Free Twist by John Lutz Page B

brown hair with a part on the left, and was dressed well enough in gray slacks and a black blazer. Not a memorable-looking guy, but one you didn’t immediately look away from. If he were a tune he’d be Muzak.
    But there was something else about him that had snagged Connie’s attention. The woman he was with at the bar was blond, like Connie, and not overweight but kind of on the plump side. Plump in the right places, that is. Connie automatically compared: she, Connie, had a better turn of ankle than the woman at the bar, a slimmer waist, lusher hair—and she wouldn’t have been caught dead in the green dress the woman was wearing. Green did nothing for her color other than make her look like a zombie.
    All of this in a glance.
    Connie decided she and the woman might be the same type, but it was Connie who won every comparison. The other woman looked like her frumpy country cousin.
    Not that Connie actually had a frumpy country—or city—cousin.
    As she watched, the man smiled at the woman he was with, touched the back of her hand, then seemed to excuse himself.
    Uh-oh.
    He was walking directly toward Connie.
    Connie wished she were somewhere else.
    I was too obvious. Made an ass of myself.
    She was glad she’d had enough vodka to dull her embarrassment somewhat.
    While she stared, he sat down easily across from her at her table, as if she’d invited him. She resisted smiling back at him. It wasn’t easy. This was such an obvious trade-up from the woman at the bar, who now was pointedly facing away and paying no attention to either of them.
    “You invited me over,” he said.
    Connie kept a straight face. “I don’t remember that.”
    He gave her the same smile he’d given the woman at the bar just before leaving her. It was a smile that said he could do pretty much what he pleased, and she wouldn’t mind. He leaned slightly toward Connie. “When two people like us meet, we should discuss it.”
    “Discuss what?”
    “Why we’re meeting.”
    She grinned. “That would be because you’ve got the chutzpah to walk over here and pretend fate has drawn us to each other.”
    “If fate hasn’t provided us with each other, what am I doing here?”
    “I would say it’s because I appeal to you more than the woman you were chatting up at the bar.”
    He laughed. “Talk about chutzpah! She happens to be my sister.”
    “Is that the truth?”
    “Of course not. What are you drinking?”
    “Vodka and water on the rocks.”
    “Enjoy it while you can. I hear this place is soon going to become a health drink oasis.”
    “You gotta be kidding.”
    “Nope. A lot of bars are going to convert. They’ll get a big tax rebate. It’s part of some pet project of the mayor’s. He wants New Yorkers to be healthier.”
    “Than who?”
    “I don’t know. The Russians? The Chinese? Texans? It’s not a bad idea. For the public good. Your glass is almost empty. May I buy you another?”
    “My glass is one quarter full.”
    “Such incredible optimism.” He signaled to the bartender for another round. Connie saw that he was drinking what looked like scotch or bourbon on the rocks.
    “I didn’t say you may,” Connie told him.
    “I read your mind.”
    “You can do that?”
    “Yes, but I don’t want to embarrass you.”
    The bartender came out from behind the bar and delivered their fresh drinks. She left his half-full glass and removed Connie’s nearly empty one.
    He raised his drink as if in toast and said, “My name is Brad.”
    “Your name is bullshit,” Connie said. But she touched her glass to his. “I’m Connie.”
    He smiled at her. “Nice name. And mine really is Brad. I won’t tell you my last name, though. It’s too early in our relationship for that.”
    “True,” Connie said. “We wouldn’t want to be able to look each other up in the phone book.”
    “Or on Facebook.”
    They both sipped. He looked at her with eyes she’d thought were blue but in the reflected light of an illuminated beer