THAT LITTLE NAPKIN was a proverbial jackpot. From what I understood from Peter, he’d had to wrestle it away from his girl after the fact. It wasn’t that she probably really wanted it, but rather the fact that he was insisting she give it up that had her so annoyed. Peter was sort of like an overbearing father sometimes to his girls, and every so often they rebelled against him for it.
He won out, though, and if I had to guess, I would say that he told her a slice of the truth about the guy: he was into some bad s**t and he was probably going to die very soon.
When I got there—because I didn’t just want the napkin, I wanted to talk to the girl, too—I greeted Peter and asked his permission to talk to her. Apparently, her name was Kendall. He was hesitant, but gave the okay. I knew he’d be
