“I’ve got mine.”
He said, “You get two drinks for a dollar when one of the girls sits at the table with you. Or you get one drink for a dollar.”
I handed him a dollar and a quarter and said, “Give my drink to the girl. Keep the quarter for change, and don’t bother me for a while.”
He grinned, took the money, and brought the girl a medium-sized glass filled with a pale amber fluid.
She didn’t even bother to pretend, but tossed it down straight as though performing a chore, then pushed the empty glass out in front of her where it bore eloquent testimony to the fact that she was being neglected.
I reached for it before she could snatch the glass away, and smelled it.
She said, somewhat angrily, “Why is it that all you wise guys think you’re being so cute when you do that? Of course it’s cold tea. What did you expect?”
“Cold tea,” I said.
“Well, you’re not disappointed. If my stomach can stand it, you shouldn’t kick.”
“I’m not kicking.”