Leslie looked around uncomfortably. He didn’t want to wait. “Can you just tell me when she’ll be through?”

“I’ll be right there, Shirley,” Priscilla’s voice came up from the back. She walked out, holding up her hands, covered in plastic gloves and dripping brown goo.

“Hi,” she said.

He held out the flower.

“For me? How nice.” They both looked at her gooey hands, and she lifted up an elbow. He tucked it under her arm. She tried to smell it but was in danger of touching the brown dye to her hair.

“What time you get off?”

“Three.” They both looked at the clock. “I have to finish the head I’m on, then I have another appointment for a cut.”

“C’mon,” he whispered. “Get someone else to do it.”

She giggled. “Leslie, I can’t do that.”

He leaned in close to her, whispered in her ear. “I just gotta have you. Now.”

“Come back at three,” she giggled over her shoulder, with a cute backward glance.

“Okay. Meet me at Mike’s.”

“Okay.” She blew him a kiss.

An hour. Shit. He walked out of the tinkling door and down the street. An hour at Mike’s.

Leslie got the idea when he was taking a whiz about ten o’clock. It was probably the greatest idea of his life. Mike’s was packed as usual, Priscilla was getting giggly and cute as hell, Ned was fuming over in the corner by the old dudes, and Leslie was looking better each time he looked in the men’s-room mirror.

He combed his hair back and admired himself. Yep. One hell of a good idea. We’ll go pay Leon and Martha another little visit. Only this time it won’t be like last time. This time I’ll do the talkin’. He grinned in the mirror, then did a little two-step.

Back at the table he gave his beer away and ordered a cup of coffee from the bar. Priscilla looked bleary-eyed at the coffee. “Coffee?”

“Yeah.” He leaned close to her. “Can’t get too drunk tonight.”

She smiled up at him, brows together in mock seriousness. “Oooh, I know what you mean.” She moved her hand up on his leg.

“Not that, Priscilla. I’m going to pull a job tonight. If you want to come, you better sober up.”

“A job? What kind of a job?”

“You know . . . a job.”

“That kind of a job?”

He nodded. She pushed her beer away and went up to the bar, coming back with a cup of coffee in one hand and the pot in the other. “I’ll be so sober you won’t believe it.”

He patted her ass. God, she had a nice ass. “Good girl.” They sipped coffee quietly and watched the action around them, anticipation growing in both of them.