“You’ll see her again. Fate works like that. Well, Gloria doesn’t want to sit around here and listen to us gab about your love life. Do you, sweetie?”
“Actually, I don’t mind. It must be nice.”
“Honey, you ain’t gonna find a guy if you’re sitting here all the time.”
“But I like it here. It’s like home.”
“How many men have you met at home?”
“Okay, okay. Jayme and I are going out next week.”
“Where is Jayme tonight?” Adam inquired.
“It’s an ‘X-Files’ marathon on the Sci-Fi channel.”
“I’m glad it’s just the two of us tonight,” Adam said. Gloria blushed and smiled. “I want to sing a duet with you. What d’ya say?”
“I thought you’d never ask. How about ‘Love Will Keep Us Together?’ Do you know that one, Eunice?”
“I partied with the Captain and Tenille when they were practically kids,” she said, her fingers nimbly attacking the keyboard.
After they finished the song, Adam noticed that the applause was much louder than it had been on any other weekday evening. “Is it more crowded here, or am I just imagining things?” he asked.
Just then, Madge, an older, crusty-voiced waitress swaggered up to him and handed him a drink. “Here’s a vodka for you, compliments of Jimmy.”
Jimmy Przybylski (pronounced Sha-bill-ski), the 52-year-old nephew of one of one of Nye’s founders, and the joint’s current owner, nodded to Adam, held up a glass of his own, and mouthed, “Salut.”
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