The Craft Beer Market was noisy. Music and loud voices bounced off the hard surfaces of wood and furniture, making conversation difficult. The restaurant had made its reputation on serving fifty different types of beer on tap. Even wine was served from kegs and the mostly millennial-age group had a lot of choices on the beverage menu.
Anya Roberts sipped her wheat beer, quickly taking glances at one of the servers. When her girlfriends suggested they get together for a few drinks, she readily agreed. They choose to meet at the Craft Beer Market and suddenly Anya had some apprehension.
Her detective partner, Moss Stone, had a girlfriend who worked there. She had heard his description of her well enough that she felt she could guess which one of the pretty women that waitressed was Cindy. She declined to admit she had jealous feelings for him and convinced herself that her interest was strictly because she was friends with him. Damn. Nice hair, easy smile, and she’s tall. She felt a poke at her arm and looked over at Monique sitting next to her.
Monique smiled. “I was asking you about work and that cute detective you’re working with but it seems you’re really into that waitress.”
Anya blushed. “No, it’s just that I think I know her from somewhere.”
“Then go and say hello.” Jennifer laughed. “Maybe she likes you, too.”
“I don’t think so. You were asking about Moss?”
“Just curious. How is it working with him after you-know-what happened with him a few years back?”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Ancient history. We’re just friends now.” She knew her friends weren’t going to let her forget she slept with Stone twice before being moved in the police department to be his detective partner. What she didn’t tell Monique was he had stayed overnight at her place a few weeks ago when he had too much to drink. He did sleep on the couch but her friends would interpret that as a sign they were getting closer.
“Very good friends?”
“End of discussion. No more Moss conversation.”
“All right. So how do you happen to know this waitress? She’s rather pretty.”
“I don’t know her. She’s just familiar, that’s all. Can I interrogate you now about your love life?”
“Nothing to tell. I’m happily single. Men call me, buy me drinks, and give me flowers on my birthday. All is how it should be.” She paused. “But you, with your heart still longing for Moss Stone, have a much more complicated love life.”
No kidding. Complicated. “No, my love life is dull. No boyfriend. As for Moss, we have an understanding. Just work friends.”
“You’re such a liar.”
After two rounds of drinks, the group decided it was time to hit another bar within walking distance. There were several bars close by, and as Anya made her way to the exit, she took another look at the server. The server smiled and walked over to her.
Oh my God, she must think I was flirting with her.
“Hi, I’m Cindy. You must be Anya.”
“That’s right.”
“Moss has told me a lot about you, so I feel I already know you. I guess you recognized me too from what Moss said.”
“Yes, sorry for staring. I wasn’t sure.”
“That’s okay.” She scribbled on a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. Let’s have a coffee sometime.”
Roberts left the bar, catching up to the others. Her phone hummed and rang. She dug it out of her purse and recognized the number. Shit.
Chris Armstrong leaned over the pool table, pulling his cue back. He froze in position for a moment before sending the cue ball rolling down the green carpet and smartly striking the black ball into the corner pocket.
Stone put his own cue stick away, separating the two halves and placing them in the case. “Nice shot.”
“Thanks.” He walked back to the high table where they were sitting, finished his beer and signalled the waitress for another. “How come you’re out by yourself tonight? Cindy working?”
“Yeah. That’s the trouble with dating a waitress. They work too many nights.”
“Doesn’t she also go to university? That must make it hard to find time to hang out.”
“It does. She’s planning to take in the Fringe in the next few days, so she’ll be busy for a while.”
“I went last year. It was okay, but it’s not for everyone.”
“I looked at the plays and there are some strange names to the plays. Hard to tell what it’s about. I’d rather just relax with a drink in a bar.”
“I hear you, but you want to keep her happy, too.”
“Yeah, gotta find that middle ground where she’s happy and I’m not bored.” Stone finished his pint. “Okay, that’s it for me tonight.”
Armstrong laughed. “Come on. One more game.” He glanced at the pool tables.
“Army, you beat me in six out of the eight games. As much fun as it has been losing to you, I think it’s best that I go home while I’m still legally allowed to do so.” He stood, easing the barstool back in place. “Next time I’ll beat you for sure.” Stone dropped two twenties on the table.
“All right.” He looked at the bills. “Too much money there.” He reached for his wallet in the back of his jeans.
“That’s okay. It’ll even out next time we have drinks.”
Stone waved goodbye and saw Armstrong eyeing another table where two men and a woman were playing. He speculated his friend would be checking to see if they would like a fourth. If not, Armstrong was personable enough to engage with other pool players looking for another player.
Stone stepped out into the cool air. The day had been hot and the weather forecast was for rain. When it came to bad weather, the forecast was always right.
The Metropolitan Billiards Café, usually called The Metro, was a long-established bar, featuring fifteen pool tables, a stage for a band, a dance floor, and a large assortment of beer. Stone liked the friendly atmosphere of the bar, skirting the fine line between being an easy spot to meet people and not being a pickup place. The location, just outside the downtown core, was a short distance from where he lived.
The Metro was quieter than usual. Stone knew the south side of the city was where most of the party crowd had gone. The Fringe festival was a ten-day event and the bars near the theatres did a lively business.
His girlfriend, Cindy, had expressed interest in going to some of the plays. Stone was not as enthusiastic to watch live theatre and suggested a movie instead. The result ended with her making plans with a group of her friends, men and women, to attend some plays. Stone was excluded, making him feel slightly annoyed.
He reached his car just as rain speckled the windshield. He checked the time on his dashboard, judged Cindy would be off in two hours, and figured they could have a drink together. He sent her a text, offering to give her a ride home. Maybe I’ve got to find a way to spend more time with her, even if it means going to the Fringe.
His phone rang. “Stone here. Speak.” He listened. “Okay, I’ll head there now.” It’s going to be a long night. He sent a second text to Cindy, cancelling his previous offer to give her a ride home.