«Is she still a beauty?» Joe half-lied at the counter. «I haven’t seen her for a while.»
«It was finals week,» sighing, the bartender explained. «My poor girl was working hard.» Another customer called him, and Martin moved to him.
«How stupid,» Jones thought with vexation. «Who is she? The married artist or the professor’s lover? Ah, what the heck! I don’t wanna marry her anyway…» But suddenly he surprised himself, realizing it was what he did want. He was close to his thirties and a life alone was not as attractive as it seemed a few years ago.
«To have our own home,» he dreamed, recalling how skillfully Marina had cleaned the restaurant. «I’m sure, she’d do all the housework the same way. Kids… maybe a dog… an elkhound or husky… Damn, what if she’s married? The last thing that I need is a family scandal. Yes, I saw this man next to Limpson’s daughter. I’m not a coward, but on the other hand I’m not looking forward to fighting that Russian bear. If she’s VanStein’s lover… Heh-heh, it means she’s really good at making love if she was able to seduce such a stern, restrained man. Okay, buddy,» Jones summarized for himself. «I think it will be an even more interesting adventure than I had thought.»
* * * * *
Marina really did not want to go. She did not like Joe, but she had promised. So, at 6:03 p.m. she entered The Shark Pool.
Though Joe Jones kept his eyes on the door, at first he did not recognize Marina, walking in wearing a black silk blouse and bright red leather pants. They made her look so sexy that all the men in the bar turned towards her, and, full with pride, Jones got up and stepped forward, greeting his date.
«Wow!» he said as she came closer. «You’re gorgeous!»
«Thanks.» She sat at the counter, and he placed himself on the next stool.
«Martin,» he called the bartender. «Give the lady a drink on me.» He looked at Marina again. «What would you like? Martin, do you have vodka? I’m afraid not.»
«I have everything,» retorted the bartender, smiling and surveying Marina. He understood now why Joe had asked about the Russians, and he was intrigued no less than Joe.
«I don’t like vodka.» Marina sighed. «I’d like a cocktail with red wine.»
The bartender nodded.
«I see you like the color red,» Joe drawled touching her slender thigh. But the chilly flash of her cabalistic eyes made his skin creep, as if she had pressed a real piece of ice to his body, and he decided in future to keep his hands to himself.
«I’m a chemist.» Marina explained her choice. «I know that red wine is good for health and vodka isn’t.»