Page 8 of Reckless Kiss

“Okay fine. Oh hey,” he said between mouthfuls of chicken wings. “Drinks Thursday. Everyone’s going to Rusty’s.”

“The baseball bar? No.” For Jeffry and his colleagues that would be fun. For me...it would be work. No matter what anyone said about it being a no-fly zone for work talk, it simply wasn’t true.

“Oh come on. You always know someone cool.”

Exactly. “I am not a trick pony you get to turn out for fun.”

He pouted a little and then a devious grin took over. “She’llbe there. You’ll get to see me crash and burn, up close and personal.”

Nowthatwas worth the price of admission. What was a couple of off-the-clock conversations over drinks when it came with a show? Priceless that’s what it was. But then another fun idea occurred to me. “Or, instead of spending my whole night laughing at you, I could help. On the fly. In real time.”

Jeffry’s nerdy little face lit up. He may have even become teary. I’m not sure since I turned off the part of me that noticed such things.

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

I glared at him because I was fairly certain I was two seconds away from getting a completely unnecessary hug. “If you say you love me I’ll quit.”

“Aw, come on, Leo.” He grinned and gave me thataw shucksgood guy routine he did so well. He should really be exploiting that ability with the ladies, not me.

“I mean it. One word and this friendship is over.”

He chuckled, finally turning his attention back to the football game. “You’re so good with women. It still surprises me how out of touch you are with your feelings. It’s okay to have emotions, Leo. It’s the twenty-first century in case you haven’t heard.”

* * *

For the occasionof having front row seats to Jeffry’s ineptitude I wore my favorite Italian loafers, bright blue suit, and white linen shirt—no tie. Clothes were my favorite personal indulgence and my profession allowed for it both in income and circumstance. I’m sure I would look out of place as, say, an engineer, but as an agent it was expected.

Some men invested in cars. I invested in watches, cuff links, and leather.

“Good evening, Rusty.”

The restaurant owner loved greeting his flashy clientele. It also served as a constant and personalized warning to every athlete, agent, and reporter that walked through his door: what happened at Rusty’s stayed at Rusty’s.

“Mr. Hancock.” He took my hand. “How are you?”

“Excellent. I’m headed to the bar.” Rusty liked to knowwhyeveryone was there. It helped him keep tabs.

“Are you with that group?”

“They’re academics. You have nothing to worry about. Most of them have no idea who’s who in here.”

Rusty grinned. “I got that impression.”

“I’ll make sure they behave.”

He walked with me through the restaurant, noting who smiled at us and who I waved to. “Thank you. I appreciate it. You know I get nervous when randoms walk in.”

“Trust me. These randoms are harmless.”

Oh how wrong I was. I just didn’t know it yet. I found Jeffry and he quickly reintroduced me to his fellow geneticists. I remembered them but our paths rarely crossed so it was always good to get a reminder. There was Mary, a delightful woman with a love of anime that came through in her fashion choices, Grant, the kind of man who didn’t know what fashion was but had a wicked sense of humor, and John, the man I referred to as “the trouble maker” because he was quiet but always had a trick up his sleeve.

“What are we drinking?”

Mary tapped the pitcher. “The Old Tampa Seasonal.”

Sounded disgusting. “Next round is on me.” I found that offering to buy a round as soon as I got to any group not only earned me instant goodwill but it also provided an icebreaker. We could talk about the drink selections, the crowd around us, the day they just had, or nothing at all. The act of arriving, leaving, and returning with alcohol gave the illusion I’d spoken about something.

“Pitcher of Old Tampa Seasonal and a Blanton’s, please.” I turned to survey the bar. My two Mantas players were in the corner with their significant others, along with three other men I didn’t recognize. Well, one tickled a memory but I couldn’t place him. My Bolts hockey player sat near the patio windows with his girlfriend, and one of my Renegades clients was here with a very large party of what appeared to be family.

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