If you drop a tray of coffee mugs, it comes out of your tips.”

“I’ll be here at ten fifteen,” I said.

I walked back to the pickup, where Nate was waiting with the engine idling and the heater blowing warm air on his work boots.

“Did she take you?” he asked when I pulled the heavy door shut.

“Friday night,” I said.

“Cash in hand every Sunday morning.”

He put the truck in gear, pulled out of the diner lot, and turned toward the industrial park on the east side of town.

“Where are we going?” I asked.