“Then—what?”
She fluttered her eyelashes.
“Then we’ll see.”
“That sounds exciting.”
She pouted.
“Don’t you want to dance with me?”
“Sure,” I said.
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to move a piano tonight.
The barman put down two large glasses, three-quarters filled with green liquid. I made a move to reach for my roll, but he had already gone.
“I can’t get used to this on-the-house business,” I said, picking up the glass. “You will,” she said.