I grabbed Michael's wrist. "You must be joking."
"Hey, H-H-Helen, I've got to make sure it's not Monopoly money, right? I'll be in the men's room."
"So you can climb out the window with her money?"
"You've been watching too many movies." But he covered my hand with his left. "I'll let you come with me and watch."
Oh, God. This was where I needed the Y chromosome and a lot more muscle. "You're not going anywhere." I knew how ridiculous that sounded. One of my best friends once described my build as twig-like. I hung on, acutely conscious of how thick his wrist was, covered in coarse black hair. He wasn't huge, but he was much bigger than me. And I had no right to touch him. If Mike backhanded me, would he be able to claim self-defense?
Mrs. Lee stood up, but there was no way I'd let an old lady break her hip on this. Show of force. I met Mike's eye and said, with as much authority as I could muster, "Count it here."
He laughed aloud. "Who's going to make me? You?"
A Goth girl shuffled by en route to the bathroom. For a crazy second, I thought I could call on her to back me up as needed. But she just dropped her paper coffee cup on the table beside us, pale face averted and shaded by her long, dyed-black hair. No help there.
I yanked his wrist forward. He laughed, breaking my grip easily. But with my left hand, I plucked the envelope from his back pocket.
It was thick, neatly sealed, heavy with money.
"Hey!" Mike snatched my wrist, hard enough to grind my radius and ulna together. Teeth gritted, I snapped at the envelope with my free right hand, but he imprisoned that wrist, too.
Mrs. Lee seized the envelope, startling both of us.
Mike dropped my wrists and turned on her, but hesitated. The whole café was watching. The waitress and another clerk stood behind the counter, undecided, but the couple, the studious girl, and a gaggle of teenagers stared at us.
"Just fooling around, folks," Mike said, with a cheery wave.
Everyone watched Mrs. Lee tuck the envelope back in her purse. She nodded and waved everyone away, then took her seat and primly crossed her legs, as if nothing had happened.
Gradually, conversation resumed with a few glances our way. I refused to rub my wrists, even though the left one hurt especially.
"What's the deal?" Mike said to Mrs. Lee through a smile that almost looked genuine. "You want to know about your daughter? Or you just want to play 'pass the envelope'?"
"I'll give you some money now," she said. "You can count it in front of both of us. But if you think you can just take our money and run, you must think me a fool."
"Hey, you're the one who contacted me." He spread his arms out and raised his voice. "I didn't come looking for you. And, like I said, other people are asking. I'm a popular guy."
Mrs. Lee didn't stir from her seat. After a slight pause, she asked, "How much are those people paying you?"
"We haven't set a price yet."
"I'll give you fifty dollars right now, before you tell me anything. For every useful piece of information, I'll give you another twenty."
He blew his breath out between his lips. "No way, Grandma."
"Do you know so little?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
They stared at each other. Mike and I were both still standing. Only Mrs. Lee sat, seemingly serene. She sipped her coffee.
Finally, he sank back in his seat. "A hundred up front, fifty per tip. If you're too stingy with the $50's, I'll stop talking."
Mrs. Lee nodded, and pulled the envelope and a silver letter opener out of her purse. With great ceremony, she slit the side of the envelope open.