The people who shop there are low-class.”

“They have the yellow baby blanket for fourteen dollars,” I said.

“You tore the receipt out of my bag, but I know they’ve still got one on the shelf.”

“We’re not spending fourteen dollars on worthless baby junk,” David said.

“Buy the blanket, and I’ll sign every page in your manila envelope,” I said.

The line was silent for six long seconds.

“Which entrance, then?” David asked.