On Monday morning, Rita and I pulled into Sterling Motors at ten o'clock.

I was wearing exactly what I'd worn on Saturday. Brown work shorts. Steel-toe boots. The faded orange Callahan Freight polo. Washed, this time.

Rita was wearing a navy suit and carrying a thick folder.

They'd rolled out a red carpet. An actual red carpet, from the parking lot to the front doors. There were balloons. A banner in the window said WELCOME, CALLAHAN FREIGHT!

Inside, on a table, there was champagne in an ice bucket and a tray of little pastries.

Brent and Courtney were waiting by the door. Brent was in a new suit. Courtney had her hair done.

They saw Rita first.

“Ms. Morgan!” said Brent, rushing forward with his hand out. “Wonderful to finally meet you! Welcome, welcome! Is Mr. Callahan parking the car?”

Then he saw me, standing beside her.

His hand stopped in mid-air.

“You again?” he said, and his voice went sharp. “Sir, I told you on Saturday. This is a private event. We've got a very important client coming in this morning. You need to leave.” Behind him, Courtney had gone very still.

She was looking at the name on my shirt pocket.