Where Nerves End

and must have seen my “what the fuck?” expression, because he said, “Simply put? The suction helps with circulation, stimulating lymph nodes, getting rid of toxins. That kind of thing.”
“Which helps with asthma?”
He gestured at Dylan, then put his hand to his ear and raised his eyebrows. It was then I realized the boys coughing had quieted.
“Ill take that as a yes,” I said.
Michael smiled, ruffling his sons hair. “Hes been doing pretty well lately, but the move probably aggravated his asthma. Stress and all of that.” To Dylan, he said, “Feeling better?”
The kid didnt look up from his game. “Yep.” He paused to clear his throat. “Thanks, Dad.”
Michael let the cups sit on Dylans back for another few minutes, and then he carefully removed them. Four reddish rings remained on Dylans skin, but he didnt seem uncomfortable and Michael wasnt concerned.
Dylan picked up his shirt off the couch and trotted up the stairs with his video game. He didnt cough once.
“Guess it does work,” I said.
“Youd better believe it does.” Michael stood, and as he carried the cups into the kitchen, he added, “Hes done a lot better since we moved to Colorado anyway.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah.” Michael set the cups on the counter, then pulled a tea mug out of a box. “The pollution and shit in Los Angeles was horrible on his lungs.”
I wrinkled my nose, nodding toward the teakettle, which was starting to emit some vaguely bitter odors. “And that god-awful smell doesnt bother him?”
“Hes not fond of the taste, but no, the smell doesnt bother him.”
“You make him drink that shit?”
“Mixed with enough honey and stuff he cant really taste the worst of it,” he said. “I actually like it, but…”
I shuddered, the bitter, pungent smell putting me off the idea of even asking him if I could try it one of these days.
“Anyway,” he said, “the pollution wasnt doing Dylan any good, so my ex-wife and I decided to move somewhere cleaner. And cheaper, for that matter.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Cheaper?”
“Compared to LA, hell yeah. But its a little less manageable with one income than two.”
“I know the feeling.” I glanced at my watch. “Damn it, its already six oclock? I guess Id better get to work.”
Michael smirked. “You dont mind leaving us here unsupervised?”
I chuckled. “Might as well get used to it, right?”
“Good point.”
“By the way, the clubs open late tonight and tomorrow,” I said. “Ill be getting in around three-thirty, four in the morning. So if you hear someone coming in during the night, its probably just me.”
“Fine by me.” He poured his tea through a strainer, then set the kettle aside and looked at me. “I sleep like the dead, so you wont wake me up.”
“Must be nice.”
“Shoulder?”
I nodded.
“Dont worry.” He winked. “Let me keep working on it, and well get it to the point it doesnt keep you awake at night.”
“Im holding you to that, just so you know.”
“I would expect no less.” He paused to put his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin. “That is, after all, what I get paid to do.”
“Good thing you moved in, then,” I said. “Means I might be able to keep paying you to do it.”
“Excellent.” He smiled. “Well, maybe now, with this whole arrangement, things will get easier for both of us.”
I returned the smile. “Yeah. Maybe they will.”

CHAPTER 7
    Michael hadnt lived with me quite long enough to make a dent in my cash flow problems yet, so almost two weeks into this arrangement, the clubs books were just as depressing as ever. Rising prices. Floundering income. And of course everyone from the bouncers to the bartenders wanted raises, since the areas swelling cost of living affected them too.
    Closing my eyes, I leaned back and rubbed my neck with both hands. The earliest twinges crept up the left side of my back, slithering over my shoulder like kudzu and leaving knotted muscles in their wake.
    I had to get out of here, or Id stress myself into excruciating pain. Fortunately, it was a Tuesday night, so I was the only person here anyway. The club was closed Monday thru Wednesday, and I usually came in at least two of those days to take care of administrative bullshit.
    Fuck it. Id deal with this tomorrow.
I left the binder open on my desk and pushed my chair back. Closing up the bar on nights like this was a breeze: no food to put away, nothing to clean. Just a few lights to turn off, a quick check to make