I spot her at the end of the bar—the brunette who hasn't looked up from
her phone in twenty minutes. There's something almost prey-like in the way her
fingers nervously tap the screen. Third vodka soda, no lime. Shoulders curved
inward like she's trying to disappear into herself. Perfect.
I smooth my Italian silk tie and signal the bartender. "Another round for the
lady."
This is what...
