At 5:15 p.m., as soon as I arrived home from work, I tried to call Sven to plan something for the evening. The phone rang six times, and he didn’t answer. Finally, I hung up. I reasoned that maybe he was in the bathroom, or perhaps he was out in the backyard for a few minutes. Still, it was unusual for him to not answer the phone.

I paced around my apartment. Something just didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t place it. I tried sitting down in front of the TV, but I couldn’t think of any kind of show that I wanted to watch, Instead, I just sprawled on the couch and stared into the distance.

The apartment was neater and tidier than it had been in years. I knew that I would have to invite Sven over soon, and I couldn’t bear the idea of him seeing the pit I was living in when we first started dating. Over the past two weeks, on evenings that I spent at home on my own, I methodically moved from room to room cleaning up. As I looked around, I was proud of what I accomplished. It was still just a glorified box, but I wouldn’t be embarrassed to have Sven see it.

Fifteen minutes later, I tried to call again. Once more there was no answer. My palms started to itch, and I was a little bit worried. I told myself to calm down and try to call once more in half an hour. If I didn’t get an answer from Sven after the third try, I could drive over to his house and see what was up.

I opened the refrigerator and searched to see if there was something worth snacking on. I wanted to have dinner with Sven, but I needed something to distract myself while I waited the next half hour before I tried to call again. I told myself that he might call on his own, and that would cut the waiting time down.

The only thing in my refrigerator that would make an easy snack was two old yogurt containers of questionable age. I pulled them out one by one to check the dates and discovered they were more than a month past the suggested date for eating. I grumbled and tossed them in the trash.

Then I pulled open the freezer. I had a couple of frozen pasta meals that I could heat up, but I didn’t want to eat an entire meal in case I was going to eat later. I slammed the freezer door shut and returned to the couch. I turned on the TV and switched the channel to local news.

It was a boring mishmash of the latest violent crimes in the city and a thunderstorm that was expected to arrive in two days. The weatherman seemed almost giddy with excitement, because we were experiencing an unusual dry spell, and the promised storm would bring that to an end.

Just as I picked my cell phone up from the coffee table, it rang. My hand shook as I looked to see who was calling. It wasn’t someone on my contact list, and I didn’t recognize the number. Still, it was a local call, and I decided to answer.

A female voice on the other end asked, “Is this Lowell Baker?”

I said, “Yes, it is. May I ask who is calling?”

She answered, “This is Sally.” She mumbled a last name that I couldn’t understand, but then she continued, “I’m one of the owners of the Toolbox, and I had a matter that I wanted to talk over with you.” Her voice sounded flat and lacking in emotion.

“A matter?” I asked.

She said, “I would rather not discuss it over the phone, Lowell. Would you be able to stop in at the Toolbox? I will be here all this evening, and then tomorrow I arrive at 11:00 a.m.”

I was confused by what she might be wanting to discuss, but I was a regular customer. Blake was also a bartender at the Toolbox. I didn’t want to ruffle feathers and create any unnecessary problems. I said, “Sure, I can be down in about fifteen minutes.”

Sally’s voice remained deadpan and flat. She said, “Thank you for that, Lowell. Just tell Claw at the bar that you’re here, and we’ll get things taken care of.”

I tried to call Sven one more time, and I had the same result as earlier. The phone rang six times, and there was no answer. I grabbed a light jacket out of my closet, and headed out the door.

It was an unusually cool evening, but the sky was cloudless. The moon was nearly full, and it made me think of the dinner on the beach with Sven. I smiled to myself while I climbed into the car.

The Toolbox was a short drive from my apartment building. It was not even ten minutes away. When I arrived, there was ample parking on the street nearby. It was early on a week night, so only the bare bones regular customers would be drinking.

Claw was working the bar like Sally mentioned. I was used to receiving a cheerful welcome, but instead he just gave me a solemn nod and said, “Sally and Blake are waiting for you in the office.” He added the comment, “I think you know where it is.”

I did know where the office was, but I hadn’t set foot in it before. I knocked on the door that contained a plaque that read “Private.”

Blake pulled open the door and reached out a hand to shake. I was surprised that he didn’t offer me a hug. As I shook his hand, he said, “Lowell, come in.” Then he pointed at an empty chair and said, “Have a seat.”

Sally said, “I think we’ve met once or twice, Lowell. You are one of our regular customers.”

I was nervous and sat on my hands to try and avoid fidgeting. I answered. “Yes, I’m here regularly. Blake and I are good friends.”

Sally said, “Yes, I understood that which is one of the reasons I’m so surprised I have to talk to you about what I’m about to bring up.”

I cocked my head to the side with a questioning look and glanced at Blake before looking back at Sally. I asked, “There’s something bad going on?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blake nod. He was always lighthearted and happy. I’d never seen such a morose look on Blake’s face.

Sally said, “I consider it bad. Adding up two different occasions, nearly $1,000 has gone missing from the Toolbox in the last week.”

I said, “Oh, that isn’t good.” Then I looked from one of them to the other, and the reason why I was called in suddenly occurred to me. In a choking voice, I said, “You’re looking at me. Why are you looking at me?”

Sally said, “There is evidence that you might be involved. Admittedly, it is circumstantial, but I thought you might want to shine some more light on the situation for us.”

I blurted out,”No,” and then I added, “Well, I would if I knew anything. I don’t know anything. I would never steal money. Why would I do a thing like that?”

Blake said, “You were back by the office the most recent night that we lost money. We don’t want to accuse you, Lowell, but we thought you might be able to help. Maybe you know something. Maybe you saw someone else back here.”

I tried to remember being near the office. I knew this was the first time I’d ever stepped inside, but then I remembered what Blake must have seen. The last time I was at the Toolbox it wasn’t very busy, and so I just poked around in corners I hadn’t seen before.

I said, “You are accusing me, and no, I don’t know anything. The last time I was here I was poking around some, but this is the first time I’ve ever been inside this office. Honestly, it is.”

Sally said, “We don’t want to call the police.”

I narrowed my eyes and stared back at her. “Why should you? I haven’t done anything. Maybe one of your employees took the money. Have you questioned them like you are questioning me?”

She said, “I did ask them, and they said they didn’t know anything. I trust my employees.”

“But you don’t trust your customers?” I stood up from the chair. “I get it now. You brought me in to accuse me of something I know nothing about.”

Blake reached out to grab my shirt. He said, “Lowell, wait…”

I tore away from his grip and said, “I don’t have any reason to wait, Blake.” Then I thought again about Sven not answering my calls. I stared at Blake and asked, “Does Sven know?”

He didn’t answer. He only looked down at his feet and shuffled them back and forth.

“Damnit! You told Sven when it’s not even true! I’m going home. Enjoy the rest of your interrogations.”

I stormed out the back of the Toolbox slamming the door behind me. Just after exiting, I leaned back against the wall trying to catch my breath. I slowly tried to piece everything together.

It was another of those damned random events. I happened to be spotted near the office on a night when money disappeared. They didn’t have any leads, so they pinned it on the guy who’s different from the others. I kicked at the concrete of the sidewalk.

My next thought was wondering why the hell they told Sven. Why did he need to know anything about it when they didn’t even know it was true?

I wondered if Sven would assume that it was true. I wanted to trust him, but trust hadn’t worked particularly well for me in the past. Trusting people always seemed to eventually bite me in the ass somehow.

I climbed into the car with my hand shaking as I stuck the key in the ignition. I decided against going home. I wasn’t ready to just be by myself alone in the apartment.

Instead, I decided to drive across town to a straight bar that I knew. If it wasn’t a gay bar, I was unlikely to meet anyone at all that I knew well. I thought about Sven and tears started to roll down my cheeks as I pulled away from the curb.

At the first stoplight, I wasn’t paying attention to the red light and nearly caused an accident in the middle of the intersection. I could feel my pulse pounding, and my breath quickening.

I decided to drive the back streets as much as possible. I almost caused another accident. I yelled out loud, “Damnit, Blake! What the fuck were you doing?”

After what felt like an hour, I pulled up outside of the Drop, Bye bar. The lights were on inside, but it looked like the crowd was small.

Shortly after I walked inside, I realized that I’d failed at finding somewhere that nobody knew who I was. Billy Alvey was sitting at the bar wearing a leather jacket with his long black hair streaming down his back. He was snuggling up to a blond woman. He acknowledged me when I walked in with a nod.

If there was anyone familiar I had to see in my current state of mind, he was probably the best. Billy was even more of an outsider on the softball team than me, but he was our best player outside of Blake. I returned the nod and then asked the bartender for straight up Jack Daniel’s.

He slid the glass across the bar to me, and I picked it up to carry it off to a dark corner. I sipped at the Jack, and then I pulled my phone out and set it on the small table. I stared at it and tried to will Sven to call me.

I whispered, “Please, Sven, call me. You trust me. You don’t believe I would steal money. I need money, but I wouldn’t steal money. Please, Sven, call.”