“You got dinner plans?”
“No, not really.”
“Good. Follow me. There’s a great Montana-Mex place about twenty miles down I95.”
“The exact place.”
Half an hour later Cortazar had a margarita the size of a small aquarium in front of her. She caught Phyl looking at the bowl-sized glass. “Don’t worry. This’ll take me all night.”
“Okay.” Phyl sipped from her beer bottle.
“You joined the force. How’d that happen?”
Greetings! I’m your friendly, neighborhood Threshold Guardian. This is a protected post and requires either General Membership (free) or a Subscription (various levels). Members and Subscribers can LogIn. Non members can join. All posts are free to all members save certain posts in the My Work category. Enjoy!