A short time later, they were seated in a booth with faded red plastic benches with cracked and peeling cushions. The table itself was riddled with scratches and scribblings such as Pete plus Erin.
Chad glanced up from his stained menu. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here.”
“It’s been a while,” Jack admitted. He set his menu down and took a sip from the surprisingly good coffee. “If you like pastrami, the sandwich is good.”
Chad wrinkled his nose. “No, thanks.”
Jack laughed. “Well, that’s what I’m having.”
The other man grimaced and continued to study the menu. “How’s the chili?”
“Not bad as I recall.”
The waitress came by and they ordered.
“So,” Jack said after a minute. “Why don’t you tell me about your childhood?”
“My childhood? Is this part of the police interrogation?”
“No. I
