A Taste of the Nightlife
“Hunger and exhaustion robbed me of the ability to consider anything beyond an immediate need for food and caffeine. La Petite Abeille, a little Belgian place where they served big buckets of fries and mussels along with very good, very strong coffee, was only a few blocks away.Etienne clasped my hand as I walked in the door, asked the bare minimum of questions about how Chet and I were doing, and got me a table in the back corner.The phone rang the second he dropped the menu off. I checked the ...number and read BRENDAN MADDOX. Had I given him my number? I would have remembered giving him my number, wouldn’t I?Not even Trish could get on my case for taking this one.“Hello, Mr. Maddox.”“Hello, Chef Caine.”“How’s your hand?”“Sore. Bruised. A little embarrassed, but otherwise all right.”I thought about O’Grady’s neat lines of folders and photographs and the strain of sitting through his long silences. “At least it was only a wall you punched.”“That’s what I keep telling myself.”MoreLess
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