When Vic entered DiMaggio’s, Kendra was already there, camped out in a corner booth by the windows so she could watch for him. Her face lit up when she saw him, and even though he started her way, she still waved. As he passed the counter, Vic shot a look at the man behind the counter, a large kid half Vic’s age who was always slapping his spatula against the grill whenever Vic came into the place. “Hey, man,” the kid called out, seeing Vic. “The usual?”
Vic nodded and, unable to delay any longer, headed over to Kendra’s booth, where she sat sipping on a soda. “There you are,” she said as he slid into the seat across from her. “I was starting to think you’d bail on me.”
“Have to eat sometime,” Vic muttered. They stared at each other for a moment, Vic waiting for her to begin, but when
