He stood with more effort than sitting had cost, the cane taking weight that his knees refused.
"The burger was good?"
"Best thing I've eaten in six weeks."
"Good. Come back. Bring the girl with the pink hair. Frankie said she looked strong."
"She is."
"Then she deserves a burger." He patted my shoulder with the two-fingered hand and walked back up the pier with the rolling gait of someone who had rebuilt an entire life on top of what a gate took from him. The cane tapped the planks. The gulls scattered and reformed. The old man with the fishing hat disappeared around the curve of the shack, and I heard Frankie's voice rise in greeting, and then I was alone on the bench with the ocean and the knowledge that Dominic Vale had known about the Divine Milking System since the day I sat down in his classroom.
I stood and walked to the car.
Vale pocketed his phone. "Good talk?"
"You knew."
"I know a lot of things. You'll have to be more relevant."
