Chapter 4: Four

"Why don't you trust me ever?" Klein asked. 

"What are you on about?" Miller asked. 

"You never give me credit." 

Miller sighed. "Klein, I don't have time for games. Just tell me what's bothering you." 

Klein sighed. "Never mind." 

Miller shook his head and went into the shower. Maybe it was the water turning cold halfway through, maybe it was the message on his cell phone, but whatever it was, it got Miller so frustrated that he circled back around to feeling okay. He got dressed, then made Klein some sugary iced tea and sat down on the couch. 

"It's not that I don't give you credit," Miller said. "I just gotta make my own decisions." 

"You used to talk about the old days. You used to talk about your crew and how you could have been their foreman. Why did you stop? I liked hearing those stories." 

"Well, I guess I done told them all." 

"That's not the point. You sounded happy reminiscing. You have a chance to reminisce now with someone who was there." 

"Like I said, buddy, I gotta make my own decisions. Now I don't bother you too much when you don't answer your sister's calls." 

"But my sister is a terrible person. Fowler was your favorite coworker. You guys were friends. He's probably really upset that you haven't called him back." 

Miller laughed. "The Jimmy Fowler I know probably forgot that he even called me by now." 

Klein gave Miller that look he gave when he knew Miller was lying. Miller leaned forward on the couch and handed Klein his tea. His head then sunk between his shoulders. 

"He called again this morning." 

"Well," Klein said, after pretending to think for a minute, "you gotta make your own decisions." 

"That's right, and today's Wednesday, making it my decision where we eat." 

"Red Panda?" 

"Nope," Miller said. He leaned forward and tried to find the coupons on the coffee table, but the clutter was just too much for him. 

"I gotta clean this table off," Miller grumbled. 

"Wait," Klein said. He had something under his laptop. "Are you looking for this?" 

Miller smiled when he saw Klein holding the flyer. "Yeah. What're you doin' with it?" 

"I was gonna save it for my next turn. The coupons are good until Octobre." 

"Well, we're going today." 

Klein nodded. "Okay." 

De Nada's was just a bit too far to walk for Miller's knee, so he helped Klein and then his chair into the van. Klein had called Ms. Coolidge on the way to the van to ask her to make sure Miller's spot was empty when they got back. She promised to call the Wilsons, but Miller was prepped for disappointment. Klein was in good spirits, though, probably from the prospect of getting jalapeno poppers. 

"This is a restaurant?" Miller said when they pulled into the parking lot. 

The place was huge, more like a mall, with dining areas on different floors and loads of outdoor seating. The people milling in and out were mostly families with young kids. They managed to get in without too much trouble, and had fun looking around while their table was bussed. 

"Look at all these things I can't do," Miller said, referring to the bowling alleys, dance floor and video game arcade. 

"We could play some video games," Klein said. "Just say so if you're knee starts buggin'." 

"Oh, I will." 

"Miller," the hostess said. 

Miller felt hot pain lance up his leg just from leaning forward, so he braced himself with Klein's chair. The hostess was young and impossibly cute. Miller smiled and gave her a little bow, calling her 'ma'am' in the process. The old smokescreen, he thought. There was a time when seeing pretty women didn't make him sad. Back then he didn't have any smokescreens, just a heartfelt appreciation of beauty. 

She was polite, but Miller got the impression that she didn't care to be called ma'am. 

"Gross!" shouted a little boy. Miller didn't see him, but her heard his mom trying to hush him. 

"Why does he look like that?!" Another word tried to come out, but the mom must have got her hand over his mouth. Miller really hoped Klein didn't hear it. He played tough, but you could tell stuff like that got to him. It wasn't right. 

When the hostess seated them, Miller couldn't help but feel awfully out of place. Also, he hoped Klein didn't feel childish, like he was in the same place for Miller as all the children were in for their parents. 

The hostess handed them their menus. There was something about her bearing that gave Miller the impression her guard was up, so when she said their waitress would be with them soon, all Miller did was nod. 

Klein was leaning over his chair like he did when he only wanted Miller to hear him. Miller leaned in and inclined an ear. 

"That's the one thing I can't get used to," Klein said. 

"Whaddaya mean?" Miller asked. 

Klein nodded toward the hostess. "I'll never know what it's like." 

Miller nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it's only good when it's good." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

Miller leaned back and shook his head. "I'll explain later." 

Klein shrugged and looked at the menu, turning the pages with his nubby hand. Miller found what he wanted pretty quick, so he scanned the scene while Klein kept looking. It wasn't long before he spotted the boy who'd been hollering about Klein. He was up on his knees starring right at them. Miller gave him a scowl and he sat down. He was a cute little fella. Skinny little twerp with lots of blond hair and eyes so blue Miller could tell their color from two tables away. 

"Hey," he said to Klein. Klein looked up. 

"What's up?" 

"Well, I see a lot of something I'll never know about. I never had a son." 

Klein nodded, then looked back down at his menu. Miller wished he would have said something, but before he had time to think about it, the waitress came. She wasn't near as cute as the hostess, but she had a smile like the Grand Canyon and big, dorky glasses. Miller felt much more at ease around her. 

"Hi guys, I'm Cassie, I'll be your server. Can I get you started with some drinks?" 

"I'll have an iced tea," Klein said. 

"I'll have a diet cola," Miller said, "whatever type you carry. And can we get a side of poppers? Biggest you got." 

"Of course. Anything else?" 

"I have a question," Miller said, regretting it instantly. 

"What's that?" 

Why do I do this? "Your name, Cassie, that short for anything? Like, Cassandra, or Cassidy?" 

But instead of putting up her guard or rolling her eyes, she somehow managed to smile even wider. "Are you ready for this? It's Cassiopeia." 

"That's super cool!" Klein said, looking up from his menu. 

"Aw, thank you!" Cassie touched Klein's arm. 

"Are your parents astronomers?" Miller asked, still nervous for some reason. 

"Amateur, but yes. Especially my dad. My name was his idea. He always takes things a step further. Like, when the new Star Trek came out, he wanted to remodel the living room to look like the bridge of the new Enterprise." 

Klein downright guffawed. Cassie joined, and all three shared a happy laugh. 

"Well," Miller said, "your folks sound like good people." 

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"Thanks! I'll tell them you said that. I'll be right back with your drinks." 

"Yep," Klein said, "I'll never know." 

"She's a sweet kid," Miller said. 

"You know somethin?" 

"What?" 

"I know you don't look at the Chen girls that way. I just like razzin' you." 

Miller gave Klein a playful glare and shook his head. 

"Hey, someone's gotta give you grief." 

"Believe me, buddy, plenty of people do." 

"Yeah, well, it's different when someone who likes you does it." 

Miller smiled. 

It was a bit of a wait for the drinks and poppers, and Cassiopeia apologized profusely. 

"It's alright," Miller said, "we don't got nowhere to be, and you're busy." 

"Thanks. You guys are the best! Okay, what can I get you?" 

"He looks gross!" the little blond boy shouted. "See!" He had another couple of kids with him and was pointing, not far off. "Ew!" shouted a little girl. 

Cassie was beside herself. She went to the kids and asked them very insistently where their parents were. The mother came and got the kids, putting her hand on her son's mouth. 

"I am so sorry," she put a hand on Klein's nubby arm. "You know, my dad has scoliosis, and he had to put up with that kind of crap his whole life. So please don't let it get to you." 

Klein smiled so big. "I'm used to it." 

"Well, you shouldn't have to be. I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do." 

"Yep," Miller said, "your folks must be good people alright, to raise a girl like you." 

Cassiopeia teared right up, and Miller felt ashamed. 

"Thank you." She took a napkin off the table and wiped under her glasses. 

Miller was going to lighten things up with a really dumb joke, but there was a stir and he saw the blond boy getting dragged outside by his mother. The whole way he was hollering about Klein's condition. 

Cassiopeia looked like she was about to tear up again, but Klein calmed her down. "I feel sorry for that boy," Klein said. 

"You guys really are the best. Okay, what will you have?" 

They ordered, then dug into the poppers once Cassiopeia left. They were bland and had already gone cold. Miller was about to apologize to Klein, but he must have seen it coming, because he was already shaking his head. 

"I got to meet Cassie. That made my whole month." 

Miller smiled. "She's a sweet kid." 

The rest of the food was hotter, and Cassie had her smile back. She and Klein exchanged some Trekkie talk, and Miller would have joined in but his phone was buzzing in his pocket. He took it out and flipped it open. It was Fowler. 

Klein guessed who had called. 

"He won't stop," Klein said. 

"He will, eventually." 

"Yeah, I suppose. And how do you think that will make him feel?" 

Miller put down his fork. His appetite was completely gone. They were both quiet for a while afterwards, until Cassie came and boxed up Miller's food. Then they went to the arcade and Klein watched Miller play 1942 until his knee bothered him too much to stand in one place. As it was, he still made the highest score. Klein gave it a try, leaning half out of his chair so he could reach the buttons with his stumpy arm. 

"That's really cool that you can still play," said a Korean girl. She looked about ten years old. 

"Has your arm always been that way," asked her brother, "or did you get hurt?" 

Much better. Miller thought. 

"I was born like this," Klein said. It never bothered him when children asked. "They're curios," he would say, "and need to learn about people who are different. It's the one purpose I can serve." 

He used that line as they were leaving. Miller reminded him that he didn't allow that kind of talk. 

"I can't help what you think," he told him, "but I can't let you talk like that." 

"It's easy for you to feel that way," Klein said. "You're good at things." 

Miller laughed. "Yeah, at one video game." 

"It's something." 

Miller rolled his eyes while the ramp lifted Klein into the van. 

"You're good at things," Miller said once they were on the road. 

"Like what?" 

"You're good at your job. And, you're good at reading people, and figuring things out. And that's why you're good at your job. And, being good at your job is a rare thing these days." 

Klein nodded. "I am good at my job. You know who else is good at their job?" 

"Who's that?" 

"Cassiopeia." 

"You can say that again." 

"You know something, I've been trying to get good at writing too. I've been writing a story on my laptop. I don't know if it's any good." 

"What's it about?" 

"Well, the characters are pretty much us, but they're detectives." 

"Huh, sounds like a hoot. I'm guessin' I just cart you around while you solve all the cases?" 

"Well, that's how it would be if I was going for realism." 

They both laughed. 

When they got back, their spot was empty, and Ms. Burgos brought them a pan of fresh taquitos for dinner. She stayed for a few hours, picking up all the things Santiago knocked over with his tail, and they watched Star Trek while Klein told Rosa about the little brat and the wonderful waitress who stuck up for them. 

"My papi would have beat my brother black and blue for saying such a thing!" Rosa exclaimed. 

Miller and Klein were both tuckered out by the time she went home. Miller walked her back and got a sloppy wet kiss from Santiago. It was warmer than previous nights, but there was still a bit of crispness in the air. Winter wasn't far off though, and all the aches the cold weather brought. Klein loved the snow, though, so Miller looked forward to it. He went back and the two of them brushed their teeth in turns. Miller had converted the couch and was about to lay down when an uncomfortable thought struck him. He was reading an autobiography about a concert cellist, and seemed to lose track every four or five words. 

"Damn it," he said out loud. He sat up, found his cell phone on the coffee table, and called Fowler. 

"Jimmy!" he said. "How ya doin' buddy? I know, it's been ages. Oh, I'm sorry about that. Yeah, I've been tied up, all right. But in a good way. Nah, I'm not workin'. Yep. I shoulda seen a doctor. Oh well. We live and learn, right? Yeah man, it's good to hear your voice too. Sure, Jimmy. I'd love that. Tomorrow should work, actually. Okay, buddy. I'll call you around six and confirm. Yeah, you too." 

He tossed and turned till about three before falling asleep. 

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