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He set the bowls on the bar top and wiped his hands on his shorts, turning to Clara.
“Hi, I’m Stephano.”
“Clara,” she said, shaking his hand.
“You’re Sly’s friend, huh?”
“We’ve known each other forever. Since high school,” she said.
“Seems like you’ve had plenty of warning then,” Mizzoni said. “I won’t bother.”
“Hey,” I chimed in. “Be nice. I’m a delightful person.”
Clara and Mizzoni both shot me skeptical looks, but Clara’s slid quickly into a smile. “You are.”
“Get you some drinks?” Mizzoni asked, joining me behind the bar and then making a shooing motion like he was trying to get a pesky fly to stop bugging him. I moved back to the other side of the bar and sat next to Clara.
“Margarita?” I suggested, spotting one in front of Gillespie at the other end of the bar.
“That sounds good,” Clara said.
Mizzoni turned to the fancy machine whirring behind him and dispensed two margaritas for us.
“Be careful,” I warned her. “Last time these had an extra kick.”
“No worries, I’ve put a lock on the lid of the machine,” Mizzoni said over his shoulder.
I laughed.
“Your yard is beautiful,” Clara told him, turning on her stool to take in the huge structure that turned the patio into more of an outside living space than a yard, the sparkling pool shining in the late afternoon sun beyond. There were trees and hedges, a wide swath of lush green grass, and flowers blooming around the borders.
“Thank you. It’s become a bit of a refuge.” Mizzoni set drinks in front of us and lifted one for himself, holding it out for a toast. “Thanks for coming,” he said, touching his glass to Clara’s and then mine. “It’s always nice to meet an old friend of a teammate.”
I didn’t like the term “friend” one little bit, but if that was what Clara was going with, I couldn’t really argue.
“Tell us what Sly was like in high school,” Corny suggested, sliding his chair over to sit on Clara’s other side.
“Not necessary,” I suggested.
Clara gave me a smile and then turned to look at Corny and Simpson. “First, what did you decide?” she asked.
“Bigger,” Simpson declared.
“I’m still not sure,” Corny told her.
“You can see my intellect fits right in with this crowd,” I murmured into her ear. She frowned at me, and then swung back around to address my teammates.
“Sly has always been one of the nicest guys I know,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly popular in high school, and he was always kind to me, always friendly.”
“You were popular, Sly?” Corny sounded like this was hard to believe, and I was about to decide whether to make him apologize when Clara spoke again.
“He was the most popular guy in school. Hockey star, prom king—”
“Friend to stray dogs and flightless birds,” Simpson added, his hands over his heart.
“Shut it,” I growled at him. “You too, Clara. You’re ruining my image.”
She laughed and Mizzoni leaned in. “What image do you imagine you’re protecting?”
