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“But still, third world s**t. Man never knows.” Herbert gazed up the rickety set of stairs where his boss had disappeared with the girl. “I don’t believe he actually has s*x with them.” “What, then?” “I don’t really want to know.” Mirabel WAS WAITING at the bakery by the time Shaw got there. They ordered and ate their pastries and drank their fresh coffee outside on bistro chairs. Reggie’s hair was swept up under a Red Sox baseball cap. She had on jean shorts, a pale blue T-shirt, and Saucony running shoes. Shaw was dressed in slacks, loafers, and a white long-sleeved shirt. Mirabel sipped her coffee, ran an eye over him, and said playfully, “You still dress like a lobbyist, even in Provence.” Shaw smiled and eased back on the little chair. Behind them a workman was washing down the
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