If exchanging information with K.J. was what it took to get him clued in, so be it. Also, if he was being entirely honest with himself, he found her pretty damn attractive.
A shower, a shave and a change of clothes later and Tony found himself in the lobby. K.J. was sitting on a maroon leather chair in an elegantly appointed waiting room, spiral bound notepad out, watching, with envy, Tony imagined, as a gentleman on the other side of the room read the Wall Street Journal. Tony pulled up a nearly identical chair next to her. A vase of indeterminate flowers (Tony could never keep his lilies straight from his irises) stood between them on a small end table. Soft classical music was being piped in from places unknown.
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