His ever-present phone sits blinking on the table between them, along with his laptop.

‘Busy?’ she asks.

‘Looking into a few things,’ he says business-like. Lewis had said something on the phone about Kiama quitting college, but she can’t remember what for.

Another polo-shirt-wearing girl comes over, the X-Treme Jump logo stretched across her boobs. ‘Kiama, did you want to try one of those new vegan burgers?’

He considers it. ‘Yvonne, are you hungry?’

‘No. A coffee would be great though.’

‘I’m going to be honest with you, the coffee here is a little sketchy. I’ll have a slushie, please.’

The girl laughs and puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘One coffee and one slushie. You want me to mix the flavours for you?’ She wriggles her hips as she says this.

‘You know how I like it, Tina.’

‘Trina,’ she corrects before walking off.

They both watch her go and Yvonne struggles to think of what to talk about next. ‘It’s cold in here,’ she notes. ‘Are you trying to save on a bill?’

‘Always. Plus, it keeps the kids from overheating, lets them jump for longer. More jumping, more money,’ he laughs.

‘Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.’

‘Hardly, this place is a money pit. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to keep it open.’ He speaks like he owns it.

‘How long have you worked here?’ Yvonne asks, keen to find out his link to the place. Maybe he’s more driven than Lewis made out.

‘Too long.’

Trina returns, staring at Kiama, who doesn’t have the sense to flatter her with anything more than a nod as she puts down his drink.

He notices Yvonne looking. ‘You think you won’t like it because it’s a kids’ drink.’

‘And because it’s bright blue and purple.’

‘I don’t even know what we put in here, but it’s so good.’ He takes a sip then slaps his hand against his forehead and squints. He looks goofy, like eight-year-old Kiama.

They drink and Yvonne finds herself tuning into the music, there’s a line about asking girls in the club to ‘rub their titties’.

Kiama laughs, ‘This is obviously not my playlist.’

‘I would hope not.’

‘Dad plays this crap seven days a week at home. He doesn’t listen to anything made past 1996.’

Of course, it was always the type of music Lewis liked. He tried tirelessly to get her into hip-hop, but she only ever pretended to like it.

‘Lewis owns this place?’

He looks surprised by her question. ‘Yeah, doesn’t he bombard you with voucher codes for it online?’

‘I’m not online.’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot. Apart from that one page on your work’s website, you’re a ghost. How can you keep up with what’s going on?’

‘I don’t need to know everyone’s business. Is he here?’