As we pulled out of the parking lot, I told Joe, “He’s great, Joe. I feel bad for him.”
“It was good to see him. Hey, you’re sure it’s okay?”
“Of course. You go see his dad and I’ll go to the spa.”
Joe nodded, said, “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Perfect,” I said. I was thinking of a massage, some kind of exotic wrap. Freak out the guys at work by getting a manicure. I could almost hear Brady saying, “What happened to you, Boxer?”
I grinned, but when I turned to share my joke with Joe, he was in deep thought.
He saw me out of the corner of his eye and said, “I can’t help but think about what his life might have been but for that bad turn in the road.” And then, “I think that a lot of guys who play pro ball have broken lives. Not just physically, but the fame and money and disappointments, all of that. I’m just glad he’s the Dave I know.”
I nodded my agreement.
He said, “And you, sweetie? How was your lunch?”
“It was fabulous, the best meal I’ve ever had, and you know why? Because you thought of it, Joe. You made this great plan in a split second. You called Dave and got it done. You spent a bundle on lunch.”
“What about the food? You didn’t mention the food.”
“Well, may I be honest? I’m sure that I’m crazy and I should have loved the farm lamb and that steak thing and the green-pea puree and the whatever, but you know what I liked the best?”
“Let me guess,” Joe said. “That little glazed donut at the end. Like a mini Krispy Kreme.”
“Come on. How’d you know?”
“One, you’re a cop. And two, you were making some very sexy noises.”
“Huh. Maybe I was thinking about you.”
“You were not.”
“And since I’m going to the spa, I should be very relaxed and dreamy and smelling like flowers when you get back.”
“Hold that thought,” said Joe.