06

Point of view — James Cutter

I ran out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped loosely around my waist. That is after screaming for someone to get the damn phone. And before realizing that no one was home. I had dropped off my mother at the hospital for her usual check up and my half brother, Simon Tunes, was out. As always. 

I used my had to wipe off the soap on my face but it was a miserable effort. Rather, some of it got into my eye. At least I made it to the living room before the phone stopped ringing. 

“Cutter's residence.” And Tunes'. If anyone is stupid enough to look for him. 

“You got the poop?” 

“The what?” My brows knitted in confusion.

“Thought you said you were going to get some shit.” 

I palmed my face. “I didn’t mean literal shit. I meant sheet. Sheet! As in the contract sheet. I’ve got no business with manure. I am the middleman, remember?”

“Right. I would never understand that job.”

Of course I knew who was speaking.