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“Look kid, the guy we work for wants to talk to Rodney. My name’s Willy and this here is Cheese. Whadaya say we take a little ride downtown?”
    The idea of a limo ride with these two seemed like the worst idea in the world.
    â€œSounds great,” Rishi said.
    â€œWhat?” I squeaked. “Listen, it looks like a nice car and all, but we prefer to walk. Nice day and besides—”
    â€œThat’s right,” Rishi cut in, “my clients are in training.” He motioned to Josh, who had finally caught up with us. “Josh, meet Mr. Cheese and Mr. Willy.”
    Josh yawned.
    Willy continued. “Anyway, you’s can walk then. Walk on down to Mama’s Restaurant. It’s under a mile away. No reason to be afraid—”
    â€œI ain’t afraid of nothin’!” Josh barked.
    â€œ Dis is da one I like,” Cheese said, pointing at Josh.
    â€œThat makes sense. He’s like a mini you.”
    â€œWho you callin’ mini?” Josh snapped, taking a few steps toward Willy.
    â€œThe Boss might want to talk to this one too.” Willy laughed. “We’ll see you at Mama’s. You know where it is?”
    â€œYes,” said Rishi, looking at his phone. “You can tell Mr. Boss we should be there in twenty minutes.”
    â€œIt’s not Mr. Boss. Boss isn’t his last name. He’s the boss, because he owns the restaurant, and he don’t like to be kept waiting, so make it quick.” The two of them climbed into the back of the limo and drove off. 
    What did they want with me? And who was this Boss? I had lots of questions but knew one thing for sure. No way was I heading to this meeting. I went to take the left toward home.
    â€œWhere are you going, Rodney?” Rishi asked.
    â€œHome.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? We have a business meeting in fifteen minutes. I told you my hard work would start to pay off. One of the town’s big shots wants to meet you. He must be important if he’s called Mr. Boss.”
    â€œLook Rishi, something feels a bit strange about these guys. I have homework and my parents will expect me . . .”
    â€œNo they won’t. I just texted your father that you’re eating over my house. This, Rodney, is called opportunity. And what kind of friend, what kind of agent, would I be if I let you take the turn toward home? What do you think, Josh?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œSee? He understands. Now, let’s go.” And of course, against my better judgment, I followed.

    As we rounded onto the main street in town Rishi shouted, “Look, there it is.” He pointed to a building with a green awning over a white-tile entranceway. Above the awning was an unlit neon sign that read, mama’s . In the window was another sign: opening soon . It was only when we got closer that I noticed a smaller sentence below: and you’s better show up .
    I glanced up and down the street hoping to spot a convenient police car. The only car was the black limo parked in front. I could hear its engine rattling, cooling down. Otherwise, the street was empty. Second, third, and fourth thoughts swept my mind but before I had a chance to voice them, Rishi and Josh walked into the restaurant. Once again, I had no choice but to follow.
    Inside it was dark. A few beams of daylight shined in through the slats of thick wood blinds. A couple of green lights hung above a wood bar that ran the length of one side. Twenty or so tables dotted the room. I noticed a bartender with rolled up sleeves and a bald guy with some gray hair above his ears and heavy, black-framed glasses. He wore a jogging suit and sat at a table writing something in a big book. Besides them, the room was empty.
    â€œHere we are,” Rishi announced.
    â€œYou Rodney?” asked the guy at the table.
    â€œNo, I’m his manager.”
    â€œWell the Boss only wants to talk to Rodney.” He looked at Josh and me and asked