“What can I get you?” Hunter yelled over the noise as I squeezed into a free spot at a corner booth.
“Some peace and quiet would be nice. But seeing that’s unlikely, a Coke will do.”
A mid-twenty-something with a double nose-piercing leered at me. I quickly choked out, “And spike it with bourbon!”
Hunter chuckled and left, and I studiously avoided eye contact with anyone. Taking out my notebook, I sketched a few ideas for my environmental angle, and when my phone beeped, I took it out and read the new e-mail from Mom:
Liam,
I don’t want to disturb you, love, but a couple of things:
What are your plans for Thanksgiving? I have been asked to work that day, which would be great for getting in the good books with this new job, but I wanted to make sure that you’d be okay with it?
We have a new neighbor here. Every morning at seven he walks his Persian cat by our house and waves. I think I shall introduce myself to him.
Look forward to hearing from you,
Mom
I quickly wrote back:
Mom,
I have plans for the weekend, so no problem.
Introduce yourself. Tell me the details.
Liam
Hunter bumped his chair against mine and snagged my notebook from the table. “I’m confiscating this until our bro-date is over.” He slid it down one side of his chair. “Drinks are on the way.”
I glanced toward the bar. Mitch was at the far end, wearing a net T-shirt and thick eyeliner; his skin glowed the same red as his hair in the orange lights above him. “Did you get to talk?”
“Not yet, he said he’d come over soon.”
At that precise moment, as Mitch filled a glass with ice, he looked across the room toward us.
Hunter shot him a wink, and Mitch fumbled with the glass, ice scattering over the counter. “He’s adorable,” Hunter murmured. He focused back on me, his lips curving downward at the edges. “I had another chat with Jill today.”
“You did?”
“Caught him hunched over a book at the base of a tree by the cathedral.”
