be　alone；”　Chuck　said；　finishing　off　his　beer　and　sliding　off　the　stool。　“Look；　I’m　heading　to　Aspen　tomorrow。　You　should　e。　Or　at　least　promise　you’re　not　going　to　freak　out　again。　Okay？”　Chuck　locked　eyes　with　Nate。

“Thanks；　man。”　Nate　walked　him　to　the　door。　“I’ll　think　about　Aspen；”　he　lied　to　Chuck’s　retreating　back。　Then　he　ran　upstairs　and　yanked　open　the　top　drawer　of　his　Chippendale　desk。　He　pulled　out　the　wrinkled　cream　envelope。　It　felt　weighted　and　heavy。　Instantly；　Nate　knew　what　it　was。

He　slid　his　index　finger　under　the　envelope　flap；　ripped　it　open；　and　allowed　Chips’s　antique　silver　pass　to　drop　into　his　palm。　It　looked　tarnished　and　worn　and