Chapter 3

“Ta da!” he said, shaking his hands to add flourish.

I offered him a beat to say more. When he let it lie there, I said, “You’re right, the Olive Garden is a better story.”

“At least there were breadsticks in yours.”

“Yeah, well…” I let him watch me run my eyes up and down his body. His gym membership might have been current, but then again, it takes a certain amount of strength to carry around a stomach the size of a prize-winning pumpkin. “I’ve got a feeling there might be a few breadsticks in your life story you’re not telling me about.”

He wasn’t much of a talker, but getting a laugh out of this guy was a piece of cake; he gave me another big one.

“Is ‘Sunflower’ really your last name?” I’d seen it on his ID the night before. Noticed it partly because it was incongruous on a big guy with three days’ worth of beard, partly because it somehow suited him anyway.