“Ribeye, please,” Raylan says. “Bloody, with a baked potato.” “I’ll have the chicken and capers,” Nick says virtuously. He hands his menu to the waiter and winks at me. “I plan to live past a hundred.” “I’ll trade a decade or two for steak,” Raylan says, totally unconcerned. I can’t help smiling a little. “I’ll have the ribeye, too.” Nick looks betrayed.
