“Why am I here?” Rusty asked as he walked with Bishop down a long hallway through Grover County Hospital.
“Britney Chase,” Bishop said. “She’s out of her coma and able to talk. We need a statement.”
“Didn’t all the other kids give us Jack Shit when they woke up?” Rusty asked.
“Yeah,” Bishop said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t take the statement anyway, Damian Lewis.”
“Shit,” Rusty said. “You’re still making redhead jokes?”
“For as long as you make jokes about me being big,” Bishop said.
The duo reached an elevator. Bishop pushed the call button. After a minute, the doors opened. The agent and the deputy stepped inside. Bishop pushed the button for the tenth floor.
“Like being big is something to even be embarrassed about, Sasquatch,” Rusty said. “I’d kill to have all your muscles.”
“You don’t need to kill anyone,” Bishop said. “Just get your ass to the gym.”
“Ugh,” Rusty replied. “The gym. Now that’s a whole thing. You need to work up the motivation to go there. Then you get there. Then you have to pay your fees. Then there’s always someone sitting on the equipment you want to use. And everything’s covered in a layer of sweat and the whole place smells like old socks. And don’t even get me started about the locker room.”
“What about the locker room?” Bishop asked.
“I said, ‘Don’t get me started,’ didn’t I?” Rusty asked. “Old man balls.”
“Old man balls?” Bishop asked.
“Wrinkly old man balls as far as the eye can see,” Rusty said. “Most dudes, you know, they try to be discrete. Slip off the pants real quick. Slip on the sweatpants just as quick but old men? No. They just lounge around the locker room like it’s some kind of Ancient Roman bathhouse with their geriatric cocks flapping in the breeze and you know none of those things have even been washed since Truman was President.”
Bishop stifled a grin.
“Oh, what was that?” Rusty asked. “Did I make a funny, big guy?”
“No,” Bishop said. “It’s just, now that you mention it, there are a lot of old men at my gym who do the same thing.”
“I’m telling you,” Rusty said. “People get to a certain age and they stop giving a shit about what people think of them.”
“I suppose that’s natural when your best years are behind you,” Bishop said.
“It’s like they say, “OK. I’m sixty,’” Rusty said. “This is my dick, world! Enjoy!’”
The elevator dinged. The duo stepped out onto the tenth floor and headed down another hallway.
“Still,” Bishop said. “You’re just making excuses to avoid exercise.”
“Not wanting to get slapped in the face with a wang that’s been in existence since biblical times is the best excuse I’ve got,” Rusty said.
Both men were quiet for awhile until Rusty chimed in again. “You misunderstood my question, before.”
“How’s that?” Bishop asked.
“When I asked why am I here, you told me the purpose of this visit to the hospital,” Rusty said. “What I wanted to know is why, specifically, am I here?”
“Oh,” Bishop said. “I don’t know the area well. I didn’t know Cole Walker well either, but Sharon vouched for him. You’re his friend. I assume he doesn’t keep untrustworthy people in confidence.”
“You assume right, G-man,” Rusty said. “Fine, let’s do this thing. I’ll be Starsky, you be Hutch.”
“How about we just do our jobs?” Bishop asked.
“Even better,” Rusty replied.