LAUREN Cameron Trost
––––––––
* * * *
I Lauren was sucking her bottom lip in anticipation as she watched the barman mix her cocktail. It was a ritual for her to get the ball rolling on a Saturday evening with a Lucille at the Bowery, just as it was becoming a ritual for her to only ever pay for that first drink of the night. The barman looked up for an instant and shot her a tantalising smile. He probably recognised her, but she couldn’t say for sure. She wondered what he thought of her, if anything at all. The smile had probably meant nothing. She hadn’t failed to notice that he was generous in that regard. Every half-decent looking girl got one. There was no reason to read anything into it.
The Bowery was a classy little bar and Lauren always came with the intention of meeting an equ
