Light piano, a British singer covering a classic song. John couldn’t help the smile that twisted his lips despite himself. Nunzio and his wife knew he was coming, and the music was a joke. But the spread of food set out on the table in front of them wasn’t; mozzarella, fresh tomatoes, and pasta. Paul had a grin on his face, sharing things with Sophie that lit up her face.

“O’course,” he said as he used his fork to expertly twirl his pasta, his eyes twinkling, “and she said he’s on the make.”

Sophie sat back against her chair, covering her mouth with her napkin. Lou, Paul’s wife of over fifty years, shaking her head. “That’s a lovely story,” Lou interrupted, rolling her eyes. “But Paulie, can we please?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Paul poured water from the pitcher, refilling all of their glasses and grinned. “He was a scumbag, you forgive me of course, but that’s the truth of it. He treated everybody like shit, and all of us, all of us who worked there? We knew it. Made me work for him because…”

John watched as Paul drummed his fingers on the table.

“They made it like a promotion, see? Like, here’s this prestige guy and more money and less on-the-floor work. But here’s the thing, and Johnny knows this, but I like the floor work. Talking to the kids, the parents, the young guys, the ladies. All the fans. All the families. The single people. Their stories and smiles on the faces when the Pals win, and the tears, sometimes when we lose. We’re family. Hearing them? Helping them? Keeps me young, eh Lou?”

Lou, bless, was blushing. God, he loved these two.

“So yeah. They took me off the floor, put me back to the guy. Such ‘fuckin agita. Scum. Pure scum. Shouldn’t be connected to my shoes, not even the Pals. Treated Rosie – she worked the bathroom – they treated her like shit. Treated Vin, the waiter, like shit. All of us was going to quit, right? But Tommy, Tommy the owner Tommy, Johnny you know?”

“Tom Lefkowitz—he’s the Palisades owner,” he whispered in Sophie’s ear.

She nodded, then turned back to Paul.

“So yeah, Tommy says you take three with the scumbag and one back to the floor like you like it. And I says no, so we worked it out so that I’m only with the scumbag for a third of the game.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well, when he started to make Vin and Rosie feel shitty, I talked to him. I says he needed to show my people respect. And when I went home, I told Lou I was gonna get fired.”

Lou smiled now. “I told him he was out of his mind, so,” she paused, and met Sophie’s eyes. “I’ve been in HR for a long time, first a secretary and then after I got my certificate, I got to work in the schools. Anyway,” she smiled, “I told him that if he really thought Mr. C was the kind of man who the owner would listen to, to write everything down he could remember. And keep writing.” She turned back to her husband. “When did you start?”

“I took notes before I told him I was quitting, so I went back and added stuff I remembered…ten years ago? Fifteen years ago? Then kept writing.”

“I need to hand over some of the files,” Sophie said, putting her glass down. “But I want you to come on my show and talk, if that’s okay? We’ll need obviously to plan around your work schedule, Paul, but…”

The look on Paul’s face was priceless. It was perfect. “I…it would be an honor to talk. To tell the truth.”

As her eyes brightened, the story clearly coming together, his heart started to slam against his chest. It was here, the moment he could walk away. Go back to the way his life was before; stand up for the fans, report on the Palisades, be a fan and be a good person. Not someone who was on the edge of insanity. He couldn’t take anything else. Not at all.

Later was never coming.

The realization hurt like hell, as did staring at John who stood there watching as she put the files in the trunk of her car.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Someone’ll get me back to my place.”

She wondered why he thought she’d worry, why he thought she’d focus on anything else other than getting the story done, now that she knew later wasn’t coming. “This is goodbye, then.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I gotta…”

“Get back to your real life. I get it. I know. Where you don’t have to look over your shoulder every five minutes. I get it.” She smiled. “I have a show to do, so…it was nice I guess?”

He nodded, and god it hurt. “Yeah. It was.”

And she couldn’t say something dumb like in another place and time, or if circumstances were different, because of course they weren’t. People every day wished the world was different and woke up with the awful penguin in DC every morning. Change looked possible, but nobody was there yet. Nothing was there yet.

But she had a story that could help. Again. And once she delivered it to the people who needed it most, she could tell it her way. That’s what she could do. That’s what she had to focus on, not a hot guy she wasn’t going to see ‘later’. And before she did something stupid, she smiled, waved, got into her car and drove away.