Sara hurries into her exercise gear. In the kitchen Herb is eating a banana. He passes her one, and she pours them both coffee. The clock says seven—they’ve all gotten four hours of sleep. Jason steps into the kitchen next, gray-faced and staggering. He’s in a pair of Herb’s too-short sweats, a faded Lions T-shirt that is tight at the shoulders. Even so, in the bright of morning Sara recognizes him. Not from the field, but from his advertising campaigns, billboards and bus stops around Phoenix metro. And she’s seen that handsome face on the front page of the grocery tabloids. For some reason she’d assumed he played football.

“Did you shower?” Herb sniffs, makes a face. Jason still smells like booze, now also the tang of sweat. “Never mind, you’ll sweat out the rest.” Kirby does a figure eight between the athlete’s legs before hopping into Herb’s lap. “At least someone’s happy this morning,” Herb says, patting the dog on the head.

Their bad moods aside, the morning is glorious, the sky impossibly blue, the air crisp. Sara drives them to the nature preserve, and at the trailhead they stop at a large, laminated map. “How about this one?” Sara points out a route. The legend says it’s two miles up and back. “I can’t tell if it’s paved, though.”

“No bother,” Herb says, patting the arm of his wheelchair. “This puppy can do anything. Jason?” Jason’s staring at the lines like they’re dancing. Herb puts a hand on his arm. “This is for your own good.”

Within five minutes, the trail’s settled into a steady climb, not steep but far from flat. Kirby dashes ahead, yipping happily. Then comes Sara, then a trudging Jason. He’s forgotten his ball cap, doesn’t have sunglasses, and without either, he squints like he’s staring down a spotlight. Herb downshifts to bounce over the rocks, weaving between the jutting arms of cacti, one eye glancing down to his phone. “You get a signal up here?” Herb asks. Bright pink flowers explode from the tips of cacti.

Sara shrugs. “Phone’s in the car.”

“Jason, you?” Herb holds the cell above his head.

“I don’t know where my phone is. I haven’t seen it since—”

“Where did you have dinner last night?” Sara is trying to be helpful. “Maybe you forgot it there.”

“Or maybe it’s in that hussy’s car.” Herb rolls over a stone and it kicks up, pinging a cactus with a thwunk. “Do I need to worry about this lady, this Tamara? You met her at Don & Charlie’s?”

“Yes, I mean no.”

“No, you didn’t meet her there, or no, I don’t need to worry about her?”

“You don’t need to worry about her. Just a nice lady, a bit down on her luck.”

“Nothing a little larceny and property damage can’t solve.”