“I dunno, Skeeve. I think I’d like to hear a little more about exactly what the problem is, if it’s all right with you.”
“C’mon, Aahz. Let’s just settle his accounts and split. If we hurry, we can be back at the office by lunch.”
While I had tried to be patient, even promised myself to be, his wheedling tones finally got to me.
“Look, Kid,” I said, using the phrase deliberately. “If you’re so all-fired eager to get back, then go! I’m going to give a shot at trying to solve the real problem here, if I can ever find out what it is, maybe even without just throwing money at it. Okay?”
It was a cheap shot, but Skeeve had been asking for it. For a minute I thought he was going to take me up on my suggestion and leave, but instead he sank onto a sofa and sulked. Terrific. I turned my back on him and switched my attention to Quigley.
It seemed funny after all these years to take the lead in what was essentially a “people” situation. Usually I handled the tactics . . . okay, and occasionally the money . . . and left the people-handling to Skeeve. It was his part of the partnership to keep my abrasive personality from alienating too many people, particularly our friends. With him off in a blue funk, however, the task fell to me, and I was badly out of practice. Heck, I’ll be honest, I was never in practice for this sort of thing. Ironically, I found myself trying to think of what Skeeve would say and do at a time like this.
“So, Quigley,” I said, trying to smile warmly, “what exactly seems to be the problem?”
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