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“Yeah.”

“How are the snackle boxes going?” I asked, turning to her.

She shrugged. “Slowing down a little bit.”

I nodded at the table. “What about doing something like this?”

She twisted her lips. “Hmm. Do you think people would buy it?” she asked. “Like if I did small boxes or party platters?”

“Oh yeah. I’d buy it.”

She studied the table. “This actually looks like fun. I’ll add it to the rotation. I made a goal of earning an extra hundred dollars a day for the next three months.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How’s it going?”

“Not great,” she admitted. “I need more hours in the day.”

I studied her studying the table.

I wished Mike helped her with this stuff. I didn’t think she’d take money from him—she was too independent for that—but he could encourage her. Help her figure out what she wanted to do, help her do it.

She’d been staying at his house three to four times a week for the last month. Mike was in heaven, it was all he could talk about.

We migrated back to the group. Jesse got her a piña colada and I’d just finished my food and tossed the plate when I heard the sound of an electric wheelchair. I knew exactly what this meant. My first instinct was to dive in front of Larissa, but Mike whipped her out of the way first with mere seconds to spare.

Grandpa slammed to a halt in the middle of our group, his oxygen tank on the back of his wheelchair.

“Grandpa,” Mike said. “I wondered when you were gonna slow down enough for me to say hi.”

“Shut up and give me a cigarette,” he snapped.

I snorted.

Grandpa scowled at me. “You better be laughing because you have my Marlboros.”

“I do not have your Marlboros, but it’s nice to see you,” I said.

Mike crouched down in front of him. Then he pulled a pack from his shirt pocket. “I got you right here, old man.”

“Mike, he’s on oxygen,” Larissa whispered.

“Everyone does it,” Jesse said. “It’s safer when he’s smoking because no one gets run over.”

Mike stood. “I gotta get a lighter. I’ll be right back, then sneak you off to the gazebo.” He winked at him.

He left and Grandpa turned his attention squarely on Larissa. “Who the hell are you?”

She smiled at him. “Larissa. Nice to meet you.”

“You Chris’s girlfriend?”

“No. I’m with Mike,” she said.

“Then why are you and the drug dealer wearing the same uniform?”

She choked.

“I’m a drug dealer now?” I asked, amused.