Page 61 of Sunset Beach
“Still doesn’t mean the firm has a legit action against Gulf Vista,” Ben said, wiping his hands on a paper napkin. “The girl was on the clock. Like it or not, it’s a worker’s comp case.”
Jonah shrugged. “The man has a point, Drue.”
Ben pushed his chair away from the table. “You don’t have a case. But you do have, I believe, a car that will start. Want to see?”
“More than anything,” Drue said.
Ben slid behind the steering wheel. With a ridiculously dramatic flourish, he stuck the key in the ignition and turned.
The Bronco’s engine roared to life.
“Hallelujah!” Drue exulted. “OJ has come back from the dead!”
Ben gave it some gas and the motor, miraculously, did not cut off. He got out of the car and Drue impulsively threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
“My hero!”
Ben looked at Jonah, who shrugged. “Looks like our work here is done, Batman.” He picked up his toolbox and headed for Ben’s car.
“Wait,” Drue said. “I need to pay you for the starter. And lunch.”
“Forget it,” Ben said. “I’ll let you take me to dinner one night instead.”
“Just name the night,” Drue said, following him to his Honda.
25
March 1976
The two women turned heads as they walked into Mastry’s Bar, and not just because they were in their work uniforms—white polyester dresses, white hose, white shoes. Both Colleen Boardman Hicks and Vera Cochran were stunners, Colleen with her blond hair, deep tan and short skirt, and Vera with her luscious curves and Cupid’s bow smile.
The lunchtime crowd at Mastry’s was almost exclusively male: some retirees, the geezers who showed up when the bar opened at nine for their breakfast beers; office workers, in dress shirts and ties; cops; mailmen; and a smattering of tourists who’d wandered in off Central Avenue in search of a cold beer and a spring training ball game on the television.
Colleen pointed to a booth at the far wall, and they slid in on opposite sides of the table.
“How did you even find this place?” Vera asked, looking around the dimly lit room.
“Somebody told me they have the best burgers in town,” Colleen said.
“I hope our patients won’t complain when we come back smelling likethe inside of a carton of Salems,” Vera said, waving her hand at the smoke cloud that enveloped the room.
“Don’t be such a prisspot,” Colleen said.
The waitress arrived at the table to take their order.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger, medium, with pickles and mustard. No onions. Do you, uh, have Mateus?” Colleen asked.
“You’re gonna drink wine? In the middle of the day?” Vera looked shocked.
“Not today she’s not,” the redhead said. “We don’t serve wine. You want something else? Beer? Maybe a Bloody Mary?”
“Never mind,” Colleen said. “You’ve got Tab, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then just a cheeseburger and a Tab. Remember, no onions.”
“Got it.”
