She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Oh, all right. Old man.” She reached up and gently tweaked my nipple, and I gave a satisfying little jump. I think the age difference bothered her, too, though she teased me for letting it get to me.
“I think I’ll be able to manage a totter through the Haunted Mansion, if you just give me a moment to rest my bursitis.” I felt her smile against my shirt. She loved the Mansion; loved to turn on the ballroom ghosts and dance their waltz with them on the dusty floor, loved to try and stare down the marble busts in the library that followed your gaze as you passed.
I liked it too, but I really liked just sitting there with her, watching the water and the trees. I was just getting ready to go when I heard a soft ping inside my cochlea. “Damn,” I said. “I’ve got a call.”
“Tell them you’re busy,” she said.
“I will,” I said, and answered the call subvocally. “Julius here.”
“Hi, Julius. It’s Dan. You got a minute?”
I knew a thousand Dans, but I recognized the voice immediately, though it’d been ten years since we last got drunk at the Gazoo together. I muted the subvocal and said, “Lil, I’ve got to take this. Do you mind?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” she sarcased at me. She sat up and pulled out her crack pipe and lit up.
“Dan,” I subvocalized, “long time no speak.”
“Yeah, buddy, it sure has been,” he said, and his voice cracked on a sob.