The drive was brief, maybe not even five full minutes. They parked in an empty lot and stepped back into the rain, which had slowed to a trickle. A repurposed warehouse stood before them, worn brick and high ceilings, a fort of a building, squat and sturdy. Theo reached the door first, stepping to the side to open it for Sol. “Such a charmer,” Sol joked, bowing before stepping inside.

Dim lights, black metal, and rustic wood greeted them, followed by the host, a coiffed young white man. “Table for two?” he queried.

Sol nodded.

“Do you have a reservation?”

“No.”

“Hmm. That might be a problem.”

“How so?”

“We’re pretty full tonight. The wait could be up to three hours.”

“This is full?” Sol asked, motioning toward a section full of empty seats.

“Yes,” the host answered, his voice apologetic.

“This doesn’t look full to me.”

“Unfortunately, what you see doesn’t tell the whole story,” the host said, pointing at his iPad and smiling.

Sol stared at him, her eyes fixed on his crabby faux smile. He was beyond words.

Sol removed her poncho and thoroughly shook it out, the plastic cutting through the air and slinging water over the host, his podium, his iPad, the fresh mints, and even herself. The host remained silent throughout, his body as stiff as his coiffure. But Sol knew he had got the message.

“Are you sure you can’t squeeze us in? Technology gets things wrong sometimes, right?”

The host swiped through the iPad like a frenzied maestro then grabbed two menus and led them to a table adjoining a wall.

“Thank you so much,” Sol exclaimed as he departed to his podium.

“You know they’re going to put, like, AIDS in our meal, right?” Theo informed her as he unfolded his cloth napkin.

“Probably. But that would still be better than anything I ate in juvie.”

They laughed then peeled open their menus, two bound and embroidered booklets the size of a folded newspaper. The waiter came soon after, taking their orders and reclaiming their menus. Sol was sad to see them go. Even after she had decided what she would eat, she was fascinated by the odd combinations dashed throughout the menu: parsnips and peppercorns, pecans and parsley.

They sat in silence, taking in the scene. Waiters shuffling from table to table, busboys boomeranging from the kitchen, the bartender bounding up and down the bar, hands always full, with either money or beverages. Sol could have enjoyed that silence forever, but she knew Theo was going to break.

“So, what’s with you and steak?” he asked in a joking yet serious tone.

“Just wanted to step it up, treat myself a little.”

“I feel that. I’ve actually been keeping it low-key lately. Cutting grass, trying to save money to fix my car.”

“Yeah? Sorry about that.”

“No worries. You took control of things.”

“Somebody had to. You really fucked up.”