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his eyes. “Company’s pushing me on expenses.”
    “Sorry, man. Too bad. I’m heading up to Molt for lunch. That
café up there. Have you been?” Martin shook his head. “Great place. Hey, how’d
it go with that Brixton chick? You talk to her?” Martin gave Jeffrey a sour
look. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”
    Martin watched his expense dollars drain away into his deep
and thirsty tank. If he called a couple of accounts and arranged to come in
over the weekend, he could probably swing lunch with Jeffrey. And Rick could
bite him. “What time are you going to lunch?” he asked.
     
    ~ * * * ~
     
    The waitress should have been pledging a sorority rather
than taking orders at a quaint café in an old general store with nothing but
high prairie for miles around. She set their meals down with a smile and spun
on the spot to take the order of a couple at the next table.
    “Looks good, no?” asked Jeffrey. He indicated the waitress’s
jeans and winked.
    “And here I planned to scarf down a Subway sandwich on the
road,” said Martin, keeping his eyes on his food.
    Martin was about halfway through his meal when Jeffrey
asked, “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”
    “Is it that obvious?” asked Martin.
    “You look like you’ve been carrying that truck around on
your back,” said Jeffrey.
    “I’m thinking of getting out. Company’s pushing for more and
more with less and less. I work seven days a week. I spend more than forty
hours a week in that truck.”
    “I thought you enjoyed it, especially with Lee Danvers there
all the time,” said Jeffrey.
    “I’m being serious,” said Martin. “I don’t know if I can
keep doing this, but I also don’t know what else I’d do. I’d love to get on
with a bigger company, something with a little more recognition than FastNCo.,
but the job market now scares me to death. And this whole thing with Cheryl up
in Brixton has gotten me thinking. I don’t even have time in my life for her.
All I have time to do is work. And for what? To pay for the crappy apartment I
never sleep in? To afford the two-week vacation I don’t take so I can make
bonus? To make the payment on the Subaru I never drive? What can I offer her
that’s anything like a normal relationship?”
    “You own a Subaru?” asked Jeffrey.
    “How do you do it?”
    “Who says I do?” said Jeffrey. “Maybe I’m just as
angst-ridden as you.”
    “You seem to have it all together,” said Martin.
    “It’s my naturally cool demeanor,” said Jeffrey. “Plus, I’m
a workaholic.”
    “Have you heard of any openings anywhere?”
    “What makes you think another company is going to be any
better?” Jeffrey asked. “I’m getting all kinds of pressure from the head office
now. The grass isn’t going to be greener anywhere else, just a different shade
of brown.”
    Martin sighed. “I gotta do something. One of these days I’m
going to hit a deer, or go sliding off in a snowstorm, and I’m going to die out
on these roads. And for what? So FastNCo. can meet analyst expectations for the
third quarter earnings reports?”
    “You’re not going to die,” said Jeffrey. “Stop being
depressing. I’m trying to enjoy my catfish.”
    “Sorry. I’m definitely going to start searching for a new
job.”
    “I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you,” said Jeffrey.
    Martin shifted in his seat. He couldn’t believe he’d poured
all that out in front of Jeffrey. How did it come to be that his best friend in
the world, his only confidante, was a smarmy candy salesman he met around the
state a couple of times a month? He didn’t know his neighbors. All his high
school and college friends were off having lives with wives and kids, at least
according to Facebook. I can’t even get a dog, he thought. I’d be hunted by the
ASPCA.
    “You still jogging?” Jeffrey asked.
    “Not really,” said Martin.
    “I suppose we make the time for the stuff we really want to
do.”
    “Is that meant to be