Free The Old Man in the Club by Curtis Bunn

number; I really would like to tell you about this situation,” he said. “But I have to leave.”
    â€œIt’s not that late,” Nikki said. “But then again, you’re old.”
    They laughed. “I’ll let you get away with that…for now,” Elliott said. “How about I give you my number and you call me if you’d like to hear my story and/or get together again?”
    â€œYou’d better take my number,” Nikki said. “I’m old school. My mom and dad taught me that the man should pursue you and should make the first phone call. I’m a woman of today in most instances. But in some ways I’m 1950s.”
    â€œWell, that’s my era, so I can relate and respect that point of view,” Elliott said, pulling out his cell phone. She recited her number and he programmed it in his phone.
    â€œDo me a favor and text me to let me know you made it home safely tonight. I will text you my number now. Is that too forward of you, to let me know you’re safe? It doesn’t matter what time it is.”
    â€œOh, wow, you’re a gentleman, I see. I gotta watch out for you.”

CHAPTER SIX
Beyond Her Years
    On the ride home, Elliott called one of his closest friends, Henry. They met when Elliott was released from prison and moved to Atlanta. Both were at the Division of Driver Services and struck up a conversation during the endless wait, and became friends. They shared a passion for women, golf and long drives.
    â€œI met another one,” Elliott said when Henry answered the phone.
    â€œYeah, hello to you, too,” Henry said.
    â€œOh, my mistake,” Elliott said. “Just had to tell you before I got home about this girl.”
    â€œHow old is she and where did you meet her?” Henry asked. Those were always his first two questions.
    â€œI’m not sure about her age; she wouldn’t say,” Elliott said. “I’m guessing she’s thirty or early thirties.”
    â€œOh, a seasoned woman by your standards,” Henry cracked.
    â€œShe looks about twenty-five. But she has a good spirit about her. Great conversation. It shows you can still get a good conversation out of a young woman.”
    â€œI’m sure that’s not what you’re really looking to get from her.”
    â€œNo, but I will take it. I’m leaving Compound. This place is crazy.”
    â€œYeah, I’ve been there. Nice. But what are you going to do about all these women you keep meeting? I’m just saying. You can’t goon this way forever. You’ll be sixty-two in a few months. I think that’s when you should retire, find one that you like and settle down.”
    â€œThat sounds nice…like a fairy tale. Meanwhile, in the real world, I’m pulling up to my garage. Upstairs there is a young lady who turned twenty-five yesterday, waiting on me. Remind me to tell you about that tomorrow.”
    â€œYeah, let’s meet for lunch. Call me.”
    They hung up and Elliott made his way through the garage and up to his apartment. He opened the door and found a scented candle burning on the coffee table, near her purse, but no Tamara. There was music playing on the iPod. He peeked into his room and the second bedroom and she was not there.
    Only place left for her was the balcony, and there he found her leaning on the rail, looking over the city with a glass of wine in her hand…totally naked.
    Elliott looked around and was glad his balcony wrapped around the apartment and had no connecting balcony.
    â€œYou should see your face,” she said.
    â€œI see your everything,” he said. “And it looks damn good.”
    â€œI feel so free,” she said, raising her arms above her head and spilling some Pinot Noir on her shoulder. “Totally liberated.”
    â€œShit, seeing you like that out here makes me feel liberated—and I still have my clothes on.”
    â€œNot for long, I