Last Chance Saloon
Chapter One
At the chrome-and-glass Camden restaurant the skinny hostess
ran her purple nail down the book and muttered, "Casey, Casey,
where've you got to? Here we are, table twelve. You're the -"
"First to arrive?" Katherine finished for her. She couldn't
hide her disappointment because she'd forced herself, every
fiber in her body resisting, to be five minutes late.
"Are you a Virgo?" Purple Nails swore by astrology.
At Katherine's nod, she went on, "It's your destiny to be
pathologically punctual. Go with it."
A waiter called Darius, with dreadlocks in a Hepburnesque
topknot, pointed Katherine in the direction of her table,
where she crossed her legs and shook her layered bob back off
her face, hoping this made her look poised and unconcerned.
Then she pretended to study the menu, wished she smoked, and
swore blind that the next time she'd try to be ten minutes
late.
Maybe, as Tara regularly suggested, she should start going to
Anal-Retentives Anonymous.
Seconds later Tara arrived, uncharacteristically on time,
clattering across the bleached beech floor, her wheat-colored
hair flying. She wore an asymmetrical dress that glowed with
newness, sang money, and - unfortunately - bulged slightly.
Her shoes looked great, though. "Sorry ... read full excerpt from: Last Chance Saloon ebook
