“It was a favorite watering hole of the BPD, but that evening there weren’t any cops in the place besides us since all the city’s officers were busy hunting down Aphrodite Johnson. The place smelled like beer and wood polish and blue chalk from the pool cues. The dark-paneled walls and low light made it feel like a cave. In other words, it was the perfect sort of place for drowning our frustrations in dollar pitchers of beer. We were on our third round when Morales challenged Shadi to a game of ...pool. Mez got up to go put some blues on the jukebox and then went to provide color commentary for the pool match. I leaned my head back against the cracked vinyl of the booth and let the smooth Mississippi currents in Muddy Waters’s voice wash over me. Gardner nursed her beer across from me and seemed as content as I was sharing a companionable silence. Eventually, though, I opened my eyes and leaned forward to take a sip. As I did, my gaze landed on the tiger-eye cabochon on her left hand.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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