“What? Are you serious?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Trust me.”

They paid their bill, got in the Explorer, and drove away from the lake for fifteen minutes before turning into the parking lot of what looked like a warehouse. A number of cars, not terribly nice ones, were parked around the building.

“What’s this?” Leslie asked.

“You’ll see.”

They got out and went into the structure, which wasn’t a warehouse at all but rather an arena of sorts, complete with artificial turf on the floor. On the “field” were twelve young men, mostly Hispanic, playing soccer. Sitting in bleachers three rows high were a collection of women and children and elderly people, alternating between watching the game and watching the kids.