It was just like every other night at Elaine’s, except for the three hundred extra people.
Stone had ordered the most expensive wines, because he knew Elaine would have loved that. She had liked nothing better than flogging a few bottles of Dom Perignon of an evening.
Holly hugged Stone’s arm. “I’m sorry, Stone, I know how you loved Elaine and her joint.”
“That’s what she always called it,” Stone said, “her joint.”
Dino poured himself another Johnnie Walker Black from the bottle on the table.
“Can I get you a straw for that?” Stone asked.
Dino handed him a bottle of Knob Creek. “And for this?”
A good-looking redhead Stone didn’t recognize struggled past his table, heading for either the bar or the front door. Stone was still watching her a moment later when she was stopped by a man who had planted himself in her path. He leaned over and shouted above the din into her ear. She drew back her right hand and punched him squarely in the face. He fell, scattering drinkers, and Stone could have sworn she stepped on him as she continued out the door.
The man was helped to his feet, swearing, his nose bloody, shouting unpleasant descriptions of the redhead to anyone who would listen.
“Did you see that?” Holly asked.
“I did.”
“She looked familiar. Do you know her?”
Stone shook his head. “Nope, I don’t know any redheads.”
“Maybe she wasn’t always a redhead,” Holly said.
“Who knows? I don’t know three-quarters of the people in here.”