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Charlie
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FRIDAY STARTED OUT as usual. I slept in, had a shake for breakfast, played tennis with Abby, and arrived back home around two. As I was heading to my bedroom, I passed by my father, who seemed to be in very good spirits.
“How’s your day going?” he asked.
“Fine. You’re looking particularly chipper today.”
“It’s Friday and I’m taking the weekend off.”
“Oh. Good for you.” I almost made a comment about the mafia never taking a day off, but stopped myself. I still had my doubts, but knew it was pointless to keep stressing about it.
“Abby and I were thinking about having dinner at Chop’s Steakhouse tomorrow night. Would you like to join us?”
Chop’s was my favorite restaurant. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Thank you. I don’t work tomorrow, either.”
“I know. That
