Barry pulled slowly into the white zone; more slowly than he otherwise would have, because there was a cop standing there ready to yell and issue tickets.
Corey looked up from his phone, unlatched his seat belt, reached for the door handle. “Thanks.”
“That’s it?” Barry shook his head. “Just ‘thanks’?
“What do you want, Barry? Tears and hugs and promises to call? I’m not going to call.” He stepped out onto the sidewalk. “And neither are you.”
Barry glanced nervously at the policeman. “Keep your voice down. We don’t want—”
“The cop doesn’t care, Barry.”
“We’re brothers, we should be—”
“What? Close? We were never that close, Barry.” He reached through the passenger’s side rear window to grab his bag with his dirty clothes and odd choice of reading materials and whatever the hell else he’d brought. “We were just adjacent.”
Barry watched him walk briskly into the terminal.