Chapter 13

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“Still as busy as I remember,” Clay commented when he and Quint entered Toppers. “And the majority of the guys are still young.”

“Says the old man of thirty-two.”

“Around here that isold,” Clay replied while searching for an empty table or a couple of seats at the bar.

Quint harrumphed. “I’m old. You’re still in your prime.”

“You’re what? Mid-thirties?”

“Thirty-five and counting. There.” Quint pointed to two men vacating a table not too far from the dance floor.

“Are we drinking?” Clay asked once they were seated. “Can you drink, since I suspect you’re on duty?”

“I can and will,” Quint replied as a waiter appeared. “Beer?” When Clay nodded, Quint ordered for both of them. After the waiter left, Quint said quietly, “Let’s forget why I’m with you. If you think of me as a cop, we won’t be able to pull this off.”

“What? Cops don’t date or go to clubs?” Clay chortled softly.

“We do, but—”