The Regulars

Saint Jude's Coffee opens at seven. By eight, nobody's leaving. Every Tuesday and Friday at 8:20, a white bakery box tied with string leaves Saint Jude's in a uniformed cop's hands. It has never once held pastry. This Tuesday, four regulars have come for it. A father with his daughter's school photo in his pocket and four words on the back in a stranger's handwriting. A woman who signed the wrong loan and polished her boots at midnight. A big man, nine years out, who swore he was only going to look. And a wiry little guy in a dead pizzeria's delivery jacket, carrying a flower box and Joey's last seven words. Four strangers. Four guns. One box. Not one of them planned for the other three. None of them planned for Lydia, either: the barista who watched them circle for a week, saw them coming one by one, and stayed anyway. Now the door is locked, a dirty cop is bleeding on the floor, and the hostage negotiator outside knows half of what's happening inside. The four strangers know the other half. So does Lydia. The Regulars is a darkly funny, tightly wound crime novel about lost causes, bad plans, and the worst morning a coffee shop ever had.