Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

“Did you say ex-girlfriend?” Now the older man laughs and shakes his head, like I amuse him greatly. “Caught that, did ya? You little pervert.” I should be embarrassed by how quickly I latched on to this tidbit, but my desperate curiosity prevents me from overthinking it. “Clyde, for fuck’s sake, I’m trying to give you an organ, and you’re sitting here shit-talking me to my face.” He smacks his lips. “Someone’s gotta do it. You’re more depressing than I am, even though I’m the one who’s dying. Surprised you’re not offering me both kidneys with how goddamn emo you’ve been lately.” I freeze at that, jaw working as I assess the man. “Wait. Are you hanging out with me as some sort of good deed?” Clyde glances away. “Why else do you think I’m out drinking stupid green beer with you? There are security cameras all over this place, and I’m pretty sure Doris is an undercover agent.” My mouth pops open and stays that way. I thought I was here doing Clyde a favor when he’s the one extending a pity invite to his loner friend on St. Paddy’s Day. I don’t want to fixate on that part, so I parry it aside with, “You think Doris what?” He takes a swig and glances around. “You heard me. Don’t make a scene—she’s probably watching. Reporting.” “Clyde, you say the wildest stuff sometimes. I don’t even know where you come up with it. What would she report?” He grins. “That you’d miss me if I died and that you desperately want to save your best friend’s life.” My eyes roll. Best friend. “No kidn...