Walking down LaSalle Street, I was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I’d talked to Frank before I left work. He told me Sondra was thirty-six years old, divorced for five years, with no kids, and she wasn’t seeing anyone now. I asked him if it was all right to have a drink with her. He said what she did on her time was none of his business; this he said with a wink and a smile.
Choices was a bar located next to the building where we worked. It reminded me of the TV show Cheers. One of the bartenders looked a little like Ted Danson. No sooner did we walk in than Sondra turned and said, “We could have taken a cab.”
Cheers“It’s only three blocks, and my car is parked down on Lower Wacker.
The bartender had just walked away with our orders when I felt a hand
