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ordered a double vodka, no cranberry juice, and saw their
reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The brunette met his eyes
in the mirror, and he didn’t turn away. Ten minutes later, she
sauntered over and took a seat on the stool that Todd had been
occupying.
“Not feeling social tonight?” the brunette asked.
“I’m not good at small talk.”
The brunette seemed to consider this. “I’m Amber,” she said.
“Kevin,” he replied, and again, he didn’t know what to say. He
took a drink, thinking it tasted almost like water.
The brunette leaned toward him. She smelled musky, not like
lemon and mint. “Todd says that the two of you work homicide.”
“We do.”
“Is that hard?”
“Sometimes,” he said. He finished his drink and raised the glass.
The bartender brought another over. “What do you do?”
“I’m an office manager at my brother’s bakery. He makes rolls and
bread products for restaurants.”
“That sounds interesting.”
She gave a cynical smile. “No, it doesn’t. And it’s not, but it pays
the bills.” Her teeth flashed white in the gloom. “I haven’t seen
you here before.”
“Todd brought me.”
She nodded in Todd’s direction. “Him, I’ve seen. He hits on
anything in a skirt who’s still breathing. And I think the breathing
part is optional. My friend loves it here, but usually I can’t stand
the place. She makes me come with her.”