“How do you handle harassment?” Steve asks, signaling Lou for a refill.
“There’s always somebody cracking jokes. Nothing personal, but it’s difficult not to feel that way sometimes.”
Lou comes over with a pitcher of lemonade. He fills Steve’s glass half way, ice chips clinking against the edge of the glass.
“How’re the eggs?” he asks me.
I slide the empty plate to the end of the table.
“That good?” he says. “Get anything else for you?”
I hold up a hand. “I’m full.”
He takes my plate back to the kitchen, and I pull out a ten-dollar bill.
“I can pay for my own lemonade,” Steve says.
“It’s on me.”
Steve sits back and stares at me. “Why the sudden interest in meeting right now?”
I fold my wallet into my back pocket and reach for my coffee cup to empty it. I take a drink, biding time, and slide the mug to the edge for Lou to pick up.