“Ah, a single mom.” Bob smiled broadly. “I can offer her security. I’m a public servant, it’s almost impossible to fire me. And…” Bob slid his hand into the pocket of his cashmere coat and tossed a small rectangular plastic package onto the bar.
Liza leaned forward reluctantly for a closer look. Made a face. “A condom?”
“Safe sex. This is the best money can buy.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re scared you’ll have a kid?”
Bob shrugged. “I’m scared of a premature ejaculation. And with that thing there my prick hardly feels a thing.”
Liza laughed out loud. And from her laughter he could tell she’d smoked her fair share of cigarettes. “Dammit, Bob, you really are cute.”
“Cute enough to let me buy you a cup of coffee someplace else?” Bob slid the condom back over to his side of the bar.
She shook her head. “Is that the way you usually do it?”
“Do what?”
“First the full-frontal assault, then the retreat, then the siege?”
Bob thought about that. “Yes. Does it work?”
“Sure. Just not on me.”
“Why not?”
Liza rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on,” said Bob, “I’m out of practice. I need a little constructive feedback here.”
Liza spotted a gesture from one of the other customers, an elderly man still wearing his overcoat. She picked up a glass and unscrewed the top of a vodka bottle. “Well, okay then. I couldn’t be less interested. You come in here, I’m the first woman you see, the first living being you see. You sat there for about five minutes before suggesting a fuck. A fuck to make up for the fact that your lady’s dumped you. Let’s say—hypothetically—that I’d been upfor it and you and me ended up in the same bed tonight. Does that really sound to you like the start of a quality relationship involving two quality people?”
“Ah, but…”
“But?”
“Isn’t quality in general a bit…uh, overrated?”
Liza looked at him and slowly shook her head. She licked her lips a couple of times.
“Then what do you mean by quality, Liza?”
Liza screwed the cap back on the vodka bottle. “Staying power.”
“Staying power? As in…?”
“No. As in, a man who sticks around.”
She placed her hands on the bar and Bob Oz met her eyes. Then she picked up the vodka glass, emerged from behind the bar and walked across to the old man sitting at his table. Bob watched her. She put the glass down in front of him and spoke to him as she picked up the crutch that had fallen to the floor and leaned it against the chair.
The phone in the inside pocket of his coat began to vibrate.
He took it out, saw that the caller was Superintendent Walker. He hesitated before taking the call.
As expected, Walker sounded pretty pissed off. “Where the hell are you, Oz?”
“Dinkytown, Chief.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
