Page 21 of Wire
“I’m investigating.”
“OK” I stare at her for a moment, knowing full well that she will feel uncomfortable in 3, 2, 1…
“I’m done with data collection. You seem fine. I called your name four times, and you didn’t respond. I thought you may have been having a stroke or a fit. I needed to see your pupils to ascertain, and they seem fine.”
She heads to her chair, kicks her shoes off, plops down and pulls her legs up. She often sits pretzeled up like that.
“Anyway, can I ask you something?”
“Chewy, you can ask me anything.” I rethink that statement. “As long as it doesn’t involve Rhodie’s dick. Or ass.” I add as after thoughts. You really need to have firm lines with this woman.
She lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes. “It’s not that kind of question. I want to know what attributes elevate a person from friend status to best friend status. Me and Remy are friends, and her dad was just shot and I want to be supportive, but I’m not sure if I’m a best friend, or a normal friend.”
“Does it matter?”
“Ah, yeah. They’re different roles. The titles determine the level of support appropriate to offer.”
“Knock, knock brother.”
Chewy and I both spin in our seats to face the door, Tank filling up the space almost completely.
“You’re door sized.” Chewy says before looking back at me expectantly.
“Tank, you good? If it’s not anything urgent, you may be able to help me explain to Chewy what makes a best friend.” I smirk at him, knowing full well that he would rather get his shit done and move on to the next job, but I’m surprised when he lumbers over and rests his bulk against the desk beside me.
“OK Chewy, what do you want to know?” Tank asks in his smooth voice.
“What characteristics elevate a friend to best friend status?”
Tank and I look at each other for a moment before he beats me to it. “A best friend is someone you trust. Implicitly. With your life.”
“I agree. Someone that you know always has your back. You can tell them anything and they accept you. They offer you support without you asking. And you do the same for them.” I add. I can see Chewy ticking this over in her mind.
“They’re also someone that you love to spend time with. They make you laugh and you can shoot the shit or bust each other’s balls.”
“What Tank said.”
Chewy strokes her imaginary beard for a moment and then, out of the blue, she sits bolt upright and curses.
“Shit! I have been a terrible friend! I need to make this up to him.” She starts madly Googling gift baskets. Me and Tank share a look, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.
“Chewy! What the hell makes you think you’ve been a bad friend?” I’m leaning forward, waiting for her to tell me what’s got her panties in a bunch.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Tank leaning forward too, but with a smirk, and I just know he’s waiting for whatever unhinged shit that is going to come out of her mouth.
“Marx.”
“Huh?”
“Marx. From what you’ve just told me, Marx is my best friend.”
My eyebrows shoot upwards “Wait, I thought I was your best friend?”
“Well, according to what you and Tank just told me, you’re not. You tick many other best friend boxes, but you don’t bust my balls.” She shakes her head back and forth, “This whole time Marx was fulfilling best friend duties and I never knew. I better go tell him I appreciate him.”
With that, she flies out of the room, her tiny feet padding down the hall. The sound of her voice shrilly calling out for the Pres has me and Tank doubled over in laughter. Wiping my eyes, I gesture for Tank to sit in Chewy’s seat.
“Right, brother, what can I do for you?”