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“He’s drunk.”
“Does he need this, then?”
“Just pour him a glass, will you?”
I listen to her retrieve glasses from the cupboard above the sink, add some ice from the freezer compartment of the fridge, then splash some whisky over the top.
“You don’t have to stay,” I mumble.
“We’ll go back down in a bit. But when I’m told that a member has caused a ruckus, I’m obliged to investigate.” Huxley comes over. “Here.”
I sit up, moving back against the pillows, and take the tumbler. “I was drinking gin. I probably shouldn’t mix.”
“I think that’s the least of your problems.”
I look at the whisky. It’s a deep reddish-brown, and it has the distinctive Islay malt peaty smell. It’s probably over twenty years old, and the bottle would have cost over a thousand dollars. Vic knows I have expensive tastes.
I think of Sidnie, and my mood sours even more.
I have a mouthful of the whisky, and sigh as it goes down smooth as silk.
“What happened?” Huxley asks, pulling the chair from the table up to the bed and sitting astride it, his arms on the back, the glass dangling from his fingers. Victoria sits on the bed beside me, also holding a glass.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I snap.
“So it’s your fault?” Huxley asks.
“Fuck off.”
“Right. Did she… mistake your intentions?”
Is he asking if I took advantage of her? “Jesus, no, nothing like that, not that it’s any of your business.”
“It’s my establishment, Mack. I don’t care if we’re friends—I have to make sure everyone on these premises feels safe.”
Hurt at what he’s implying, I glare at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I finish off the whisky and hold the glass out to Vic. She purses her lips, then reaches over with the bottle and pours half an inch in. I put a finger under the base to keep it up, so more of the mahogany liquid sloshes over the ice.
She puts the bottle on the floor and frowns at me. “So what did she do? Or say? I’ve never seen you like this over a woman.”
I let my head fall back onto the headboard with a thump. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” I bang my head again. “You should have let me go after her.”
Huxley gives a short laugh. “In the mood you’re in? Certainly not. When you’ve calmed down and you’re sober, then absolutely I think you should go and apologize.”
“Apologize?” Fury floods me. “You have no idea what she’s done.”
“No, because you won’t tell us,” Vic says. “But face it, Mack, you don’t have a great track record with the way you treat women. You use them, then you discard them like dirty socks.”
The accusation stings because it’s true. She’s never spoken to me like that before, though, and I stare at her, surprised and shocked.
Her expression softens. “I know you’re a busy man, and you don’t want the complications of a relationship, but many of the women you date are interested in more than a one-night stand, and you give no thought to their feelings. You’re one of the good guys in so many ways, and you’re a better man than this. Sidnie left here in floods of tears. Whatever she did, she’s very upset about it. She deserves better.”
I lie back, my heart thumping.
Vic and Huxley exchange a glance. Then she says, “You really like her, don’t you?”
“No.”
“She seemed like a lot of fun. And such crazy hair.”
