35
In his mother’s kitchen in South Carolina, Paul is on drying duty. His sister Sarah is washing and hands him wet and still slightly soapy, dishes. Mike, Paul’s brother-in-law, is upstairs putting the baby down for a nap. His mom sits at the kitchen table fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes. Eventually she’ll go outside onto the verandah to have what she’ll swear is just one but is always two.
In his pocket, Paul’s phone rings. The chime makes Paul jump, and he almost drops a dish trying to fish his phone out of his pocket. The call is unlikely to be important, but L.A. has long trained him never to ignore what could be an opportunity. Sometimes he’s not even wrong.
A glance at the caller ID surprises him. “Alex?” he says, fumbling the phone to his ear.
Alex, if it is indeed him and
