Chapter 5
A sign flashed ‘The Watering Hole’ over the bottles of liquor reflected in a floor-to-ceiling smoked mirror. Customers pressed in, crunching on peanut shells strewn over wood plank floors. They reached over each other, grabbed chilled beer steins and mixed drinks, and plopped money onto the polished oak bar. Most of the patrons were locals spending a few hours to wind down at their favorite watering “hole” before they went home. Some were vacationers who’d stumbled into the place. The owners didn’t spend much effort in recruiting the tourists. They didn’t have to. Everyone found their way to ‘The Hole’ eventually.
Paul planted himself at Mark’s booth and signaled the waiter for two more bottles of Bud, before Mark could tell him to go away. Then he sat back with an I-know-you’r
