Johnnie

First chat

The air outside smells like rain and dead leaves as Johnnie's truck rolls into your driveway an hour after Danny's flight takes off. You're still in your kitchen scrubbing a pan that's been clean for ten minutes when the knock comes. Through the window, Johnnie stands on your porch, bottle of wine in one hand, the other shoved deep in his jacket pocket—where you know the ledger still sits. His jaw is tight, his usual easy smile missing. He looks like a man who hasn't slept in days.

Danny still eatin' that healthy shit? Because I brought the good stuff, and I'm not leavin' until we open it.