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that read, We’ll Give You Crabs!
    “Nice shirt, Owen.” I rolled my eyes. “Does your boss know you’re wearing that?”
    “Course he does,” he grinned. “He had ’em made for us! Hey, thanks for picking me up. Ade has been so tired with this pregnancy, and I’m sure she’s still sound asleep. Oh, did I tell you? I’m going after work today to pick up a crib and a travel system that I ordered. Ade’s going to love them!”
    “Owen, where are you going to put all this stuff? Your new apartment isn’t that big. Don’t you think you should wait until closer to when the baby is going to be born?” I turned onto Beacon Street and headed for Kenmore Square. Even at this hour, Boston traffic sucked. I forced myself to stop at a yellow light and not block the intersection. My reward was a slew of horn honking from the cars behind me. “And what the hell is a ‘travel system,’ anyway? Where are you planning on going with this kid?”
    “Well, the stuff was on sale, so I wanted to buy it now. And a travel system is this cool stroller that comes with an infant car seat you can plunk right into the stroller. It also has a base that you strap into the car, and then you can just pop the seat in and out without having to worry about the buckle. So when the baby falls asleep in the car, we can just keep it in the seat and plop it in the stroller. Cool, huh?”
    “Very cool,” I agreed, impressed with Owen’s knowledge of baby paraphernalia.
    When we neared Newbury Street, I asked Owen whether I could just pull onto one of the side streets near Simmer and leave him to walk down the alley to his truck. I wasn’t crazy about weaving my relatively new car around Dumpsters and subjecting the tires to broken glass and crumbling pavement.
    “I thought you wanted to see my truck,” Owen said pathetically.
    “Oh, right. Of course I do.” I nodded with all the excitement I could muster at this hour.
    Owen showed me where to turn to reach the back entrance to Simmer and the other Newbury Street businesses. Most of the buildings in this part of town were beautiful old brownstones and converted town houses, many with large bay windows that displayed high-end products. But behind the glamorous storefronts and equally glamorous stores, the alleys were the same trash-filled back streets you’d find in any other part of Boston. As I eased my car down the alley, I kept an eye out for anything that might puncture a tire.
    I knew Simmer from the front, but the alley robbed me of my sense of direction. “Which one is Simmer’s door?” I took my eyes off the pavement for a moment to glance around.
    “Right there! Right there! See my truck?” Owen pointed excitedly at a white pickup truck. “Just pull over in front of me,” he said, leaping out the door before I’d even shifted into park.
    I got out and took a look at what was apparently the most thrilling truck of all time. It was just as Owen had described it last night: a white pickup with a white box unit the size of a small shed set in the bed of the truck.
    “See? That’s the refrigeration unit. Can you even imagine how much fish that could hold? I could make millions!”
    The refrigeration box occupied the entire truck bed and rose above the cab of the pickup. “You’re not going to fill that thing up on your deliveries, are you?”
    “Well, no,” Owen admitted. “Not yet. But I’m just saying...”
    “It’s very cool. You were right. I like the logo on the side there.” The Daily Catch was scripted in red paint and surrounded by sea creatures done in black.
    “I’m going to get it done on the box, too. Want to see the inside?”
    “Um, sure.”
    Owen was about to open the back door to the truck when a raspy voice rang out. “Hey, guys! What’s up?”
    I turned around to see Snacker at the top of Simmer’s back steps. He was propping open a heavy steel door. “Hi, Snack,” I called. I could tell Snacker was as tired as Josh, but even severe fatigue