The waiter took our orders, and we sat there, staring at each other. Finally I shook my head and said, “Good to meet you all. I’m (could I pass myself off as Roger? No, not even in an emergency) Lane, from Arizona. I teach…”
“Bible studies!” bellowed Bellow. “I knew it! I can tell a worthy Christian easy!”
Steve leaned in and patted my cheek. “And I’m his husband, Steve. I’m a deacon in the Catholic Church. We work with the little boys, you know,” he simpered. Oh. My. God. Not that God would want to be at this table, hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be at this table. I wondered if Sonia had her gun. We might need it.
At the table behind us, a little blond head popped up. I cringed. “Hi, mister! You sure have a big p***s!”
We will need it. Not for Jordan, for protection. The glares
