Chapter Thirty-Seven
Damien knocked on Jay’s door. Jay opened it, toothbrush shoved in his mouth and toothpaste oozing down his chin.
‘Hey,’ he said, inadvertently spitting toothpaste onto Damien’s T-shirt.
He turned away, leaving Damien to invite himself in. Which he did, six-pack of beer in hand. Toothpaste was running down Jay’s neck; he disappeared into his en suite, spat a little too dramatically, washed his mouth.
When he returned, he said, ‘And to what do I owe this honor?’
As Damien ripped two bottles from the six-pack, he noticed a scrap of paper on Jay’s desk beside a row of empty beer bottles. There was an email address scribbled on the paper.
‘Denton put us on standby tonight,’ Damien said. ‘You got the call, right?’
Jay went hunting for his bottle opener. ‘You think Den
