The BarThe first time I had a chocolate martini, I was with the most beautiful man in the world.
Wouldn’t you know it: the next time I have one, the bastard shows up again.
I sat at the bar smoking when a great commotion came from behind. A body fell with a thud, and looking down, I saw him.
Joseph Kerr lay on his back beside my right boot, his face bloody, his clothes disheveled. I had never seen him in such a state.
And he had the effrontery to glance at my hem, after everything that had happened.
“Master Kerr,” I said. “What a surprise.”
The men in the room helped him to a chair, and he motioned for me to approach. His lip was split and I supposed speaking would have been painful, so I bent over him.
“I must speak with you alone,” he whispered.
I straightened, appalled that he w
