Stanley Hudson wants two things out of his workday: his paycheck (private school is not cheap) and some spare time to do a few crosswords (he's found that Michael rarely has something interesting to say during staff meetings, anyway).

Everyone gets called into the conference room after his first cup of coffee and he tucks his puzzle book under his arm, ready for anything the morning might bring. Run out the plot, just like every other day.

Michael asks him to choose a partner for a sales call ("pass" is apparently not an acceptable answer). Ryan is sitting there like this whole thing is beneath him (if he hates his job so much, why doesn't he get another one? He'll never amount to anything as a salesman, anyway). And that's when Stanley realizes there's a third thing he wants: to show that punk ass a little humility (and maybe pay him back for eyeing his teenage daughter).

Stanley is good at puzzles, slots all the answers into the correct squares without twitching a muscle on his face. He looks around the table, as though he might choose someone else, sighs. "I'll take the kid." He returns to his crossword, smiling on the inside. It's not mean, Stanley thinks. It's for his own good.

He phones ahead to warn the client, one of his good friends from college. Their wives go to the same salon, and when the weather is nice, they have a big barbeque the last Saturday of each month. He doesn't bother to disguise his intentions. "Julius, are you busy over there this morning? I have a favor to ask."

On the drive, Ryan asks if he can take the lead, without even being prompted. Maybe today is the day God answers all of Stanley's prayers. He is definitely going to buy a lottery ticket on the way home. He saw on the news last night that the jackpot is up to 65 million. He'll be able to do crosswords for hours, without interruption. At the beach.

They wait in the lobby for a long time, giving the boy a chance to sweat. This is going to be a great story when barbeque season rolls around; Stanley can feel it in his bones. Ice cold beer sweating in his palm, the taste of freshly grilled steak, and the memory of this day. Simple pleasures.

*

Ryan won't even look at him on the way back to the office. The laughter in Stanley's chest is loose, happy and unstoppable. Every time he glances over at Ryan, shell-shocked and staring out the window like he wants to leave his body, another wave comes. It's the most joy he's experienced in a long, long time.

Of course, that's not counting pretzel day.