CHAPTER 52
Daryl Mayweather was sitting at a booth by the window, nursing a cup of coffee, when Powell walked into Tops Coffee Shop on Market. Back when Powell was on the force and he and Mayweather were working graveyard, they had rolled to the diner every morning after their shift. It was a tradition, a place where they celebrated surviving another night on the street. As he slid into the booth across from his old partner, the only one he ever really trusted, Powell felt the tug of the life.
A tiny Asian waitress came up to the table.
“Coffee?” she asked with a smile.
“That’d be great, thanks,” Powell said.
Daryl looked around the diner. “Almost like the old days, eh, Bud?” he said with a nostalgic smile.
Powell nodded.
“You ever miss it?”
“Yeah, sometimes, but then I see you and
