"Well, before or after the ouzo?"
"After."
"Oh, nothing that I'd pass on to anybody." Lynn sat on the couch next to Bean. "I might write about it someday, if I keep the notes."
Bean held out the Saint Christopher medallion, looking it over in her fingers. "How did I wind up with this?"
"Well, darling, that's the best part of the story."
"What do you mean?" Bean asked, afraid of the answer.
"You traded it."
"For what?" said Bean, fearing the worst.
"You're lace underwear." Lynn laughed so hard, she nearly dumped her coffee on the floor. She patted Bean's knee with her hand, giving Bean a little squeeze and a knowing wink. "The waiter thought you needed it to get you home," she punctuated her syllables melodically. "You insisted he take payment for it."
"Oh Christ, no," Bean moaned, putting her hand to her face while rocking uncomfortably on the couch. "I didn't. Please tell me I didn't."
"Well, I could tell you that, but the truth is so much more entertaining."
"Why would I do something like that? Why didn't you stop me."
"Well, you insisted. You know how you are when you've made up that mind of yours."
"That I don't remember," Bean lied, rubbing her red nose with her finger. She sipped her coffee with a smiled, then she stretched her arms in a bone cracking yawn. "Well, I guess forty wasn't nearly as bad afterall. I can't wait for forty-one."
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