Plus, being on the top deck was a bit dangerous when you combined the dark sky with high heels and alcohol. We settled at the table. Derek leaned forward, elbows on the Formica. He looked pained, like his pants were too tight after a big, extravagant meal. I considered making coffee but didn't want to derail this conversation. Plus I kinda valued my internal organs. Drinking that sludge would surely kill them. Instead I reached into the cooler he'd set on the floor, and grabbed a second beer. He quirked an eyebrow. "Aren't you driving? Or do you plan on spending the night?" And be privy to the sounds of him and tonight's bed partner? No thank you. I set the bottle down. He grabbed it, popped the top, and guzzled half of it in one gulp. "You were right about Brady and me. We were buddies. In fact, he was one of few cops I ever considered a friend, even a close one." I imagined them at the bar, chatting about their days on the streets wrangling criminals and cheating spouses.
