9
Jack stood at the bar nursing a watery Coors Light as he went over his options. At least it was better than an even more watery Bud Light from the ruinators of Rolling Rock.
The neon Corona clock on the wall behind the bar said 6:30. Still about an hour until sunset. But from what Christy had told him, if Bolton was coming in, he would have shown by now.
Reminded of Christy, Jack pulled out his phone and called her numbers again. Still no answer. Rehearsal was dragging on. At least he hoped it was rehearsal.
Someone eased over and leaned against the bar beside him: Dirty Danny.
"Need any party supplies?"
"Nope. Sorry. No one's invited me to any parties lately."
Danny gave him a yellow grin. "Well, then have one of your own. That's what I'd do."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Well, you need anything, you know where to find me."
Danny moved on and Jack decided he was tired of Queens, tired of wasting his time waiting for people to answer their phones or show up in bars. Time to head home and see if Gia had any plans for dinner. If nothing was on the stove yet, they could head down to Little Italy where Vicky could chow down on Amalia's mussels in garlic sauce.
He left the rest of the beer wannabe on the bar and headed for the door.