Waiting for Morning
“Wouldn’t want Jackson to see it and think he’d freaked out and gone religious or something. The afternoon passed, and that night Jackson brought home a case of Miller, which they shared while talking about the trial.“Dude, I don’t know. I smell trouble this time.” Jackson’s forehead creased with genuine concern as he crushed an empty aluminum can in his hand and popped open another cold one.“Tell me about it.” Brian turned his can bottom-side-up and guzzled the last bit of beer before grabbing another. “Man, I’m looking at a lot of years behind bars.”Jackson belched loudly. “You’ve got that expensive dude, what’s his name?Brian laughed, but it sounded hollow even to him. “Finch. Harold Finch.”“That’s right. Hey, man, who’s paying for that dude?”“My old man. Called him up in Virginia, and he wired me the bucks. He’s loaded.”“Cool.” Jackson took several long swigs and set his can down hard. “I thought your old man died.”“Yeah.…”
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