None of them wave back. We’re still playing the pretending not to be friends game, I see.

There’s a woman behind the bar who I haven’t seen before, and I turn my most charming smile on her. She’s pretty. A dainty little face, wavy hair framing either side, and eyes that shine, and I have to remind myself that I’m not here to hit on her. I’m here for super-serious business.

“Hey, is Luther around?” I ask, trying and failing to sound professional despite the way my voice squeaks. I really need to get Lars out of my brain.

Bar girl gives me a flirty smile. “Who’s asking?”

“His best friend, Perry.”

Her smile dims. “Oh. He’s, uh, in his office.”

“Thanks. Can I bother you for a Coke before I go?”

She pours one, smile completely gone, and then adds a wedge of lime to it. Looks like Luther has briefed her on what I like, and I’m not surprised—he’s a labradoodle dad. It’s just how they are.

“I’ll head on back.”

She nods, and I make a mental note to give Luther the heads-up that she might need more customer service training. I send my friends another wave as I head for the hallway that leads to the bathrooms and Luther’s office. Unlike Saint Clare’s, his office is small and windowless, like a storage closet, saving the larger back room for his staff. It’s a selfless choice that most employers wouldn’t make.

I’m halfway toward his office when I’m yanked backward, almost off my feet. I barely get a second to be surprised before I’m slammed into the wall beside me.

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice hisses by my ear. It takes me a moment to pick that it’s Arlie.

“Need a quick word with Luther.”

“Do you want to get killed?” She turns me roughly so I can see her, and the worry in her dark eyes throws me for a second. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I need⁠—”

She slams me back against the wall so hard my head bounces off it.

“Okay, I need you to stop manhandling me for a start. Damn, woman.” I rub at the sore spot. “I’ve had a rough day, and I’d really like to head home for a nap, but I need to talk to Luther first.”

“No. You really, really don’t.”

I finally pick up on her tone. “Why?”

Everett barrels into the hall. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing here?”

“Like I just said⁠—”

“You need to go. Now.”

“Wow. And here I was, thinking my friends would be happy to see me.”

Everett pulls Arlie off me. “Your name came up, and you think it’s smart to walk into a bar of people like us and give them an easy payday?”