Johnny Liddell sat through the dance duo that followed Marta’s spot. They handled their routines with professional grace, but from where he sat it was obvious that the male partner’s teeth were too white to be real and the female didn’t have enough meat on her to make a good soup. He wondered idly how it would be to go to bed with one that bony, decided it would be better to curl up with a good book.
The dance team took two encores, one of which was legitimate. As they headed off the floor, the lights came up, and waiters started wandering around the tables delivering the refills that had been ordered during the show.
Liddell managed to catch his waiter’s eye, brought him over to the table. “I want to get a message back to Marta Shane,” he told him.
The waiter grinned sadly. “Every guy
