19
“Go on, then,” David said to the woman next to him. “My friend’s here. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I raised my eyebrows and watched her sashay off through the masses, which was impressive considering there wasn’t room enough between people to sashay.
“New friend?” I asked and slid onto her just-vacated stool.
“I couldn’t just wait here forever without company,” he told me with a wink.
Troy placed a pint of something dark in front of me. I gave him a skeptical look. “You know I don’t do stouts,” I told him.
“Try it. It’s a dark brown someone brought me from the States. Called Drafty Kilt.”
I sniffed it and took a sip—malty, yes, but with a nice sweet/bitter balance. “Okay, not bad.”
With a satisfied grunt, he walked to the other side to take someone’s order.
“Find her?” asked David
