“Maybe don’t say it that way,” Itch replies. “Makes it sound like I’m planning to be dead.”

Lisa comes back and asks, “Can I get you a beer?”

“I’ll have whatever they’re drinking.”

“’Kay. ’Nother pale ale. You-all ready to order too?”

“Yeah. I think everyone wants the ribeye.” Hunter looks down at Itch and Nugget, who nod their heads in agreement. “Medium. No salad. Baked potatoes with butter.”

“Any A-One?”

“No, ma’am,” all three say in unison.

“Got it. I’ll get that other beer,” Lisa says to Hunter as she takes the menus.

Johnny finishes his bourbon at last. Slides down from his seat, sticks out his hand to Hunter. “Nice to meet you, Hunter.”

Turning to Johnny, Hunter asks the question whose answer he already knows. He shakes Johnny’s hand. “Headed out?”

“Yeah, best be getting home. Wife was expecting me hours ago.”

Hunter suddenly thinks of the guy who broke down and wanted to commit suicide. It was damn near suicide letting this poor schmo drive home. He knows what his father would do. “Sure you should be driving?”

“I’m fine. Really. I got this.”

“How many you had?”

“Four.”

“Why don’t you let me call you a ride home.”

“Really, I’m—”

“Give me a number.” Hunter stands up, towering over Johnny. He already has his cell out of his front pocket. No way in hell is he letting Johnny get behind the wheel after four glasses of bourbon. He needs some guidance. “Just lost your job. No sense in adding to a long losing streak.”

Johnny seems to shrink a little, as if defeated by the truth of Hunter’s words. “You’re probably right.” He says a number, and Hunter thumbs the digits into his phone. A female voice answers. Speaking to Johnny’s wife. Explaining who he is and that her husband had a few drinks and probably shouldn’t be driving. Hunter tells her where he is. She tells Hunter she is on her way and not to let him leave, that Johnny already has two DWI’s, and thanks him.

Hunter tells Johnny, “Get yourself a coffee. Your wife’s on her way.”

Sheepish and slump-shouldered, Johnny sits back down at the bar, waves Lisa over, and orders a black coffee.

Nugget asks Itch, “So what gives, dude? You gonna tell us what’s up?”

“What’s up with what?”

“This ‘affairs in order’ shit, ‘problems to reconcile’. We all know what you’re up to.”

Lisa brings back a steaming mug of coffee to Johnny. Behind her, a server with crazy brown hair obstructing his field of vision comes out from the kitchen with three plates—one in each hand, a third riding on his right forearm. He sets the plates in front of them, and Lisa returns with silverware wrapped in white napkins. “Can I get you guys anything else?”

“Water,” Nugget say, and Itch and Hunter echo his request.