"You better circle back," I said.

"Oh," Win said, his voice kid-on-Christmas-morning happy, "goodie, goodie."

"How long will it take?"

"I'm just down the street. I suspected something like this might occur."

"Don't shoot anyone," I said.

"Yes, Mother."

My car was parked near the back of the lot. The Expedition followed slowly. The drizzle picked up a bit. I wondered what their plan was-something moronically macho, no doubt-and decided to just play it as it lays.

Win's Jag appeared and waited in the distance. I drive a Ford Taurus, aka The Chick Trawler. Win hates my car. He won't sit in it. I took out my keys and hit the remote. The car made that little ding noise and unlocked. I slipped inside. The Expedition made its big move then. It raced forward and stopped directly behind the Taurus, blocking me in. Coach Bobby jumped out first, petting his goatee. His two buddies followed.

I sighed and watched their approach in my rearview mirror.

"Something I can do for you?" I said.

"Heard your girl chewing you out," he said.

"Eavesdropping is considered rude, Coach Bobby."

"I figured maybe you'd change your mind and wouldn't show. So I thought we could settle this now. Right here."

Coach Bobby leaned his face right into mine.

"Unless you're chicken."

I said, "Did you have tuna for lunch?"

Win's Jaguar pulled up next to the Expedition. Coach Bobby took a step back and narrowed his eyes. Win got out. The four men looked at him and frowned.

"Who the hell is he?"

Win smiled and raised his hand as if he'd just been introduced on a talk show and wanted to acknowledge the applause of the studio audience. "Nice to be here," he said. "Thank you very much."

"He's a friend," I said. "Here to even up the odds."

"Him?" Bobby laughed. His chorus joined in. "Oh yeah, sure."