screws fall out all the time.

I've been busy in various ways (most of them fun) since posting chapter 1 of Slow Disaster, which means I'm not as close to posting chapter 2 as I'd like to be. But progress is steady, and it continues to get longer than I expected (nearly 11k o.O), and I wanted to share. Here's a snippet.

He gives up and phones Carl. It rings for ages before he gets the usual recorded message that the voice mailbox is full. Which means his mobile isn’t dead; wherever Carl is, he’s got to be hearing it. He’s just not fucking answering. “Bastard,” James mutters, trying him again. This time it goes straight to voicemail. “Is everything okay?” Rose asks. “Aye, grand,” he says dismissively.  Rose purses her lips. “Where is Carl?” Both she and Akram have been sending him curious looks all afternoon.  “I’m not his fucking keeper,” James snaps. “Fuck. Sorry.” He scrubs his hand through his hair. “Did something happen with Jasper?” Akram asks.  “No, Jasper’s fine. Still on his school trip. Carl’s just…” There is no explanation for this situation that he wants to give to Akram or Rose. It’s clear that Akram can tell James is holding something back, but he only hums and gives him that wee too-knowing nod of his.  If James had a pound for every time over the years Carl dramatically stormed off only to show up on his doorstep hours later with beer and a conciliatory air, he’d be retired, not working in a barely accessible basement. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “Go through what that receptionist said again.”