she would after a few drinks. Wait. That was his plan. Who was playing who here?
The bar she chose was a nice one, and after parking, they were seated in a booth at the back almost immediately. A rowdier crowd held court around the bar, but they sat away from the noise.
They each ordered appetizers and a drink. Jack stuck with beer. He didn’t want to get liquored up. Cheryl ordered a fruity drink. Then the sparring commenced.
Cheryl started first. “So what did you do, Mr. Jack, before you came to work with us?”
For some reason Jack didn’t want to say he was a detective. “Freelancer,” he answered. “What did you say you were in charge of again? I’ve met so many people today I can’t keep anything straight.”
“Government Contracts,” she answered.
“Oh that’s right.” Now he remembered.
“And what did you do as a freelancer?”
“Oh you know,” he said, putting her off, “found things that were lost, protected possessions, that sort of thing. Before that I was a cop.”
Cheryl’s expression remained impassive. “A policeman. That sounds exciting.” Cheryl took the toothpick in her drink and began to eat the fruit on it. Only the way she was doing it... Could she be? Nah... Jack thought to himself as she sucked on a cherry. Well I did wear a suit today. And shaved.
“It wasn’t that exciting,” he said. “Just worked a regular beat. Got shot up one too many times and retired.”
“Oh,” here she went with the pouty lips again, “do you have scars?”
“A few.” He could picture some of his friends falling all over themselves by now. “How do you like working for Devonshire? How long have you been there?”
“I like it ok. It’s a job, you know? I’ve been there five years. Most people have worked there longer.”
“So people must like it.”
“Yeah. Good salary and benefits. People stick around.”
“What about Jerry Wilson? He didn’t stick around.”
Cheryl laughed and twirled the stick with pineapple on it around in her hand. “What is this, the third degree?” she asked, still half-laughing.
“No, sorry. I just heard he was my predecessor and wondered what happened. I like this job; I want to make sure I don’t make any mistakes.” Jack figured that sounded good enough.
Cheryl looked thoughtful. “Jerry was here for about six months, I think. I always got the feeling he didn’t leave on his own accord, if you know what I mean.”
“Ah.”
“But I don’t know any more about it. If you really want to know, ask Cindy. She knows everything. But it’s probably confidential.”
“Yeah.”
Cheryl looked him in the eyes and sucked down the pineapple. Their appetizers were done, and they had each downed about two drinks. Then she surprised him. “Hey, you want to get out of here?”
Their eyes met and held each other’s gaze. Jack stared, dumfounded. After that comment, well...I’m game if you are. He arched an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said, “my place or yours?” Jack’s experience with women had usually been that they felt more comfortable in their own homes. Cheryl surprised him again.
“Yours is fine. Is it close?”
“Pretty close, yeah.” He thought of his dump of an apartment. He hadn’t cleaned it in forever. There were probably old pizza boxes and bourbon bottles around.
Cheryl wrapped her coat around her.
Oh well. What the hell. A month had gone by since his last blonde spree. If Cheryl was okay with it, then he would be too. “I have to warn you,” he said. “I live in a pigsty.”
Cheryl laughed again. “All bachelors do.”
“Okay then,” said Jack as they walked out into the night. “Away we go.”
Chapter Six
“Wow, you really do live in a pigsty,” commented Cheryl after he turned the light on.
“I warned you.”
“Yes. Yes you did,” said Cheryl, but she stood there with her coat on looking around as if not sure whether to stay or go.
Jack didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Can I take your