I raised my eyebrows. “Friendly? You’ve never been friendly toward me or anyone else here. And what does it matter how I behave toward you—short of being rude—as long as the job’s done? That’s why I’m here, correct?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“My work is impeccable?”
“Without question. However…”
I walked to the door. “Good. I’ll see you next week.”
That evening, I went to my new favorite haunt because there was a reading by an author I had recently discovered. She had written a very moving story about coming out to her parents and the difficulties she endured over the years after that.
While listening to her speak, I glanced around me and was surprised to see Bruce, the bartender from Johnny’s Hole, sitting two rows in front of me. He looked good in the overhead lighting, his green eyes bright, skin healthy, and brown hair gelled into a striking style.