“This table is reserved.” The waitress snapped when Lyla and Stephanie pulled out chairs at the best table adjacent to the dance floor after picking up drinks. “Reserved for us,” Lyla said. “No. Reserved for people who paid for dinner,” the waitress snapped. “People will buy us dinner,” Lyla sat down. “Most lawyers wouldn’t pull you back from a speeding truck. They’d push you in front of the truck and take the case. Stephanie, sit down and drink,” Lyla commanded. “I think he did it instinctively.” Stephanie sipped her champagne. “Can’t you drink a Cranberry Cosmo like everyone else?” “I’m an old fashioned girl. I like champagne.” “There’s something about him.” Stephanie thought about telling Lyla about feeling Harlan’s pounding heart. The feel of his fear. She changed her mind. It seemed too private. “Hottie at 12 o’clock.” Lyla said. At their bar, Lyla insisted on identifying the good looking men’s location by hours on the clock.
