Read In Mike We Trust for Free Online Page B

perimeter when Mike stepped outside. The screen fell away as he pushed open the door. “Whoa!” he said, catching it with one hand.
    â€œSorry,” Garth called from across the yard. “It does that. The tape is old.”
    â€œIt needs one of those…what’s it called?”
    â€œA new door?”
    â€œHa—no, I mean one of those…things to fix it with. Rubber piping and a whatsit.” He pushed at the tape until the screen was back in place, then crossed the yard to where Garth was clipping. Hutch lay stretched out on the grass nearby. Mike reached down andpicked up a ratty tennis ball—one of Hutch’s toys—and waved it at the dog. He tossed it across the yard into the dead garden, and the spaniel got up, lumbered over, and retrieved it, but didn’t bring it back. “You’re working up a sweat, there.”
    â€œWe get a discount on the rent if I do this,” Garth explained, wiping a hand over his brow. “I mow the lawn, too.”
    â€œHere,” Mike said, “let me take over for a while.”
    â€œYou don’t have to do that. I’m almost done.”
    But Mike insisted, and took the clippers out of his hands. He clipped with a flair—one or two branches at a time. Even so, he seemed to move along at a pace that at least matched if not surpassed Garth’s. “Your mom tells me money’s been pretty tight lately.”
    â€œYeah. That’s why I took my job—so she wouldn’t have to shell out spending money for me. I’m trying to save a little of what I’m making, too. You know, for emergencies. Mom already works two jobs,” Garth said.
    â€œThere are ways outside the…traditional channels to make a buck.” He continued to work the clippers across the last hedge.
    Garth moved along with him, his hands in his pockets. “What, like rob a bank?”
    â€œNo!” Mike laughed. “I’m just talking about lesstraditional, more creative ways to generate income.” Finished, he stepped back and eyeballed the hedge with his thumb raised before his eyes, as if gazing at a painting in progress. “Rob a bank,” he repeated, chuckling. “That’s a good one. What do you say we rake this stuff up and make some lunch?”
    Hutch knew the word lunch . He let go of the tennis ball and started for the house.
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    There was bread in the cabinet. Bologna and American cheese and mayo in the fridge. Garth pulled all these out and laid them on the counter, then got down two plates.
    â€œHold that thought,” Mike said, washing his hands in the sink and eyeing the food. “Let’s explore.”
    Garth was pretty certain there was nothing to explore in their kitchen. But he let Mike go at it while he moved the clothes from the washer to the dryer.
    Mike went through each of the cabinets and plumbed the depths of the refrigerator. He found a box of pasta shells and set a pot of water on the stove. As the shells cooked, he stirred up the contents of two cans of tuna fish, some chopped olives, and a tomato. He discovered a block of Parmesan cheese and a cheese grater Garth didn’t even know they owned. Canned asparagus. Sweet pickles. It seemed to take no time atall to prepare, and yet there it was: a lunch that could have been served in a restaurant. “Let’s eat in the living room,” Mike suggested. “That dryer’s turned the kitchen into a sauna.”
    They set their plates on the coffee table and sat on the carpet on either side of it. Hutch positioned himself between them. When Mike set one of his pickles on the table in front of Hutch’s snout, the dog gobbled it up.
    Garth took a swig of soda. “What sort of graphic design do you know? Web pages?”
    â€œHow’d you know I did graphic design?”
    Oops. He’d learned that eavesdropping. He cleared his throat and said, “Mom told me. So is it mainly Web page