“The wall is okay, but this floor is ruined. See how the paint worked down in the cracks? Those creeps ruined it.”

Pike saw she was right. The paint had seeped into the seams between the Marmoleum squares and would be there until the floor was replaced.

Pike said, “They won’t be back.”

She paused again, then stood, pushing a rope of hair from her face. Her eyebrows arched, and Pike saw humor in her eyes, as if she already knew how his story would end and wanted to have fun with him.

“And you know this how?”

“These people in a gang, they have a leader like in any other organization. I spoke with the person they answer to.”

She studied him for a moment, then deepened her voice, trying to sound like Marlon Brando.

“You made him an offer he couldn’t refuse?”

Pike wasn’t sure what to say, so he drifted past her to peer out the new window. The street appeared normal.

“You got your uncle to go home?”

“He’s not going to stay in bed. He gets dizzy when he stands, but he won’t listen. That’s just how he is.”

Pike glanced at the tables, waiting to return to their places.

“Help with the tables?”

“That’s okay. I’ve got it.”

Pike nodded. He had done what he could, let her know she wouldn’t have any more trouble, and now there was nothing to do except see if Azzara was good at his word. They were finished, but, like the day before, Pike didn’t want to leave.

“You did a good job.”

“We won’t win any beauty prizes.”

Pike drifted past her to the counter, and saw that his phone number was tacked to the order board.

“Okay. You need anything, call.”

She said, “Ring.”

He turned back, and saw her smiling.

“That was me calling.”

She dropped the towel into the bucket, and appraised herself.

“I’m wet, hungry, and I smell like turpentine. I want a beer. How about we go have a beer? There’s a great little place right over here, the Sidewalk Cafe. How about it? My treat.”

Pike said, “Okay.”

The Sidewalk Cafe was everything Wilson’s tiny takeout shop wasn’t, with a large bar, indoor and outdoor seating, and a spectacular location on Ocean Front Walk. The outside area was already crowded with regulars come to enjoy the sunset, but the waitress recognized Dru and smiled them to a table. Joggers, skaters, tourists, and beach people flowed past on the sidewalk between the café and a row of vendors and performers. A manicured grass park, swaying palms, and a deep expanse of sand lay beyond. Directly across from their table, two street performers painted silver pretended to be mechanical men, locking and popping in unison. An open briefcase at their feet held a cardboard sign: CONTRIBUTIONS WELCOME.

Dru knew what she wanted and waved off the menu.