She wore a long belted coat of dark-green leather and the same pantsuit that she had worn earlier in the day. She was smoking a cigarette and as I approached she snuffed it out with the air of someone who has smoked too many of them while waiting too long. “I think we should talk,” she said. “My place or the bar? They’re both private.” She hesitated just long enough for me to decide that a proper upbringing could still do occasional battle with the liberation movement. “The bar,” she said. It wasn’t difficult to find a table because they were all empty. We chose one near the door and when Sid came over from behind the bar she ordered a bourbon and soda. I asked for a Scotch and water that I didn’t particularly want or need. “Where’s Wiedstein?” I asked after we had tasted our drinks. “He’s picking me up here later.” “What’s it like?” “What?” “Working with Procane.” “I like it.” “That doesn’t tell me what it’s like.” She started unbuttoning her leather coat and then shrugged out of it before I could help.
