I laugh at her smart-ass remark. But Griffin’s expression is solemn as a tombstone.

“You let me know if she comes in,” he repeats. “You still got my cell?”

Doc gives him a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sure do.”

For a few seconds, he stares at her in a way that almost feels like an unspoken threat.

But then he turns back to me, once again becoming a laid-back rock star. “Fairgood’s brought you into his world. You’re going to hear some stuff. People talk a lot of shit behind his back. But don't believe the rumors. He's good people.”

“What rumors?” I ask, now wanting to know about that even more than his last name.

Griffin just grins, then snags a topless waitress around the waist and says, “Hey, baby, how you doing?”

“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re Griffin Latham.”

Same as me.

“Sure am,” he answers. And that’s the last thing I hear the country trap star say before he disappears into the crowd with her.

I immediately swivel on the stool to ask Doc, “Griffin Latham is a Ruthless Reaper?”

“I mean, yeah, he used to be one of those fools,” Doc answers. She plucks a fry off my plate. “The rumor is that his rich dad got sick of him wilding out and put him in charge of a music label. So now he's trying to walk the straight and narrow. But he still tours during the summer, and the Reapers act as his security force. Anyway, he always comes through when he has a show nearby.”

“And how about this Red he was asking about? Who is she?”

Doc snitches another fry off my plate. “Somebody who used to work here. But she made it out of this place, and she’s never coming back. He just refuses to accept that.”

I eye Doc as I stuff a few of the fries in my mouth myself. They’re a little cold but hit my tongue like a long overdue, salty gift. And the cheeseburger did me the favor of staying totally warm and delicious. I gratefully accept the tall glass of Coke Doc sets in front of me in a beer stein and pretty much forget about all my questions as I inhale the first meal I've had since this morning.

But after I house all the fries and most of the burger, my curiosity about her spikes again.

“Are you trying to get out of here, too?” I ask.

“Not trying,” Doc counters. “One more semester of med school, and I'm done with this place.”

I raise my eyebrows just like she did when she discovered me wearing her scrubs. “So that's why they call you Doc. I'm a nurse in real life.”

Doc squints at me. “I was born into this. But what's a nurse doing with Waylon of all people?”