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Show Coffee Drinkers Preferred .- Page 110 of 307 We have to drink to survive. We're going to die. The Buddha of Oaxaca could be so overly dramatic. "No." It was ten that night when I saw someone who came close to looking like Sariah. The hair was cut differently, but blond. She wore bangs and the rest of it was bobbed just at the line of her smooth jaw. Steve had sent me here. Maybe he'd known where to find her or maybe I was just getting punch drunk on a day filled with too much smoke, too many bells, too many flashing lights and way too much club soda. I had drunk enough club soda that day to kill a man. It's hard to blend in at a casino without drinking something, even if what I chose to drink caused my little Buddha to whimper sadly with each sip. I pulled out my phone and held it to my ear like I was talking to someone. I started snapping pictures. She was a cocktail waitress and she must have just come on at ten. She worked the graveyard. I was staked out at a machine that gave me a vantage of the main bar in the casino and a minor bar up against'the far wall. Over the next hour I snapped about forty pictures of air, slot machines and fat people. I kept missing her. It's hard to shoot pictures of someone you are not looking at, especially when they are rushing drinks around on an orange tray. Eight of the pictures were worth sending to Steve. |