Nobody's Fool

at the nickname but expertly twisted a can free of its plastic ring.
    Sully took one too, opened the passenger side door and sat down, flexing his knee, flinching as he did so. “Your timing’s getting better,” he observed, taking a swig of beer. “We only finished up about thirty seconds ago.”
    â€œI know,” Peter said, setting the other three beers on the hood of the El Camino. “I drove by and you weren’t done yet, so I drove around the block.”
    Rub looked like he believed this.
    â€œBesides,” Peter said. “I already earned
my
money this morning.”
    â€œWhen?” Rub wanted to know. He remembered the morning clearly, and what he remembered was that he’d worked alone in the cold while Peter went off without permission and spent the morning in Miles Anderson’s house, where it was warm. All he’d done over there was talk, too. He hadn’t done any work at all.
    â€œYou’ll have to tell me all about it,” Sully said. “I take it we haven’t been fired?”
    â€œI assured him the house was getting our full attention. Not an easy point to demonstrate in your absence. I told him I’d see the job through to conclusion myself. He likes the idea of employing junior faculty.”
    Sully crushed his beer can, tossed it onto the floor of the truck. “You think we’ll be done by the middle of January?”
    Peter crushed his own, tossed it onto the floor of the El Camino. “I’ve pretty much made up my mind to stick around.”
    Sully nodded. “I’d heard a rumor you might. You told your mother yet?”
    â€œLast night.”
    â€œWhich is why she’s all upset today?”
    â€œAmong other reasons.”
    â€œShe get around to blaming me yet?”
    Peter was grinning now. “She got around to it right away.”
    â€œGood. Maybe that’ll give you some breathing room.” When Peter had no response, Sully decided to ask, “Is she all right?”
    â€œWho?” Peter frowned.
    â€œYour mother. The person we’re talking about.”
    Peter thought about it. “Well …” he said.
    â€œFine,” Sully told him. “Be that way.”
    â€œAll right,” Peter agreed, maddeningly.
    â€œI tell you what,” Sully said to Peter, grateful, in truth, not to know more than Peter wanted to tell him. “You help me run this load of hardwood out to Carl’s camp and I’ll introduce you to the prettiest girl in Bath.”
    Rub perked up, recognizing the allusion to Toby Roebuck. “Can I go?”
    â€œNo,” Sully said. “You’re married. It wouldn’t be good for you.”
    â€œHe’s married too,” Rub pointed out, indicating Peter.
    â€œNot happily though, like you,” Sully pointed out.
    Rub frowned. “I never said I was happy.”
    â€œI know,” Sully conceded. “It was Bootsie who told me you were. You better had be, was what she actually said.”
    â€œIf she looked like ole Toby, I’d be happy,” he said.
    â€œWell,” Sully said. “Go on home before Bootsie notices you aren’t there and blames me. I’ve got too many women mad at me already.”
    Rub balked at being dismissed in this fashion. The last thing he wanted to do was go home to Bootsie, especially when seeing her meant missing Carl’s wife. Even more important, three Genesee’s were still sitting on the hood of the El Camino. Rub had been doing the math in his head, and according to his calculations, one of the three remaining cans of beer would find its way into his hand if he could just keep from being sent away until either Peter or Sully reached for a second beer. It’d been a good afternoon with Sully, just the two of them again, like old times, before he had to start sharing his best friend. And now here he was, already having to share all over again. The unfairness of it was just about bearable if he didn’t get cheated out of the can of beer too. “Could I have one more of those?” he said.
    â€œWhat’re you asking me for?” Sully said.
    Because Rub didn’t want to ask Peter, was the answer, of course, though he saw Peter pull a can from the plastic ring. “You’re the one that’s the boss, not him,” Rub said, his purpose, as always, a simple indication of loyalty to Sully, which he would have liked, just once, to be