”…so anyway,” Ann laughed above the sharp crack of billiard balls from the back room, “he learned a valuable lesson about concentrating on the front-sight post. Marcus, hello, yes, I’ll have another.”
Across the table, Sven groaned theatrically. Rachel Eisenstein’s musical laughter provided a comical counterpoint to Sven Bailey’s gloom.
”Oh, hush up and finish your beer,” Ann told him. “I won fair and square.”
”I know. That’s what’s so damn depressing.”
Ann winked at Marcus while Rachel sipped from her wineglass and continued to laugh silently. Sven took another pull from his beer mug and sighed. The young bartender grinned and went in search of refills.
Granville Baxter wandered in, having to duck under the doorway, and paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. His grey business suit was still crisp and neat, but the man who wore it had a wilted look that said, “I need a drink. Now” Rachel waved and indicated an empty chair. Baxter’s maternal Masai heritage coupled with a few paternal ancestors who’d been NBA stars gave him a height advantage over every single ‘eighty-sixer in La-La Land. Granville Baxter, however, had no earthly interest in sports, other than occasionally sponsoring special Time Tours package deals for rich franchises.
Time Tours considered Baxter a marketing genius.
”Mind if I join you?” he asked, ever polite even at the Down Time.
Sven gestured to one of several empty chairs. “Park em.
The Time Tours executive sank back with a sigh, fished in a pocket for a handkerchief, and blotted his dark brow.