okay.”
    “Why?”
    “I feel super shitty about what happened—I found my watch and Trevor admitted you didn’t actually, you know, solicit him.”
    “To Kurt?” I clutched the phone.  “He told the hotel?”
    “No, uh, actually, just me.  He can be an asshole when he’s been drinking, but he’s not a bad guy.”
                  I pulled a face at the empty street.  “Okay, well, thanks for calling to clarify that—”
                  “I want to make it up to you,” he said hastily down the line before I could disconnect. 
                  “Make it up to me?”
                  “Please.  I want to.  I’m in West Palm—I could come down.” Was this guy asking me out?  Seriously? 
                  “Well, I’m back home now, so. . .”
                  “Oh.  I just thought I could—”
                  “Why now?  Why not step in when my manager was reaming me out?”
                  “I didn’t know what to think.  Look, Trevor was out of line,” he conceded the one thing he seemed willing while completely not answering my question.
                  “Your friend accuses me of being a thief and a hooker, which you believed , and all you can say is that he was out of line?”
                  “What else do you want me to say?” He was suddenly defensive.  I couldn’t believe it. 
                  “Okay, look, dude, if you needed to clean your conscience, consider it gleaming.  I’m fine.  Never been better.  Your wonderful friend was just having his period and it’s all good.  So you take care now.”  I hung up. 
    I didn’t know why Pax Westerbrook was getting such a rise out of me—I just thought of his uselessly stunned expression as Kurt led me away by the elbow and it reminded me of the worst of the guys who Mom had paraded through the trailer like they were big men there to skin something for dinner and make it all alright.  But when Mom freaked out because the lights went off or Billy had a fever and reality slammed into the aluminum sides like a gator’s tail they just shoved their hands deep in their pockets and looked sheepish.
                  Sheepish.  That’s what he’d been.  I had no space for it. 
                  I headed back to the trailer.  Half-way there I spotted Mom’s Buick at the edge of the Walmart parking lot, and pulled over.   She was sitting in the front seat, tears making black gulleys from under her sunglasses. 
                  “Hey,” I called tentatively as I approached.
                  “Did Billy get off alright?” she asked, not looking at me or questioning what I was doing there.
                  “Yes.  You okay?”  I leaned down in her open window.
                  “Did he have his green shirt on—they were supposed to wear green today.”  She pulled a Wendy’s wrapper from her purse and blew her nose.
                  “He put on what you left out for him.”
                  “And there was enough baloney for his lunch?”  she asked as if I was the spouse who’d forgotten to buy more.
                  “I’ll pick some up today—now, I’m here,” I realized.  I had been trying to