“We’ll do the heavy lifting for you.”

The metal doors slid closed and cut off his face.

By half past six, I was sitting in a deep green leather booth at the Highland Park restaurant, waiting for Frank and the lead contract negotiators from the city.

Frank sat across from me, tapping his wooden pen against the cloth napkin while he went over the project schedule on a tablet.

“We need to show a united front tonight, Frank,” I said.