“I want to help him,” is the only thing I can manage to come up with.
They both exchange glances, trying to figure out if the other one knows what the hell I’m talking about.
“Jimmy?” Mark asks.
I nod. “I want to—” I look at Mark. I look at Devin. “—keep him.”
Mark semi-explodes. He probably would completely explode if his guts weren’t bothering him, which I know they are because he’s got his right hand clasped on his shirt just under his chest. “What the f**k are you talking about? You want to help him, you want to keep him—he’s not a f*****g puppy, Eric! He’s an employee. Jesus f*****g Christ…you…you f*****g slept with him, didn’t you? Is that where you two were yesterday?” He throws out his arm, grasping at the air as if he’s imagining it to be my neck. “You don’t even have to answe
