Francis smiled as they stepped out. “Sugar, you oughta tell Rowan about that dream woman—she’d make it one hell of a story. Did she have a name?”

  David nodded before he even thought. “Yeah—Morgana. She never said it. I just… knew.”

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh darlin’, you definitely need to tell Rowan. After tonight, I got a feelin’ you’ll be sittin’ in on the next meetin’.”

  David chuckled. “Wouldn’t bet on that horse—you’ll lose.”

  He held the door open for her.

  “Why, thank you, darlin’,” she said, breezing past him.

  Maria’s Cantina had long been the neighborhood escape—where David and his friends drank, talked, and shook off the week.

  A glass wall opened onto the patio, commanding David’s attention. In front of it, chains of glass disks swayed in the breeze, scattering multicolored light through the space.

  David turned to Francis; her face glowed purple in the fractured light. “I can’t wait until it cools off again. I’d rather be out on the patio.”

  Francis laughed. “Right now it’s hot enough to bake a dozen cookies.”

  She glanced back toward the patio, the shifting light painting her face green. “I agree with you, sugar. I enjoy the winter breeze more than the air conditioning. Plus, sittin’ in here makes me even more hungry.”

  The smell of grilled meat made his stomach growl. “Yeah, me too.” He could taste the carne asada tacos, his mouth watering.

  They wove between crowded tables of Spanish-speaking patrons, heading toward the back where Chris sat with a woman David didn’t recognize.

  Chris spotted them and slid out from the booth. “Hola, chica.”

  He pulled David into a firm embrace. “Lo siento—those cabrones don’t know what they gave up.”

  David returned the hug. “I’m pretty sure they don’t care either way. Corporate games and numbers are all that matter.”

  Chris shrugged. “Their loss.”

  Francis came around, and Chris drew her close under his arm, giving her a squeeze but keeping his eyes on David. “We’re workin’ every angle to help you out, chica. You ain’t alone in this.”

  David swallowed hard. “Thank you, Chris.”

  Chris gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m already askin’ mi jefe if he can find somethin’ for ya. Won’t be fancy, but it’ll help with the bills.”

  Francis tilted her head up at him, eyes warm. “Aww, darlin’, you’re such a sweetie.” She leaned into his side, all affection.

  Watching them together eased the sting in David’s eyes. He rubbed them and tried to smile. “I’ll be okay for a bit with severance. But the house…” His face fell. “I don’t know how I’m gonna pull that off.”

  “We’ll figure it out, chica. No están solo in this.”

  Chris stepped aside for Francis to slip into the booth, sliding in right after her, arm still curled around her like a shield.

  Francis waved a hand toward the small-framed woman sitting across from her and Chris. “Raven, this is Rowan.”

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  The newcomer slid out from the booth to greet David. She smoothed the front of her ASU polo, sharp eyes sparking with curiosity as she offered her hand in a quick, sparrow-like motion.

  David shook her hand. “Good to meet you too, Rowan.”

  He gestured toward the heavy booth. “After you.”

  She slid back into her seat, and he followed, settling in beside her.

  Once they settled, David glanced between her and Francis. “So, how do you two know each other?”

  Rowan’s smile widened. “Through the trans group Francis runs. She’s been, like, the best. Seriously.”

  Her smile faltered. “I caught some flack from my family when I came out, and I didn’t know where to turn.”

  Her eyes brightened as she turned toward Francis. “I found her website and reached out. It was like she could read my mind…”

  She looked back to David. “She knew how I was feeling and knew exactly what to say to make me feel better.”

  David nodded. “Yeah, it’s uncanny how she does it.”

  Rowan shot Francis a quick smile. “It’s a gift or something.”

  Francis laughed softly and patted Rowan’s hand on the table. “Y’all are family now—’specially when your own turn their backs.”

  Rowan gave Francis a warm smile, then turned to David. Her expression softened, empathy shining in her eyes. “I work there as well. Francis told me what happened. I’m so sorry.”

  Chris leaned forward, face straight and grim. “I heard… muchos hombres got the boot. Times are tough, chica.”

  David sighed. “Yeah, there was an announcement a few months ago, but nobody knew how bad it would be.” He shook his head. “I’d guess four hundred people, maybe more.”

  Francis twisted a napkin around her index finger. “These days folks worry more about keepin’ their homes. Whole neighborhoods are turnin’ up empty, banks snappin’ up the houses.”

  David added, "The banks are losing money hand over fist."

  Chris grunted. “They got what’s comin’ to ’em.”

  Francis’s eyes flashed. “And the families? Did they get what they deserved too? Where do they live now—with kids in tow? How does a parent tell a child their home is gone, that now they’ll sleep in a dingy apartment—or worse, in the car?”

  Chris waved a hand in a downward sweep. “Tranquilo, mi amor. Rough for them, sure, but they swallowed the crap the bank fed ’em.” He took a sip of beer. “Still, I hope those fat bastards go hungry this year.”

  Rowan set down her wine. “It won’t be them who lose out.”

  David’s brow lifted. “You survived the cuts?”

  “Thankfully. But it’s still going on—I saw managers walked out today.”

  David gave a weak smile. “I’m glad you survived.”

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes flicking down. “I was spared ’cause I’m the only one who handles the process docs. Not glamorous, but it keeps me in the building.”

  Francis gave David’s hand a quick squeeze. "Sugar, don't worry about that terrible place. Their troubles are not yours now."

  Rowan spun her glass around by the stem. "I heard the remaining managers arguing over how they're going to run the shifts. There's like, no one to run the floor now."

  David gave Francis a weak smile of gratitude. "Now they've gone after the managers too?"

  Rowan nodded. "Yeah, I saw a group of ’em get walked just yesterday."

  "Do you know who Ben Markson is?"

  Rowan thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, he’s come to my desk a time or two."

  David’s brow furrowed. "Was he one of the managers you saw get walked?"

  Rowan fiddled with her wine glass, then said carefully, "Yeah—I saw Ben get walked with the others."

  David’s jaw tightened, his voice dropping low. “You’re right, but that felt damn good.”

  Francis’s lips pressed tight, her hand closed into a fist. She didn’t speak, but the disapproval in her eyes was plain.

  Chris roared with laughter, smacking the table hard enough to rattle Rowan’s glass. She flinched at the crack but caught it before it tipped. A few heads turned, music faltering in the background hum, as he exclaimed, “That’s rich!”

  Francis’s scowl reined him back, and he lifted a hand in mock surrender. “Alright, enough heavy talk. The rounds are on us, chica. You’re not payin’ for a thing tonight.”

  Chris rapped the table with a playful grin. “Remember this when you land the next job—’cause you’re buyin’.”

  David laughed, the knot in his shoulders loosening since he got his papers. “Deal. I won’t forget.”

  A young server in her twenties approached with a notepad, smiling nervously. The echoes of Chris’s outburst still drew glances from nearby tables, and the clink of glasses filled the pause. “Can I get you folks something to drink?”

  They placed their orders, and she hurried off toward the bar, stealing one last glance over her shoulder.

  David watched her go, then turned to Rowan. “Francis tells me you can interpret dreams.”

  Rowan’s fingers traced the rim of her glass before she leaned in slightly, curiosity warming her piercing eyes. “She mentioned you’ve had some dreams that keep repeating.”

  David nodded, his face tight. “Yeah. They’ve been freakin’ me out—I wake up in a cold sweat every time.”

  He paused, exhaustion dragging at his shoulders. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore—I was so tired, I barely got through the shift.”