Exton

My sister, you should know, shares some of my less attractive character traits.

Like stubbornness.

"Raina, this is a public place, a legitimate place of business. You can't just stroll over to his table and demand his life story. And if you do, he's not obligated to tell you the truth - or anything else. He can clam up and there's nothing you can do about it.

Yes, he's an arrogant asshole. The world is full of them. You can't just lop their heads off when you find one; the authorities tend to frown on things like that."

She starts to argue back when I notice that Star is no longer at our table. Instead, she's gone over to where the Riders have congregated, and is playing with - HOLY SHIT! - three Hounds that combine the least attractive traits of the Doberman pinscher and the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

I hold up a hand to stem the flow of words. "Hold that thought. I'll be back."

I walk through the crowded room to where Star is now stroking the muzzle of Poochy the Pup, who has a muzzle a crocodile would be proud to claim. He looks ecstatic, she looks calm; I'm about to piss my pants.

Something warns her - that sixth, seventh or maybe eighth sense she seems to have - and she gets up and meets me halfway. I pull her close and hug her tight and walk her back to our table. "Babe, you want to be careful with the Hounds; they're not just your typical doggies."

She looks up at me with a smile. "Yes, they are."

I throw up my hands - metaphorically, you understand. Why do all the women in my life want to argue with me?