Andrew followed Bea’s address orders and arrived at five minutes till eight. The small non-descript Italian restaurant sat between a dry cleaner and hair salon. The weathered rich red brick must have been fifty years old, if not older. A few bistro tables in a variety of colors advertised al fresco seating just by their position on the sidewalk. Classic chianti bottles held plain white wax candles that had melted down the bottle necks. The flames flickered in the gentle evening breeze. Bea sat alone at a green table, sipping a deep rose wine, occasionally twirling the glass and inspecting the jewel toned liquid.
“Does it have legs?” Andrew asked, walking up behind her while putting a hand on Bea’s shoulder.
Bea subtly startled. “Legs? What are you talking about?” Bea looked down quickly toward her legs then back to Andrew.
“Your wine, I meant your wine. You know, does it have legs?”
“I’m quite certain I’m not sure what you mean.” Bea sat the wine glass on the table.
“Please, pick it up and swirl the wine around, I’ll show you what I’m referring to.”
Bea tilted and circled the glass around by the stem as he instructed. “What am I looking for?”
“Really tilt it, give it a good spin so the wine makes it up the sides of the globe.”
Once again she did as he asked, then, Andrew pointed to the inside of the goblet. “Look, can you see how the wine slowly slides back down to the bottom? Those tasty streaks indicate the wine you’re drinking has a healthy alcohol content.”
“I’m guessing healthy is a relative term in this case.”
“Yes, it is. More defined and longer lasting legs indicate higher alcohol content.” Andrew scraped a metal chair across the cement sidewalk to sit closer to Bea. “Have you been here long?”
“Long enough to believe that my wine really does have legs. I should drink it before it runs away.” Bea giggled, and her cheeks bloomed a crimson almost matching the wine.
“I was surprised to receive your message this morning.” Andrew looked around suspiciously. “Is this a set up?”
“No, I honestly felt bad about this morning. I don’t believe you knew that train wreck was coming.”
Andrew’s eyes darkened. “I’d hope not, especially at the expense of one of my men. I’m not that horrible.”