Let it go to voice mail

Set to vibrate, her phone skipped across the bar top, crashing into the stem of her wine glass. Her boss Sam was calling again. Without picking up the phone, Pauley turned it off, ignoring the blinking voicemail alert. Downing the last swallow of her Merlot, Pauley searched for Ross, the new bartender. He wasn’t the regular Tuesday night guy, and he seemed out-of-place in the noisy bar. Shoving the goblet toward him, Pauley was about to ask for another drink when he sat a highball glass in front of her. “Compliments of the gentleman,” tipping his head toward the right, Ross indicated an overweight man in a badly fitting brown suit, raising his own glass in a salute. She scooped up the glass, and threw back the amber liquid in a single gulp. Spinning off her stool, Pauley wended her way toward the hotel lobby and away from her unwelcome suitor trouble. Just before she passed through the bar entrance,

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