I tell her about the job while she shakes my cocktail. “House special old-fashioned,” she says, passing me the glass. “On the rocks.”

I take a sip, and she walks back to shout my order to the cook before settling down on a stool next to me. “So, reality television, huh? That’s a far cry from Independent Lens.”

This time I take a big swallow and relish in the burn.

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t say anything more before Kevin walks out, wrapping me in a bear hug that fits his monstrous size. I’m large, but he’s colossal. Six foot six and three hundred pounds of pure Viking, easy. While my beard is trim and neat, his is groomed but hangs to his collarbone. His thick blond hair is parted in a severe line to the side, and he wears thick red plastic glasses. He’s wearing suspenders to match the frames over a plaid shirt and jeans. He’s a hipster lumberjack banjo-playing distillery owner and I’ve missed the fucker.

We were roommates before either of us could grow facial hair. Kevin met Beth our freshman year and that was it for him. He worked for a few years painting houses with her dad before saving enough for prime real estate in downtown Le Croix, just off the boardwalk.

“I assumed it was you after I saw an order come through for a plain old cheeseburger.”

“You can’t take the Midwest out of the guy.”

“After you’re done, I’ve got a place for you to look at.”

“Already?”

Kevin grins. “I know, right? One of our renters just wrapped on their residency. Moving to Seattle. Available at the end of the week.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Well, look at it first. If it’s not your deal, I have some friends who might have other options.”

“Sure,” I agree easily, but I already know I don’t care what it looks like. I’ll be taking it.

“Where’s Shelby?”

Beth smacks his shoulder.

“What? Is it supposed to be a secret? He’s been not-so-casually mentioning the woman for the last ten years. And they happen to both be here, in Michigan, where he’s suddenly interested in filming a home-reno show, and less than a month later he’s all ‘Hey, Kev, guess what? In totally unrelated and irrelevant news, I’m quitting my illustrious career as world-traveling documentarian and moving to Le Croix where I have never mentioned wanting to live ever.’”

I swirl the ice in my glass and put it down. “I didn’t quit. I’m on sabbatical. And I just saw her again for the first time in years, like, a month ago, and it was orchestrated by that fuckwit Lyle Jessup. To say it’s complicated is a complete understatement.”