Thirty minutes, Lia thought as she looked down at her watch. She had thirty minutes to kill before her meet with Jim. She inwardly cursed the smoothness of her morning transactions that had caused her early arrival. 

Jim always insisted on meeting in person, claiming that he didn't trust the mail, or even dead drops. Too many eyes. Too many ears. Lia was pretty sure it was too many hormones. He was always just a little too handsy, a little too friendly for a DFP bribe collector. She'd thought about asking her husband Silvio to begin handling this for her, but things had been so crazy lately. Had she even remembered to tell him she'd gotten her hands on a DPF in the first place?

It wasn't much, just a little morphine, but it never ceased to amaze her when a hefty bundle of cash landed in her hands every day. It was always accompanied by a pang of guilt- not for the drug-addled masses, but for her... what was he, exactly? Co-worker? Friend? He was simply her Sherlock, she supposed. And maybe today's take wasn't supplying him. Maybe today it was cocaine.

She really should upgrade to heroin, she thought as she turned and headed into the bar. She placed her order and headed into the ladies' room, and returned minutes later to find it waiting for her on the bar. She took a seat and tried to parse out the gibberish-slang of the baseball game that emanated from a radio on the back of the bar, when she realized the fellows a couple of barstools down were heatedly discussing her drink.

"...negroni. You ever had one?"

"Nah. What's in it?"

"I can't even remember, man. Tastes like chemical warfare. And it looks like... hey you remember that time Jimmy's guys came to collect on that loan, and I didn't have it? Kicked the living shit out of me, and I pissed blood the next day? Tell me that doesn't look like kidney damage in the works," he guffawed. Lia heard a creak as the other man turned on his barstool to have a look. She looked down at her drink then, and wondered why she'd ever ordered one. Was it at a party? Some club somewhere? No, it had been the drink of choice of one of her suitors, maybe a year, year and a half ago now. Back in Italy, right before her father found out about him and he simply...disappeared.

Lia pushed the drink away and politely raised her hand to get the bartender's attention.

"I don't need this." I never needed this. "I'll pay for it, though." I've been paying for it for a year and a half, and I didn't even realize it. "May I have a glass of wine, instead? Red, if you've got it." Jim walked in then, and she cringed a bit when he sat down next to her, dragging his hand across her back as he sat. It made her skin crawl.

"What's this, for me?" He asked, then took a hearty swig of the negroni. His face twisted immediately into a pucker. "Jesus, that's sour," he said, then, oddly enough, he tilted back the rest of it. Lia shook her head, then placed the packet of cash she'd just pulled out of her purse onto his lap. His hand snaked out and grabbed onto hers before she could pull it away. 

"What's the rush? You're not leaving, are you? You haven't even touched your wine, there," he said, nodding at her glass. She hadn't paid for it yet, either, and it had been her intention to scoot out and stick him with the tab. Sighing, she picked it up and swallowed half the contents. Her skin crawled some more, where his hand was touching hers, and the Model 27 resting against her ribcage felt suddenly warm. Just as her fingers began to reach inside her jacket for it- just a reassurance, nothing more, she told herself- he let go of her hand and reached inside his own, pulling out a wallet.

"Look! You haven't seen the newest pictures of the kids," he said, flipping it open and turning it so she could see. 

"Oh, yes, so cute," she said, smiling. And they were, but why was he showing her his kids? This was a blackmail transaction, not a date. Jim's wife was dead, and that was just awful, but Lia was not a potential candidate to step into the role of mommy for his kids. She was married, and even if she wasn't, how would he tell people how they'd met? 'Oh, funny story, haha, you'll get a kick out of this one... Lia here is a drug dealer, and I'm the dirty cop on the take who looks the other way as she breaks the law!' 

"I really have to be going. My husband is waiting for me. See you next time," she said, throwing down money and standing as she spoke, leaving no room for him to interrupt or stop her, not without causing a scene. He looked after her stupidly, and Lia had a moment to wonder if it was a natural look for him, or the effects of the drink.

There would be no next time, she would see to that, she thought as she stepped outside. Sliding sunglasses onto her face as she stepped through doors was becoming a habit, one she'd acquired not here, but in Cabo, of all places. 

No more grabby hands, no more Jim, no more negronis. Walking briskly towards the HQ in the blazing Nevada heat, she decided then and there that she wouldn't go running to her husband, either. Instead, she would handle it in her own way. She had a little cash, now, and she could afford some bodyguards. 

One of them would be assigned to dealing with that fucking negroni drinker.