Free Dry as Rain by Gina Holmes Page A

Larry uncrossed his arms, I was hit by just how much weight my friend had gained since his divorce. Though I saw him every day, he normally wore larger clothes that hid it a little better. The small white buttons of the dress shirt he sported today looked about to pop against his protruding gut. His ex-wife, Tina, might have been an unfaithful nag, but she did make sure his diet consisted of more than pork rinds and pop.
    â€œAt the risk of sounding like a girl, you want to talk about it?” Larry asked.
    I squinted at him. “At the risk of sounding like your boss, buy a shirt that actually fits you, and get back to work.”
    Glancing down his chin at himself, he flipped up his striped tie and gave it a quick sniff. He scraped off whatever he’d discovered like he was working on a scratch-off ticket. He let the tie fall back to his shirt. “How about lunch?
    The phone rang. Thankful for the escape, I picked up.
    Larry glared at me. “I asked you a question, brother.”
    Pressing a hand over the receiver, I mumbled, “Yeah, whatever.” I uncovered the phone. “Eric Yoshida.”
    Whoever it was hung up.
    I shrugged and set the phone back in its cradle. “Must have been something I said.”
    Larry looked at his watch and grinned. “Hey, whadaya know? It’s lunchtime now.”
    Looking up at the wall clock, I felt my whole body sigh at the thought of an hour-long interrogation over burgers and fries. Larry was so much easier going before he’d found God. One little altar call had turned Dr. Jekyll into Mr. holier-than-thou Hyde. He was a good guy, but some days the religious routine was just a little too much, even for other Christians.
    I searched for an excuse that would let me out of the lunch date, but exhaustion had dulled my mind.
    Feeling like a prisoner being led to my cell, I followed him to his Jeep and slid into the passenger seat. “You sure you don’t want me to drive?”
    Larry sucked his teeth. “You just can’t stand not to be the one in control, can you?”
    The unexpected jab caught me off guard. “What? I just asked if you wanted me to drive.”
    As soon as we turned off the lot onto Main, he adjusted the rearview mirror. “Chill, dude. You’ve got control issues. So what? We all have something. Look at me.” He waved a hand over his stomach. “I eat too much.”
    Heat crept up my neck. “I don’t have control issues.”
    â€œYeah, you do.”
    Where was this coming from all of a sudden? We had been friends for six years, best friends for five. I’d have thought it would have come up before now if he had a problem with me. “For example?”
    He flicked on his blinker and passed a wagon. “Never mind.”
    â€œYou can’t even give me one.”
    â€œI could give you a hundred. How about this being only the third time in a year that you didn’t insist on driving.”
    I made a face. “ That’s your example? I’m just a better driver.”
    â€œAnd you always have to pay.”
    â€œI make more money.”
    â€œYou rearranged the furniture on the second day you moved in with me.”
    For crying out loud. “Your stupid couch was blocking the front door. What if there was a fire?”
    Larry glanced at me sidelong. “And you always insist on picking the golf course we play at.”
    â€œPlease,” I said. “You picked the very first course we played together. Remember that? ’Cause I do.”
    Sudden recognition washed over his face as his skin mottled. “So tell me what’s going on.”
    Oh sure, now he wanted to change the subject. Typical. “That course catered to ninety-year-olds who’d never played a day in their life. Even the caddies used walkers. I was growing old just waiting for the hearse to drive them to the next hole.”
    Larry’s nostrils flared as he sped up, passing a Buick.