The Cave sat on the outskirts of Bitter. A hip and dimly lit place. Its walls and floors were all stone, as well as its oversized booths. The Doors and Blue Oyster Cult hummed down from speakers. Seating was limited, but I didn’t care. Something uncanny called me there, and Harry and I had to go and check it out.
Camden Cave owned the restaurant and bar for the last two dozen years. According to talk, he wasn’t doing bad financially. A younger crowd, mostly Goths, had taken interest in the establishment, feeding it money. Plus, all the foodie channels and their traveling/eating shows gave it a thumbs-up, which put The Cave on the map.
Dinner with Harry turned most interesting. Over steaks the size of Texas, wedged fries, and tall glasses of malt beer, he flirted with me. He reached acros
