Michael sniffs. “That could have gone better.”
“Yes, it could.”
Klempner remains silent.
Ahead of us, a woman lounges by a corner, cradling a cigarette, blowing smoke into rings as she watches first one way, then the other, then back again. Her dress, clingy and brief, glitters black under the lights. Tall heels display excellent legs.
From around the corner, a car appears, slowing to a crawl. She steps out, chin lifting, one hand set on her c****d hip. But the driver ignores her, passing and with a scowl, she drops back to her lounging spot.
Charlotte and Natalie quicken their pace, Natalie raising a hand to flag the woman’s attention. Michael and I match their pace.
“We should drop back a bit further,” says Klempner.
“I want to hear what they’re saying,” says Michael
“So do I, b
