“There are good schools here, too,” Will said.
“I hate Cincinnati.”
“Miami’s right up the road. Live on campus. You’d never know Cincinnati existed.”
“Still pimping for your alma mater. You went there with all those preppy snots and became a cop. How the hell did that happen, man?”
Will laughed and John did, too, stretching out his legs and relaxing a bit. Will thought about offering some fatherly advice about college and careers. He wanted to ask about his friends and find out what his plans were, but he thought better of it. He was grateful for the company, and had been the designated bad guy in John’s life for so long that he didn’t want to spoil the moment.
“I’ve partied up there,” John said. “But the kids are so stuck up.”
Will knew that could be true at one of Ohio’s “Public Ivies.” Time to change the subject.
“Those are nice shoes.”
“You think so?” John said. “I bought ’em in Portland. They’re called Drainmakers.” He pointed to the lime green soles.
“How are you?” John asked.
“I’m okay. It’s been a long day.”
“But the cancer’s gone, right?”
Will wearied of explaining the betrayal his body had carried out a few months after he turned forty-one. The doctors had discovered a tumor inside his spinal cord. It was a very rare condition. Luckily it had not been cancerous. They called it “malignant by location”: it would have left him paralyzed. Fortunately, they seem to have gotten it all. He ran through it for John patiently. There was no reason to expect Cindy would have told John the details.
“So it won’t come back, right?”
“Unfortunately, there’s no guarantee of that. Every day’s a gift.”
“You’ve turned into one mellow dude, Will. Letting me have a beer, not even ragging my ass about the pot.”
He was trying to get a rise, but Will remembered being that age, when small things loomed so huge, when a young man’s pride was everything.
“Come on, John,” he said gently. “That was a long time ago. Your mother and I were concerned for your well-being, doing the whole parent thing. You’ll be there someday.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess you heard about Kristen Gruber.”
“Yeah.”
“You remember meeting her?” Will had taken John to the party thrown by the show’s producers to mark the completion of filming for the first season of LadyCops: Cincinnati. It was the last time Will had attempted to draw John out of his shyness. Kristen had worn one of those little black dresses that night.
“I remember.”
“I’m the lead detective on the case.”
“Back in homicide? Good for you,” John said.