“It’s nothing,” I explained. “The manager just bought us a round of drinks.”
“Really?” she frowned. “That’s odd. They don’t usually do that here … at least, not for the first round. I wonder who’s on duty?”
She started craning her neck trying to get a clear look at the bar. While she was doing that, I turned my attention to our drinks.
They appeared innocent enough. Basically an opaque red fluid over ice cubes with some kind of greenery sticking out of it. Hers was a darker red than mine, but aside from that, they looked the same. Cautiously, I took a sip … and discovered, to my relief, it tasted sort of like tomato juice.
“Hey! This is pretty good,” I declared. “What’s in it, anyway?”
“Hmm?” Cassandra said, turning her attention to me again. “Oh. Yours is just tomato juice and vodka.”
I didn’t know what vodka was, but tomato juice I could handle. The first sip had reminded me how thirsty I was after all our running around, so I downed most of the glass with my next swallow.
“Hey! Take it easy, Tiger,” my date admonished. “Those things can pack a wallop if you aren’t used to them . . . and it can leave a stain, so don’t drip any on your …”
She stopped in mid-sentence and stared at my outfit.
“Say. Weren’t you wearing a different shirt before?”
“Oh, it’s the same shirt,” I said, as casually as I could. “I just changed it a little bit. I think this is more appropriate for this place, don’t you?”
“But how could you … I get it! Magik!”
Her reaction was everything I could have hoped for … except she wasn’t done.