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"I have heard tales of a scandalous affair involving Mr. Montgomery and a woman of questionable reputation in his younger days."
"It is quite clear that he is a man with many secrets."
They turned around and saw me, and one of them—a big ol' fella in a fancy vest, his eye accentuated by a ridiculous monocle, scowled.
I took off running quicker than a spooked hen.
Trying to shake off the heaviness of the air, I approached a group of people near the bar.
"Hey there," I said, raising my voice and giving in to the sudden burst of social energy. "What's everyone drinking?"
One of the men in the group turned to me and grinned. "Whiskey, of course. We're in the south, honey. What else would we be drinking?"
I chuckled and shook my head. "I shoulda known better. Make mine a double."
A few drinks later, my bladder had a mind of its own. I rushed out of the salon and found myself in a maze of a corridor. Where the hell was the washroom?
I was about to give up when one of the doors burst open and Harold stormed out, his face red, angry, and unlike anything I'd ever seen before.
Something made me hide behind the wall opposite the room.
A young man followed him his hands bunched into fists.
"You're gonna regret this. You hear me?"
I realized I knew his face. And it was one of the few things I wanted to forget most in the world.
