reading, but then he wasn’t a judge. For the time being Al had suggested he remain in New York and avoid the summons that awaited him, at least until his lawyer had a chance to straighten things out and avoid a litigious quagmire.
CJ didn’t know how palatable that was, and suspected that being dragged through a court proceeding—even one that would cost him a great deal—might be preferable. For now, though, he tried to put such thoughts out of his head, happy to be amid the jumble of people who occupied his immediate circle.
“CJ, how about some darts?” someone called over the music. Without looking to see who it was, CJ slid from his seat and ambled over to the dart board, where a jolly-looking bearded fellow stood. The man extended three darts toward CJ.
“Thank you, Santa,” CJ said as he took them, which brought a hearty round of laughter from everyone within earshot. CJ stepped up to the line, took a moment to steady the hand holding the dart, and let fly with a double twenty.
“I’m done,” he said, turning as if he was about to hand the darts back to his opponent. In short order, though, he followed his first shot with two more, his next sinking the final twenty he needed, which raised expectations for his third attempt—which only made it more disappointing when the dart struck the board, clung there briefly before it tumbled to the floor amid a collective groan from the bystanders.
Santa laughed, gave CJ a clap on the shoulder that nearly put it out of its socket, and proceeded to close out the twenty, nineteen, and eighteen in three throws.
“I’m about to get my backside handed to me, aren’t I?” CJ asked as the bearded man returned to his barstool.
“You know it, writer man,” his opponent said.
The game was over soon afterward, and despite the sound thumping, CJ smiled more in those few minutes than he had in a long while. Magnanimous in defeat, CJ bought a drink for his conqueror and set off for the nearest unoccupied stool.
As luck would have it, he found one next to an attractive young woman. He claimed the seat, offered her as charming a smile as he was able. Then, just as he was about to strike up a conversation with her, he caught sight of someone stepping through the door.
“Hello, Pop,” CJ said, once George had made it across the room.
George gave him a once-over and shook his head. But the sight of his son in such a state didn’t stop him from raising a hand to Rick.
“The usual, George?”
“Thanks, Rick,” George answered, and he didn’t talk again until Rick slid a bourbon across the counter. George dropped a ten, picked up the drink, and turned to his son. “You should go back to your hotel.”
“I’m having far too good a time to do that,” CJ said, but a worried frown instantly replaced his grin. He was trying to remember when he’d last let Thor out. Recalling that it had been during the transit from the VFW to here, he felt a little better. “You aren’t worried I’m going to steal all your friends, are you, Pop?”
He laughed then—and the laughter grew as he saw the effect it had on his father. He remembered how George used to hate it when CJ called him Pop. George didn’t say anything while his son composed himself. Instead he sipped his bourbon and took in the whole of the room.
When the laughter finally faded, CJ decided to offer his father an olive branch of sorts. But just as he was about to speak, his phone rang. In truth, it might have been ringing for a while, but with the laughter, as well as the ambient noise of the place, he hadn’t heard it. He checked the number, and after an apologetic shrug toward his father, he got up and headed for the door, putting the phone to his ear.
“I can barely hear you,” he shouted into the phone. “I’m in . . . What? Wait a minute, okay?”
The air on the sidewalk had a bite to it yet it felt good. CJ hadn’t realized how hot it was inside the bar.
“Hi, Janet,” he said, a little too loudly.
“CJ, where are you?”
He paused and looked around, taking in his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. “I’m standing on a sidewalk outside of a very loud bar. It’s cold, and it smells funny.” CJ realized the odd