“It’s not broken, just bruised.”
“That was a pretty big guy who hit you.”
“Yeah, but look what I did to his door.”
“Well, you really cleaned that door’s clock, but I still think you ought to get your face X-rayed.”
“Dino, when I start relying on you for medical advice, I’ll already be dead.”
“And I’ll be there to say I told you so.”
“I know, I know.” Stone flexed his neck and shoulders.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m sore from hitting the pavement,” Stone said. “I think I need a massage; you know a masseuse?”
“Well, I heard about this place down on First Avenue.”
“Not that kind of masseuse.”
“I’ll check my Rolodex when I get back to my desk.”
“Thanks, pal.” Stone looked up to see a very beautiful woman enter the restaurant. Frank caught his eye and laughed. A moment later, he seated the woman at the table next to Stone’s.
“Good evening,” she said as she sat down.
“Good evening,” Stone responded. He turned back to his bourbon, again flexing his shoulders and neck.
“You look a little stiff,” the woman said. “You should have a massage.”
“You know, I was just telling my friend here that very thing when you walked in.”
She opened her purse and produced a card, handing it to him. It read:
MARILYN
MASSAGE IN YOUR HOME OR OFFICE
Stone smiled. “This is providential. If you’re alone, would you like to join us?”
“Thank you, yes,” she said, rising.
Stone held a chair for her. “My name is Stone Barrington; this is my friend, Dino Bacchetti.”
“I’m Marilyn,” she said.
“Marilyn what?”
“Just Marilyn; it’s easier that way.”
“May I get you a drink?”
“I’d love an appletini,” she said.
Stone ordered th
e drink.