Zev glanced down at his watch. “I’ve got to be parked by sunset so that might be cutting it a little close.”

“Sunset’s not for three hours,” Tony pointed out then added, as Zev’s brows rose again. “They list it in the paper. I just happened to remember.” After all those years with Henry, he couldn’t stop remembering—no need to mention that.

“Friday night traffic can be a problem, even heading into the city, but I guess half an hour won’t make that much difference. It had better be coffee, though. There’s a place that carries kosher about four blocks from my apartment; it’d make it a little easier for me if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

They agreed to meet back in the office and as Zev disappeared back into post, Tony turned to see Amy giving him two thumbs up. Fucking great. Now everyone would assume he and Zev were out on a date. And, except for in Amy’s tiny little mind, it wasn’t a date. He liked Zev and all, but the music director just wasn’t . . .

. . . Lee Nicholas.

God. I really am an ass.

The clientele in the coffee shop/bakery was mostly the same Gen-X group that hung around in coffee shops all over the city; the main difference being that most of the men wore yarmulkes and the bakery sold hamantaschen, the triangular Purim cookies.

“Oh, man, I love these things,” Tony enthused as the counter staff put two on a paper plate.

“So do a lot of people,” Zev sighed as he moved his tray toward the cash register. “That’s why they bake them all year now.”

“Is that a problem?”

He shrugged and smiled a little sheepishly. “No, I just think it makes them less . . .”

“Special?”

“Yeah.”

“Just part of the whole strawberries in February thing. I have a friend who thinks the world went to hell when we started being able to get strawberries in February,” he elaborated as Zev looked confused. “He says we’ve lost touch with the circle of life.”

“I’ll pass on the singing warthogs if it’s all the same to you.”

“Okay, I’m paraphrasing a bit. He doesn’t actually quote Disney.” Although the thought of Henry facing off against the Mouse was pretty funny. Reaching for his wallet with one hand, he grabbed Zev’s arm with the other. “I’ll get it. I asked.”

“I made you come all the way to South Granville, I’ll get it.”

“You drove and I’m a lot closer to home than I was.”

“I make considerably more than you do.”

“Okay.” Grinning broadly, Tony stepped back and motioned him forward. “That’s convincing.”