“Bill. Hi, we’re Cohen and Seth.” “If he pukes in my car—” “I’ll pay for the cleaning,” Cohen says. His eyes lock with mine. “Don’t throw up. I have no money.” The car jolts as the driver slams on his brakes. “That probably doesn’t help,” Cohen says. “And I’m kidding. I have money.” He looks down at me and mouths, “I don’t, but shh.”
