Nuno had actually been climbing into bed when his phone went off. As he had been in a yelling match with his best friend slash platonic life partner over the finer points of roasting or grilling vegetables, he looked immediately. He was shocked when it was a certain lovely lady who was older than anything that should look that bad ass in boots. Asking to play some pool. His lip quirked up as he replied to the "booty call" as these messages became known as and put his pants back on. The things he did for his friends. But Jay was someone he sort of clung to like a limpet when he first discovered that Atlantic City was hiding an underbelly that was more interesting than the mafia underbelly. Ain't that some shit.
He had two days off back to back (he did not trust this) and no plans for them. Getting his ass handed to him at pool seemed like a wonderful way to start off his time off. So he climbed into his truck and headed to the bar. It was not hard to notice Jay. Mostly because the people who did turn to look at the scrawny, black haired man wearing faded skinny jeans and looked like a reject from a defunked punk band looked as old as his friend was. That, and she was playing with the cue stick like it was a weapon. The man ordered two shots and a beer before he strolled over to where Jay stood and leaned against a nearby table.
"Hey, gorgeous. You come here often," he asked with his cheeks creasing with deep dimples as she handed her the glass of dark rum.