Jameson walked all the way back to Houdini Bar, knowing that his Vespa would still be parked across the street. It was pretty far from Becca’s dorm, about seven blocks, but Jameson was so riled up that he didn’t feel tired when he arrived, only surprised that he’d gotten there so soon.

His red Vespa gleamed in the morning sunshine. He patted it tenderly. “I love you, my little Vespa. You’re always there for me. You’ll never flip out on me and call me a man-slut, will you?”

A shadow fell over him, stopping him mid-croon. Jameson bent back up and shielded his eyes to see who was standing there.

“Old Bess!”

“In the flesh, hon. Speaking of flesh, how did it go last night?”

Jameson smiled ruefully. “It didn’t. I mean, it didn’t go. We didn’t go. I mean – it’s not going to work out, Old Bess. She’s not the girl for me.”

Old Bess stared at him with her wise eyes and then nodded to the bar. “Come on in, you sound like you need a drink.”

“You open this early?”

“Only for emergencies. This qualifies, hon.”