“Put in your earbuds,” Vero said.
“Why?”
“Just do it. I want to hear what Theo says.”
“No.” We had employed this tactic before, one of us taking point while the other secretly listened to a conversation, feeding information or questions through the earbuds until we got the information we needed out of a mark. The last time had been a disaster and we’d been caught in the act.
“I’ll be quiet,” Vero promised. “I’ll listen until I hear what kind of car he’s driving. Then I’ll look for his license plate while you settle the bar tab. It’ll save time.”
I refrained from reminding her that we wouldn’t be so pressed for time if she had simply stayed home. Then again, having Vero with us had definitely given us an advantage.
“Fine,” I said, “but only if you’re quiet.” I slipped my earbuds into place, pulling my hair down to cover them. As I entered the bar, I tucked my phone into my breast pocket.
I lingered by the door while I took in my surroundings. At least a dozen flat-screen TVs were perched on the walls, each one tuned to a different sporting event, featuring teams I didn’t know and sports I didn’t follow. Almost every booth and table was packed, mostly with men in jerseys or graphic tees. A few of them glanced up from their beers to watch or leer at me as I walked past their tables on my way toward the bar. Three bartenders were working behind it.
I clocked Theo immediately.
Just as Vero had predicted, his baseball cap sat backward on his head. The hair I could see was cut in a fade, and his short goateewas framed by a set of diamond ear studs. Theo was attractive, but I could also see why Vero didn’t seem to hold much of a candle for him. He was no more or less handsome than any other man in the room. His good looks didn’t stand out or command attention the way Javi’s did.
I sat on the empty stool closest to Theo, sneaking a glance over my shoulder as I set down my purse. Javi gave me a discreet nod as he entered the bar and claimed an empty table by the door. Ramón walked in a moment later and strolled right past him, settling onto a barstool a few seats down from mine. He reached for a plastic menu. If he saw the look of warning I shot him, he didn’t show it.
“What can I get you?” Theo asked me, raising his voice over the TVs as he wiped the bar top in front of me.
I skimmed the beer taps, picking the lightest draft I recognized. “I’ll have an Ultra, please. And a water,” I added, remembering that I wasn’t supposed to drink.
Theo smiled to himself, as if he’d expected as much. He poured me a glass of water, then slid my beer toward me as the foam crested the rim. I put a few dollars in his tip jar, and he flashed me a wink before leaving to take Ramón’s order.
“What’s the plan?” Vero asked me.
I talked into my beer as I pretended to sip it. “I’ll chat him up for a few minutes, then I’ll turn the conversation toward his car.” Theo wasn’t at all my type, but he was clearly willing to flirt in the hopes of boosting his tips.
“That’s a terrible plan. You’re old enough to be his mother.”
“I’m only nine years older than you. And I have plenty of experience picking up younger bartenders,” I reminded her. A middle-aged man with a beer gut stared at me with more than passing interest. “This is a perfectly good plan,” I said to Vero when he triedto wave me to his table. “I’m a beacon of estrogen in a sea of Cialis and hot wings.”
“You’re in a sports bar, Finn. This isn’t some bougie, white-collar networking event. You’re out of your league.”
“So, I’ll talk to him about sports.”
“What about sports?” Theo asked, startling me as he set a bowl of peanuts in front of me.
“Whatever you’re thinking about saying, don’t say it!” Vero shouted. I reached a finger under my hair to lower the volume of my earbuds. “Theo hustled his way through college working as a bookie,” she continued. “He will suss you out before you even take a swing.” I sat there, dumb, my mouth hanging open like a fish as Theo raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to answer. “Ask him who he bet on for the Final Four,” Vero suggested.
I cleared my throat. “So… who’d you bet on for the Final Four?”
Theo gave me a once-over, his eyes skeptical as they lingered on me. “You’re into college hoops?”
I pretended to sip my beer as I stalled. If we were talking football, maybe I could have faked this. I’d watched enough Super Bowl games with my dad and Georgia over the years to know the names of a few NFL teams, but never college sports. And definitely never basketball. I shrugged. “A little.”
“Who’s your money on tonight?”
I glanced up at the closest TV, but a commercial was on, the subtitles offering no clues to which teams had been playing. I listened, waiting for Vero to feed me an answer—she was always betting on some sports game or another—but the volume on my earbuds was suddenly too low. I could barely make out her frantic reply over all the other voices in the bar. “Whatever you… don’t… Maryland.”
“Maryland,” I said confidently.
Vero shouted a swear. Ramón shook his head. I followed his glance to the screen and quickly discovered why as the game came back on.
Theo’s grin quirked higher as all my blood rushed to my face.
