Chapter Ten

Over more drinks, this and that conversations about tennis, the up coming elections, Beno, Armstrong, the evening moved along, Mary suggested stop at a super market, buy a couple T-bones, go to her place, cook on her new patio hibachi, make a Caesar salad, serve wine, get high, more wine, “Get close.”

Zack insisted it was too hot.

After another round of drinks they compromised.

In a corner booth at the Pulp Fiction Grill for a shared southwestern omelette, coffee and bagels, Mary said, “What is it with you and booths?”

“Privacy.”