“New client.” The boss had said. “Take him out. Make sure he doesn’t get in any trouble.”
Lindsey stood at the bar. Sipping his one scotch to Logan’s fifth, sixth, thirtieth? He couldn’t remember. He’d stopped counting and handed the bartender his corporate card. But the man wasn’t drunk. He didn’t sway. He didn’t slur. He didn’t speak at all. He just stared in the mirror behind the bottles and smoked a cigar that smelled like the flea spray Lindsey’s Momma used to put on the dogs.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?”
Logan shook his head.
“Should I call for tickets to a game?”
Lindsey traced the top of his crystal tumbler with the tip of his index finger and tried not to yawn. He had briefs to go over, reports to read. This was nothing but babysitting and he was bored and goddamn tired of being polite.
“What the fuck do you want to do then?”
The man smiled. He leaned a step too close, his nostrils flared as he inhaled. Lindsey saw the feral, somehow familiar gleam of lust in his eyes.
Suddenly Lindsey wasn’t tired at all.
“I don’t live far from here.”