battery. A martini was a chemical. And it was changing me, changing my brain. Oh, I would regret this in the morning.
“I heard about your aunt’s passing,” Coop said. “I’m so sorry. She was a nice lady. ”
“I miss her.”
“Death is tough. I lost Uncle Ralph a year ago. I thought I’d see you at the funeral home.”
“Aunt Bluette was getting radiation therapy,” I said.
“Bonaventure won’t be the same without her,” he said.
“Or without your uncle,” I said. Ralph had taught biology at the high school. Twice he’d been chosen Teacher of the Year for inspiring bored, hormonally driven teenagers to care about cell division.
“Damn, I didn’t mean to get maudlin.” Coop finished his beer and leaned into the space between us. “You smell like vanilla cake from the bakery.”
“A bakery?” I laughed.
“I really do smell vanilla,” he said.
I touched my nose to my shoulder. It did smell faintly sweet. Vanilla is supposed to increase blood flow to the nether regions. I wondered if it was affecting his.
“I made a coffee cake today,” I said.
“Homemade?”
“Is there any other kind?” I smiled. He wasn’t flirting. But I was.
He eased off his stool, walked over to the jukebox, and dropped a quarter into the slot. On his way back “Don’t Be Cruel” began to play. He leaned across the bar, and his hand knocked into the glass I was holding.
“Damn, I’m sorry,” he said.
“That’s okay.” I blotted up the spill with a napkin. “It’s happy hour. I’ve got a spare drink.”
“But I ruined your blouse.” He waved one hand. “Just take it off. Take it off right now. There’s a one-hour dry cleaners on East Bay.”
Seriously? Wait, he was kidding.
He leaned closer and sniffed. “Peach schnapps?”
“90 proof,” I said.
“Potent stuff,” he said. “I could pass out on Broad. A horse-drawn carriage might roll over me.”
“Or snag you,” I said. “You could be dragged for blocks.”
He laughed. “Just give me the blouse and nobody’ll get hurt.”
Normally I wouldn’t joke about accidents, but I couldn’t help it. The old chemistry was still there, and it wasn’t all from my side. Then I remembered why I was here. Coop’s job was to defend jailbirds, not flirt with them.
“I can’t resist vanilla,” he said.
“How can you smell anything in here?” I waved my hand. Cigarette smoke hung in thick strands under the billiard lights. Aunt Bluette always said breathing secondhand smoke was dangerous. Besides, it was time for me to go. I slid my toes into my flip-flops and smiled up at Coop. I wasn’t sure what to say—See you around? Nice talking to you? I hadn’t seen him in eleven years and probably wouldn’t see him for eleven more.
“Nice seeing you again, Coop.” I tossed down my drink.
“Don’t let me chase you off.”
“I’m chasing myself. I have to get up early.”
“Let me walk you to your car.” He touched my hand and a jolt of pleasure traveled up my arm.
“I didn’t drive,” I said. “I walked.”
“From where?”
“I just live a few blocks away.”
“I’ll drive you. This neighborhood can be scary after dark.”
“I’m not scared. Tourists are all over. And policemen.”
“Policemen won’t help. See, I’m a lawyer. I know what really goes on. Things that don’t make the news.”
“And it’s your duty to defend me, right?”
“I’d just feel better if you got home safe.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to know where I live.”
“You can blindfold me.”
“Then you can’t protect me.”
“Just let me walk you halfway.”
“Half? What good is half?”
He threw a wad of cash on the counter. “How about if you walk me to my truck?”
“You just don’t give up, do you?” I smiled.
“You should see me in a courtroom.”
We squeezed through the crowd, onto the sidewalk. A breeze stirred the hanging flower baskets. I smelled fried banana fritters, espresso, and cigars. Way off in the
“I heard about your aunt’s passing,” Coop said. “I’m so sorry. She was a nice lady. ”
“I miss her.”
“Death is tough. I lost Uncle Ralph a year ago. I thought I’d see you at the funeral home.”
“Aunt Bluette was getting radiation therapy,” I said.
“Bonaventure won’t be the same without her,” he said.
“Or without your uncle,” I said. Ralph had taught biology at the high school. Twice he’d been chosen Teacher of the Year for inspiring bored, hormonally driven teenagers to care about cell division.
“Damn, I didn’t mean to get maudlin.” Coop finished his beer and leaned into the space between us. “You smell like vanilla cake from the bakery.”
“A bakery?” I laughed.
“I really do smell vanilla,” he said.
I touched my nose to my shoulder. It did smell faintly sweet. Vanilla is supposed to increase blood flow to the nether regions. I wondered if it was affecting his.
“I made a coffee cake today,” I said.
“Homemade?”
“Is there any other kind?” I smiled. He wasn’t flirting. But I was.
He eased off his stool, walked over to the jukebox, and dropped a quarter into the slot. On his way back “Don’t Be Cruel” began to play. He leaned across the bar, and his hand knocked into the glass I was holding.
“Damn, I’m sorry,” he said.
“That’s okay.” I blotted up the spill with a napkin. “It’s happy hour. I’ve got a spare drink.”
“But I ruined your blouse.” He waved one hand. “Just take it off. Take it off right now. There’s a one-hour dry cleaners on East Bay.”
Seriously? Wait, he was kidding.
He leaned closer and sniffed. “Peach schnapps?”
“90 proof,” I said.
“Potent stuff,” he said. “I could pass out on Broad. A horse-drawn carriage might roll over me.”
“Or snag you,” I said. “You could be dragged for blocks.”
He laughed. “Just give me the blouse and nobody’ll get hurt.”
Normally I wouldn’t joke about accidents, but I couldn’t help it. The old chemistry was still there, and it wasn’t all from my side. Then I remembered why I was here. Coop’s job was to defend jailbirds, not flirt with them.
“I can’t resist vanilla,” he said.
“How can you smell anything in here?” I waved my hand. Cigarette smoke hung in thick strands under the billiard lights. Aunt Bluette always said breathing secondhand smoke was dangerous. Besides, it was time for me to go. I slid my toes into my flip-flops and smiled up at Coop. I wasn’t sure what to say—See you around? Nice talking to you? I hadn’t seen him in eleven years and probably wouldn’t see him for eleven more.
“Nice seeing you again, Coop.” I tossed down my drink.
“Don’t let me chase you off.”
“I’m chasing myself. I have to get up early.”
“Let me walk you to your car.” He touched my hand and a jolt of pleasure traveled up my arm.
“I didn’t drive,” I said. “I walked.”
“From where?”
“I just live a few blocks away.”
“I’ll drive you. This neighborhood can be scary after dark.”
“I’m not scared. Tourists are all over. And policemen.”
“Policemen won’t help. See, I’m a lawyer. I know what really goes on. Things that don’t make the news.”
“And it’s your duty to defend me, right?”
“I’d just feel better if you got home safe.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to know where I live.”
“You can blindfold me.”
“Then you can’t protect me.”
“Just let me walk you halfway.”
“Half? What good is half?”
He threw a wad of cash on the counter. “How about if you walk me to my truck?”
“You just don’t give up, do you?” I smiled.
“You should see me in a courtroom.”
We squeezed through the crowd, onto the sidewalk. A breeze stirred the hanging flower baskets. I smelled fried banana fritters, espresso, and cigars. Way off in the
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