“Sure, you should come along,” Vincent replies.

Still, Slade doesn’t utter a word. I turn to him, waiting for his acceptance.

“Not up to me.” He shrugs. “You should come if you want. Don’t come if you don’t want.”

I lick my lips, deciding that Slade is right. I was invited by Eve. I don’t need his permission or anyone else’s but my own. “Okay, yeah, I’d love to come. Why not?” I turn my eyes back to Slade. “I’ll be there.”

A small smile fills his lips as Eve claps her hands together.

The waitress strolls over, pulling out her small pad and a pen. With skin the color of clay and lines around her sunken brown eyes, she looks exhausted. “What would y’all like?” Her smile is forced.

I’d guess she is in her mid-forties, but then again, living in LA, it’s safe to say my age timeline has gotten skewed. With all the plastic surgery, strict diets, and workout fanatics, it’s gotten hard to tell who belongs to what age group. My own mother looks forty when, in actuality, she’s in her mid-fifties.

Slade lifts a hand in greeting. “Hey, Candy. How’s Jim? Hope he’s doing better.”

She shrugs as her features darken. “He’s all right. Still catching those damn dizzy spells.”

“Is it vertigo?”

“Yep. He isn’t able to work right now either. I’m taking on more shifts.”

“Ah, shit.” Slade presses his lips together in a thin line. “I think I know someone who does acupuncture out here, off the rez. I hear that helps.” He lifts his phone and begins to scroll. A few moments later, he finds what he’s looking for. “Ready?”

She flips to a fresh page on her small pad, writing as Slade spouts off a number.

“It’s Dr. Shcherbakov. He’s helped a few friends of mine for other things.”

Her eyes fill with thankful tears. “Got it. Thank you, Slade.”

“Lauren?” His eyes, slightly shadowed, flit between the menu and me, silently telling me to order first.

I clear my throat, looking up at Candy. “What salads do you like? It’s my first time here, so I’m open to any suggestions.”

“The chicken Caesar is pretty good,” she says slowly, moving her pad to a fresh page. “Had it just last night, too. It’s a favorite.”

Finding it on the menu, I do a quick skim of the ingredients. “Perfect. But would you mind holding the anchovies and keeping the dressing on the side?”

“Sure thing.”

I hand her my menu.

Vincent pipes up next, ordering salmon with a mixed green salad for Eve and an eight-ounce steak with steamed veggies for himself.

I tell Eve, “Oh, that sounds good!” Turning back to Candy, I ask, “Can you swap my chicken for salmon?”

She nods as she writes. “And you, handsome?”

Slade scratches the back of his neck. “Burger, whole wheat bun. No cheese or onion. Baked sweet potato, dry. Let’s also get steamed Brussels sprouts and spinach.”

“Got it.” With a grateful smile, she steps away.