“I finished that one weeks ago.”
“I can’t keep up with you.” Lance sighed. “Stuff just gets in the way. You know how it goes.”
“I do.” And I understood it completely. People got busy. “You were in Pasadena last week weren’t you?”
He sighed. “Yeah. I couldn’t turn down the job. I swear, I’ve been getting more jobs doing patchwork on systems than the web design I went to school for.”
“Patchwork?”
“Yeah. Hackers are finding new ways to dig into websites and scrape data. Stealing identities is chump change for some hackers, but it’s still decent money on the dark web.”
“Greek to me.” But the idea of it felt closer now that it happened to someone I love. While it wasn’t quite the same, a thief was a thief as far as I was concerned.
“Greek to most people thankfully, but it’s dangerous enough that I can ask emergency fees. I can finally breathe for a fewweeks. I’m ahead with my mortgage and paid off one of my school loans.”
“That’s awesome. I didn’t realize that was what you did. I thought you were doing apps and websites.”
“I backed into it.” He flipped his cap around as Romeo came back out with our food. “You don’t want to hear about this.”
“Hear about what?” Romeo asked as he set an overflowing plate in front of each of us. Pesto and cheese melted into the bread and the scent of spicy ham made my mouth water.
“Lance’s prowess on the computer,” I said around the bite of a pickle chip.
Romeo made a face. “I only turn on my computer to do my expenses.”
I laughed. “I have to agree. The only tech things I do are post on social media for work.”
“Bah. I make Calliope do that. That’s why we want to hire you again. She says we need to spruce up our look. But eat first and then we’ll talk about that.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I snaked a roasted red pepper out of my overflowing sandwich. “Amazing as always.”
“Enjoy.” He waved to someone walking through the door and hustled off to greet the customer.
I glanced over my shoulder and spotted our mother. “Crap.”
Lance craned his neck and sighed.
“What’s she doing here?” I whispered.
“You really are out of the loop. Did you forget what month it is?”
I shrank down in my chair. It was playoff season, which was volatile enough, but it was also Keaton’s birthday at the end of the month. My mother always made a huge deal about it.
Romeo pointed to us and she gave us a distracted wave.
“Keaton loves your Holy Roller. I’d like to order five of those, as well as all the extras. Your antipasto to feed ten. Two of yourDivine Italian mix twelve foot subs, and”—she trailed off as she looked at the menu—“a tray of your pesto chicken with a mix of bread.”
“Can do.” Romeo scribbled on his old school ticket pad. “When do you want these?”
“Last Sunday of the month if that’s possible.”
He nodded. “Feeding the team?”
She laughed. “A few of his old teammates are coming into town for his birthday. I want to make sure they’re well fed.”
I leaned forward, dropping my voice. “Think any of that food is for us?”
“Hey, Ma. Don’t forget the rest of us,” Lance called out.
