I like working and I’m good at it. I love the order of everything—that there’s a stack of coffee cups right next to the machines, and a bin for silverware, and a station just for sugar and cream. It’s not the same as Margo’s Diner, but it’s familiar. As long as I’m foaming milk or running dishes, I can forget the workday will end. And I’m proud when Carly looks at me in the middle of the afternoon rush and says, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” It’s only my second day.

Adam doesn’t come in even though he said he was a regular. I wonder if he isn’t—if they don’t actually know him at Decadence and he’s not safe. I wonder if he’s mad I didn’t call. Insulted I’d rather sleep at the campground. I wonder if he even remembers he gave me his number.

My shift is done at three, but the girl who was supposed to take over for me calls at 2:45 to say she has a psych exam and can’t come.

“Rich bitch,” Carly mumbles. “Some people only work because Mommy and Daddy don’t send enough beer money.” She looks at me. Presses her hands together like she’s praying and says, “Please, April, can you stay?”

Of course, I say yes. Warmth, another shift meal, as much coffee as I can drink, and a bathroom. The excuse to stay is even better than the extra money.

The sun is low in the sky when Adam shows up. He’s with a woman. Her hair is bouncy and shiny. She doesn’t look like she has any makeup on her face except for bright red lipstick that turns her mouth into a Valentine. She’s very tall and wears a black coat that buttons all the way up to her neck and goes almost to her feet. It hugs her waist and she’s impossibly skinny, like you can’t believe her stomach and intestines and all the other stuff that makes a person could actually fit in the tiny space of her. And I can’t quite figure out why, but I’m jealous. I guess I wanted Adam to be a lonely guy who was waiting for me to call, but here he is with this woman who looks like an old fashioned movie star. He wasn’t waiting on me last night.

They stand away from the counter. He leans in to talk to her. She looks at the menu on the wall and puts her hand on his arm as she tells him something. I can’t hear what they say, because Carly is blasting this CD that sounds like a dead cat wailing. The woman takes off her coat and sits at the table in the window, the one where Adam and I sat yesterday.