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Hard enough that the bottle clinks against the bar.
The laughter dies instantly.
Respect.
Always.
—
The street outside Emma’s house is quiet.
Dark.
Still.
My bike idles low as I stop half a block down.
The house sits exactly where it should.
Lights off.
Porch empty.
Two prospects sit in a parked car across the street.
One standing guard near the corner.
Exactly where I told them to be.
The second they spot me, they straighten immediately.
Respect.
Always.
I nod once.
They nod back.
Everything looks right.
Everything looks secure.
But I sit there another minute anyway.
Just watching the house.
Making sure.
My eyes scan the street.
Windows.
Cars.
Shadows.
Movement.
