Espresso Shot Read Online Free PDF Page B

surprised.

    Roger smiled. “In Kenya, I go to bed when the sun sets, and get up before it rises. I’m too old for late nights.” Then he laughed. “Or maybe it’s simply a case of jet lag.”

    He gave me a hug, pecked me on the cheek. “I’ll see you at the luncheon, Clare. And Madame, as well.”

    Roger’s departure was followed by some of the other older partygoers, who also bade me good night. There were empty beer pitchers and glasses everywhere. The party banner had fluttered to the floor, and I found Matt speaking with Dexter Beatty, a Jamaican who sold Caribbean coffees out of three Brooklyn locations. Forty-something, tall, and scarecrow-thin, Dexter almost always displayed a wide grin under his wild Rasta dreadlocks.

    “If your new wife can dance like that sweet thing, you are the luckiest dude alive!” Dexter said, knocking Matt’s fist. “See you at Thursday’s luncheon, mon. And congratulations!”

    Matt turned to face me, opened his mouth to speak. Then Koa draped a big arm around his neck, and said, “Okay, bro, now that we got you all hot and bothered, it’s time for the main event. We’re taking you to Scores!”

    The remaining men around us hooted.

    “The night is on me,” Koa vowed. “So hand your wallet over to Clare. I won’t take no for an answer”—he winked in my direction—“and neither will she.”

    I stepped forward, palm up, hand extended.

    “Koa, my brother, you’re the best,” Matt said, rubbing his bleary eyes. “But I’m not going to Scores with you.”

    Koa looked stricken. “Dude! You can’t be serious.”

    Matt shrugged apologetically. “With the wedding and my daughter coming in, I’ve got too much to do. I’ve been going since sunup. It’s time for me to call it a night.”

    “No Scores?” Men groaned in disappointment.

    “Just for me, guys,” Matt insisted. He smiled at Koa. “You all go. Have a blast.”

    Koa considered Matt and nodded. “Okay, bro. It’s your party . . . but we’re gonna keep it going!” Grinning, he turned to face the others. “Dudes, it’s on! The girls are waiting!”

    With more good-byes and congratulations, the men filed out. After everyone was gone, I sidled up to Matt.

    “That’s a shocker.”

    “What?”

    “ You —not going to a gentlemen’s club with your hammered brethren.”

    Matt folded his arms. “You’ve got something to say about it?”

    “I don’t believe it, that’s all.” I shook my head. “The eternal boy is all growed up .”

    Matt rolled his eyes. “Again with the ‘eternal boy.’ ”

    “Would you rather I use the Latin?” I couldn’t help needling him—just a little. “Puer aeternus? A man stuck in the adolescent phase of his life.”

    “I’d rather you get off my back. Believe me, on any other night, I would have gladly gone out with Koa and the guys, but . . .” He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck.

    “But?”

    “But the sight of that fake Breanne put the fear of bridezilla into me, okay?” He shook his head. “It simply occurred to me that one wild night isn’t worth the hell storm that could come down on my head. I’m looking forward to my wedding on Saturday, the Barcelona honeymoon. Why do I need trouble this week?”

    “Sounds like a reasoned, mature decision.” I smiled then lightly elbowed his six-pack. “Not bad for a man who’s chugged as many beers as you have.”

    Matt finally laughed. Then the pendulum clock on the wall began to bong the hour. “It’s eleven already. Let’s get out of here.”

    The front barroom was much busier now and much louder. Tables and chairs were occupied by a mixed group of college kids and older drinkers. As we moved through, I tapped Matt’s shoulder.

    “Give me a second, okay? I want to use the restroom.”

    “Yeah, me, too. Chugging beer has its consequences. Meet you at the front door.”

    I waked past the Dylan Thomas shrine again and into a small, adjoining back area that held an alcove