“Thanks for dinner,” Jen said, pecking Quint on the cheek as they left El Cantita. It was the perfect time to let Kevorkian loose. The breakup could be quick, painless, and be done early enough so that Jen could have her own Blockbuster night. Instead, she said, “Do you want to come over for a while?” She felt so spineless.
“Umm…sure, but just for a while. I have an early class in the morning.”
“I have a faculty meeting at 7:30, so I have to get up pretty early myself. If you don’t want to, I understand.”
“I’ll be fine. I’d love to come up,” Quint said. He pulled her to him and kissed Jen more passionately than he had in weeks. They both knew it was the last time they’d ever have sex together. Natural causes would kill the relationship — not assisted suicide. Jen wouldn’t need long to mourn the loss.
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It had only been a few days since Adam first sang at Nye’s, but he was dying to return. He wanted that high again. Everything made sense while he was singing. Going from the hallowed halls of KR&S to a tiny office-share with little more than a desk and a computer added to the anxiety Adam felt. As much as Adam wanted to walk away from law, he needed to eat and pay his mortgage, so he’d found some office space on the outskirts of downtown Minneapolis. Tracie and Moody’s former business partner, Chuck Sager, were his only clients. Throughout a particularly hectic day at work, which included a tense two-hour court hearing with the Moody brigade, Adam counted the hours until he could bring out his musical self in an empty lounge filled with cigarette smoke and strangers. He forced himself to wait until nine o’clock before heading to Nye’s.
“Young Bobby D., you’re back,” Eunice called out over the microphone attached to the organ. Buzz, Gloria, and another woman at the piano bar turned toward him, smiled, and waved him over.
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