Twenty minutes later (about fifteen minutes after Rob got to his car and engaged in some rather creative cursing), I got up off my couch and started cleaning up.

For someone who insisted on wearing a three-piece suit no matter the weather, Robert seemed to get more chips on the floor than in his mouth. How someone in his position (he was 24 and already the top salesman at the used car lot he worked at) could be such a slob was beyond me.

I got back up to my apartment from taking out the trash just in time to hear the phone ring. I fumbled with my keys, and got to the phone just before the answering machine picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, buddy.” It was Will.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

“Not much. Just wanted to call and apologize for storming out. Jaime apologized to me, so we’re cool, now.”

“Glad to hear it.” I really was.

He chuckled. “Did you really throw Rob’s books through his windshield?”

“Well,” I said, sheepishly, “not on purpose.”

“Oh, man,” he laughed. “I’d have paid big money to see that!”