Real nose to the grindstone today. I’m not quite back on track, but I did a good bit of it. I also finally formally blocked out the plot. That’s a bad habit to get into – not blocking out the plot, I mean – so I don’t recommend it.
“Compliments of the lady over there, Shamus.”
I raised one eyebrow in surprise at the orange slice-garlanded drink, and some more at the smell. It was some of the local booze: the locals called it ‘damiana,’ but I wasn’t sure which Queen of Virginia the stuff had been named after. Supposedly it’d been used in the real old days to encourage one’s ‘passion,’ if you know what I mean: a woman sending a glass of it over to a man wasn’t exactly what you’d call a subtle hint.
Or maybe it was, because when I looked over to see who my sudden benefactress was who did I see, but Dolores? She was all nicely dolled up tonight, too. She wasn’t trying to hide her age, and she sure wasn’t ashamed of what she had. When she saw me see her, she raised her own glass and toasted me.
Naturally, I took myself and my drink over to her. No need not to be polite. Besides, I was on vacation.
“You don’t want to get mixed up with a guy like me, dollface,” I drawled as I joined her at her table. “I’m a bad penny and a plugged nickel, all rolled up into one.”
“Well, you’re certainly as funny as a three dollar bill,” she cracked wise, right back. “That’s the only bad old joke I know about money, sorry.”
“There’s the one about rubber checks bouncing, but trying to shove that in would strain the patter,” I told her. “Hope you understand that I ain’t finishing, or even starting, this. No offense.”