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“I told you,” Winnie says.
(Should he tell her? Should he tell her he met Amber Anders at the press conference? If he’s going to tell her, now is the time. What if Amber tells Winnie she met James? What if she tells her she fucked James? If she tells Winnie she met James, Winnie will wonder why James didn’t tell her first.) “I met someone who works in your office,” he says.
“Who?”
“Andy . . . Amber something . . . ?”
“Amber Anders,” Winnie says.
“I think that’s it.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing,” James says. “She said she read my piece on satellites.”
“She’ll probably plagiarize it. She was the one who plagiarized my piece. I’m trying to get rid of her, but I can’t.”
“You should,” James says. “She seems kind of crazy.”
“She’s worse than Evie.”
“Do you think Evie slept with Tanner?”
“I have no idea,” Winnie says. She picks up a few beads and threads them onto the cord. (She thinks about Tanner. How he was so strong; he kept gently picking her up and moving her into different positions. He knelt over her like a god. He overwhelmed her. He kissed her neck until she thought she was going to swoon. She did swoon. She slid off the chair onto the floor, and that’s when he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. She was incapable of protest.)
“I bet he didn’t,” James says. “Evie’s a little too close to home. Even for Tanner. She’s your sister.”
“You think so?” Winnie says.
(She’s not even yelling, he thinks. Maybe he is going to get away with this after all.)
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
He passes the living room. Clay is sleeping on the couch. Did he fuck Evie? When James had left Tanner’s hotel room last night, Clay and Evie were still there. Would they (Clay and Evie) really do that?
Christ. He’d wanted to fuck Evie. For about two seconds. But then he’d started talking to Tanner about that monkey shit. And alpha males. What the hell was he talking about?
(What if he had slept with Evie? Winnie’s sister. It would be like Tanner sleeping with Winnie.)
He goes into the bedroom. It’s clean. And neat. His glasses are on the night table next to the bed, along with his black Braun traveling alarm clock and three old business magazines he keeps meaning to get through. Winnie’s shoes are on the floor. The strappy sandals he gave her for her birthday.
Suddenly he feels okay. Maybe he didn’t fuck up after all.
When he comes out of the bathroom, he can hear Winnie on the phone. “I’ll send him home as soon as he wakes up,” she’s saying. “Oh God, Veronica. I don’t know. I don’t give a shit anymore. . . . I know, but maybe you should try to have the same attitude. Maybe you should go out and fuck someone else.”
“Veronica,” Winnie says as James passes by on his way to his little office. He nods. “I don’t think we should get involved.”
“Neither do I,” Winnie says. “I don’t give a shit.”
James sits down at his desk. He turns on his computer. The phone rings
again. Shit, he thinks. What if it’s Amber? He didn’t give her his number. But she might have Winnie’s number.
They work in the same office.
He’s just being paranoid. Amber isn’t going to say anything. She’s not that kind of girl.
