Abraham looked put out. “Why don’t you just interview me?”
A smile broke over my face. “I’m going to take you up on that, one of these days. See you.”
I’d barely gone two feet when his familiar tones called me back. “Hey, Tamar.”
I turned back.
His previous levity had been replaced by a bright earnestness. “Let’s get drinks tomorrow.”
Drinks. With Abraham Krasner. I tilted my head. “On a Monday night?”
He shrugged. “My Monday’s your Friday.”
True enough; most NFL teams had Tuesdays off. “Yeah, but it’s still my Monday.”
“Come on. I’ll take you to a beatnik-themed bar.”
He knew I had a weakness for literary themes, though he’d always been the one who went gaga over Kerouac, not me. Still—”You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“What?”
“You know, take care of the girl-next-door in the big-bad-city. Be nice to me because of our moms. That’s why you’re showing me around, right?”
He looked at me for a long moment. “Maybe I just want to take you out for drinks.”
I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “Okay, Abe.”
After another long moment, he relented. “Does that mean you’ll meet me tomorrow?”
A smile tugged at my lips. It was fun, having the upper hand with him. “Seven o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”
He raised his brows. “I haven’t told you the bar’s name yet.”
True. “That does spoil my dramatic exit.”
He laughed, and when I left, we were both smiling.
* * *
I was the first one at the bar, which gave me the chance to look around. The walls were papier-mâchéd with old pages, and the black tabletops had quotes in white scrawled across them. The lighting fixtures were old and brass, the music low and relaxing. I would have expected the patrons to be cooler-than-thou, but I would have been wrong; it was an easy mix of old and young, bright-eyed and exhausted souls. I grabbed a rum and Coke and sat in a corner booth where I could watch everyone.
I saw Abe as soon as he walked in. It was impossible not to, since he was taller and broader than most of the guys, and his hair refused to ever lie perfectly flat. Everyone made way for him, not just because of his size, but because of the confidence he walked with, like he would carve a straight path out of stone, let alone human bodies.
It helped, of course, that he was famous and good-looking.
I reached up my arm and waved. It could have been my imagination that his face brightened on seeing me, but I didn’t really think so.
No one bothered him as he came toward me, save one or two familiar pats on the back and handshakes, which Abe returned with broad, easy grins and laughing words. It was clear he was a regular here, and adored out of uniform as much as in.
He stopped at the table before me, instead of dropping into the chair I had quickly cleared of my jacket for him. I tilted my head. “What?”
He ran his gaze over my short black dress with pairs of military-style buttons going up the center. “I’m not sure my memory’s caught up to time yet.”
“I think that’s the compliment.”
His mouth lifted in a wry half smile. “Oh, it’s a compliment, all right.”
Unexpected heat rushed my cheeks. I hoped he couldn’t see it in the dimness. “Um. Thanks, then.”