“Career-wise,” Enzo said, homing in on me again, “it’s great for you. Plus, you’d be helping me out. My mother insisted we buy two tables. One would have been sufficient, but she wouldn’t listen to reason. Now she’s freaking out about filling them. She doesn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Monroe Langfield.” He waved a hand, as if I should know who he was talking about and understand. “It’s a whole thing. And the last thing I need is my mom teaming up with my girlfriend to kick my ass.” “Owen?”
