"Make it quick." The standard greeting from his best friend Stuart, affectionately called Uncle Stu by Teddy's children and Bones by everyone else, crackled over the line. Cell phones had come a long way but reception on the Altiplano in Bolivia was still a bit dicey.
"I bought you a plane ticket." Teddy was grinning from ear to ear, although his best friend Stu Lazarus couldn't see it over the phone.
"I do not need a plane ticket." Classic Uncle Stu—rejecting almost everything he heard outright—he put the contrary in contrarian. "To where?"
"Cuba. Cabo San Antonio to be exact. I bought you a ticket to Havana, you are on your own from there. When you get there, find us a boat to buy and arrange for scuba gear. We are…" Teddy could hardly suppress his excitement.
"Hold it. Hold it right there." Bones couldn't hide his accent or his Minnesota-isms. "Traveling to Cuba is illegal. Even if it were not illegal, it does not make sense to me. Why would I want to go to Cuba?"
"You want to know why?" Teddy loved this part.
"Yes." Flat response, no emotion, Minnesota twang, classic Bones.
"Do you really want to know why?" Teddy wound up.
"I am unable to think of one reason why I would ever go to Cuba."
"Because you've got a rotten life. Ever since Tina left you, you've been wasting your life brewing homemade beer and watching UFC. You are the definition of a loser and I am trying to give you a chance to be useful to society."
"It is called micro-brewing." Bones ignored all the rest.
"It's what?"
"It is called micro-brewing. Micro-brews have more flavor, more variety and more intensity than wine." Bones never seemed to notice whether anyone was listening or actually cared to hear what he was talking about.
"Right. The micro-brew thing again. Are you getting on the plane or not? I'm serious. You need a fresh start." Teddy let the silence hang.
"No."
"No? Opportunities like this don't often come around for losers like you." Teddy hoped he could use humor to cajole his friend.
"No, thank you." Bones was matter of fact.
"Are you pouting? Is it because I told you the truth about your life or the micro-brew thing?" Teddy started considering other options.
"The micro-brew thing... and the UFC." Bones could be stubborn.
"I haven't told you the best part: I'm bringing Joshua and Caleb! I'm sending Jonah and Amos to their Auntie Bo's in Hawaii for this project—too dangerous."
Teddy found that if he just changed the subject, Bones often lost his train of thought and moved on. Teddy had been using this trick on his toddlers for years when he found it worked just as well with his 36 year-old best friend.
Silence.
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I like micro-brews and the UFC, not as much as you, but I do enjoy the occasional match and a cold one... preferably from a small-batch local artisan that takes the subtle balance between malt and hops that defines all great European beers and dumps it in favor of hops, hops and more hops." Teddy texted him the info and hung up.
"What are we doing? Teddy? Teddy?" Bones threw the phone across the room, flipped the mute off the TV and settled in with another cold one for a little ground and pound.