Chapter 38
MOST OF the night’s dinner crowd arrived at Jack’s a little early, tight knots of people grabbing the best tables, and the remainder the best they could find. Woodward held his court in the large booth with the red vinyl seats in the back corner. I watched out of the corner of my eye. Woodward deliberately ignored us when Alice, Ceren, and I walked past and claimed a wobbly wooden table meant for two beneath one of the less obnoxious neon beer signs.
Ceren casually reached back and snagged an unused chair from the next table over.
“Just so I understand,” I said.
Ceren sighed as only a teenager can sigh, loud, long, and smelling of the indescribable frustration of having to put up with i***t adults.
“I’m not a complete tool,” I said. “The place will work out okay?”
“I never
