17
Max felt himself gaining presence as Clay and Brooke walked into the pub. He ended up finishing a golden pint that Clay had barely had a chance to taste, and approved of the choice. Clay was a wild card and not easy to live with, but he knew good beer and beautiful women. If only he could curb his appetite for both a little more often.
The pub was full and noisy even in mid-evening, and he and Brooke were lucky to have a table against a wall, which reduced the number of times a heavily laden waitress had to weave past their elbows. Brooke was in the middle of explaining her mother’s job as a civil-rights lawyer. Max was perfectly content to sip his beer and watch her face. After a few moments she stopped talking and self-consciously brushed her hair back behind her ear.
“Max?”
“How
