“Yes, Cassandra?”
“If you don’t mind, can we head out of here after you finish your drink? There are a couple other places I’d like to hit tonight . . . you know, to show you off a little?”
“No problem.” I said, “but it might take a while.”
Somehow, during the last flurry of discussions, my two drinks had multiplied into four.
“Oh, I’m in no hurry.” she said, giving me a quick kiss. “I know you’ve got to deal with some of these people now that they know who you are. It goes with the notoriety. It may be old hat to you, but I’m having a blast!”
To say the least, it wasn’t old hat to me. Maybe if it was, I would have handled it better.
I remember signing my name a lot ... and some more drinks being delivered . . . and kissing Cassandra . . . and, I think, another club . . . or two other clubs . . . and more drinks . . .
Chapter Ten
“Happiness is defined by one’s capacity for enjoyment.”
Bacchus
OPENING MY EYES, I suffered a brief moment of disorientation, then things started swimming into focus.
I was in my room ... in my own bed, to be specific, though the covers seemed to be twisted and disheveled. I was naked under the covers, though I had no recollection of getting undressed. I assumed it was morning, as there was sunlight streaming through the window. In short, everything looked normal.
So why did I feel there was something wrong?
I was lying on my side, and I realized my sinuses had flooded, making it impossible to breathe out of the nostril on the “downhill” side. In an effort to alleviate this situation, I rolled over and . . .
It hit me!!!
A pounding headache ... a nauseous stomach . . . the works!
There had been times in the past when I had gotten sick, but nothing like this! At first I was afraid I was going to die. Then I was afraid I’d live. Misery such as I was feeling should have a finite end.
Groaning slightly and burrowing into my pillow, I tried to gather my thoughts.
What was going on here? What happened to make me feel . . .
Suddenly, the memory of the previous night flashed across my mind ... or, at least, the beginning of it.
The blind date . . . The Wooden Stake . . . the admiring crowds . . . Cassandra!
I sat bolt upright and . . .
Big mistake. BIG mistake.
Every pain and queasiness I had been feeling slammed into me threefold. With a moan, I fell limply back onto my pillow heedless of the new unpleasant sensations this move caused. You could only feel so miserable, and I had bottomed out. Nothing could make me feel worse. Forget any effort at rational thought. I was just going to lie there until my head cleared or I died . . . whichever came first.
A knock sounded at the door.
Disoriented as I was, I had no difficulty deciding what to do: I was going to ignore it. I was certainly in no condition to see or talk to anyone!
The knock came again, a little louder this time.
“Skeeve? Are you awake?”
It was Bunny’s voice. From what I could recall of the beginning of last evening, I really didn’t want to talk to her right now. All I needed to make my misery complete was to have her carping on me about my taste in dates.
“Go away!” I called, not even bothering to try to make it sound polite.
As soon as I uttered the words, however, I realized I would have been better off just staying quiet. Not only had the effort increased the pounding in my head, I had inadvertently let her know I was awake.
As if in response to my afterthought, the door opened and Bunny came in, a big tray of food in her hands.
“When I didn’t see you at breakfast or at lunch, I figured you might be a little worse for wear from last night,” she said crisply, setting the tray on my desk. “I had the kitchen put together a tray for you to help you back to the land of the living.”
Food was definitely low on my list of priorities at the moment. If anything, I was more concerned with things going the other way through my digestive tract. It did however, suddenly occur to me that I was thirsty. In fact, VERY thirsty.
“Have you got any juice on that tray?” I managed weakly, not wanting to sit up far enough to look myself.
“Do you want orange or tomato?”
The mention of tomato juice brought memories of last night’s Bloody Marys to mind, and my stomach did a slow roll and dip to the left.
“Orange will be fine,” I said through gritted teeth, trying hard to talk, keep my mouth shut, and swallow at the same time.
She favored me with a speculative glance.
“Well, it wasn’t Screwdrivers or Mimosas.”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind. Orange juice, coming up.”
I could have done without the “coming up” comment, but the juice tasted fine. I downed it in two long swallows. Strangely enough, it left me even more thirsty. Not that the juice wasn’t a welcome input of cool moisture, but it made me realize just how dehydrated I was.
“Any more of that?” I said hopefully.
“Got a whole pitcher here,” Bunny replied, gesturing toward the tray. “I had a hunch you were going to need more than one glass. Take it slow, though. I don’t think it would be a good idea to gulp down a lot of cold liquid just yet.”
I resisted the urge to grab the entire pitcher from her, and instead simply held out my glass for a refill. With a major effort, I did my best to comply with her suggestion and sipped it slowly. It lasted a little longer that way, and did seem to have a greater effect.
“That’s better,” she said, refilling the glass again without being asked. “So. Did you have a good time last night?”
I paused in mid-sip, trying to force my brain to function.
“To be honest with you, Bunny, I don’t know,” I admitted at last.
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“What I remember was okay,” I said, “but after a certain point in the evening, everything’s a blank. I’m not even sure exactly when that point was, for that matter. Things are a bit jumbled in my mind still.”
“I see.”
For a moment, Bunny seemed about to say something else, but instead she pursed her lips and wandered over to the window where she stood staring out.
My head was clearing now, to a point where I felt almost alive, and I decided it was time to try to set things right.
“Um . . . Bunny? About last night . . . I’m sorry I left you standing like that, but Vic had set up the date for me, and there was no real way to back out gracefully.”
“Of course, the fact that she was quite a dish had nothing to do with it,” Bunny commented with a grimace.
“Well ...”
“Don’t worry about it, Skeeve,” she said quickly, waving off my reply. “That’s not what’s bothering me, anyway.”
“What is?”
She turned to face me, leaning back on the windowsill.
“It’s the same thing that’s been bothering me ever since I arrived for this assignment,” she said. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, because it’s really none of my business. But if what you say about last night is true ...”
She broke off, biting her lip slightly.
“Go on,” I said.
“Well . . . Simply put, I think you’re developing a drinking problem.”
That one caught me off guard. I had been half expecting her to make some comment about how little I was helping on the kingdom’s finances, or even the parade of women I seemed to be suddenly confronted with. It had never occurred to me that she might be taking affront at my personal habits.
“I . . .I don’t know what to say, Bunny. I mean, sure, I drink. But everybody drinks a little from time to time.”
“A little?”
She came off the windowsill in one easy motion and came to perch on the edge of my bed.
“Skeeve, every time I see you lately you’ve got a goblet of wine i
n your hand. It’s gotten so that your idea of saying ‘Hello’ to someone is to offer them a drink.”
I was really confused now. When she first mentioned my drinking, my immediate reaction was that she was being an alarmist. The more she talked, however, the more I found myself wondering if she might have a point.
“That’s just being hospitable,” I said, stalling for time to think.
“Not when you’re making the offer first thing in the morning,” she snapped. “Definitely not when you go ahead and have a drink yourself, whether they join you or not.”
“Aahz drinks,” I countered, starting to feel defensive. “He says the water on most dimensions isn’t to be trusted.”
“This is your home dimension, Skeeve. You should be used to the water here. Besides, Aahz is a Pervect. His whole metabolism is different from yours. He can handle drinking.”
“And I can’t. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
The misery I had been feeling since I awoke was now taking the form of anger and annoyance.
“Check me on this,” she said. “From what I’ve heard, during your recent trip to Perv, you got into a fight didn’t you? After you’d been drinking?”
“Well . . . Yes. But I’ve been in fights before.”
“From what I hear, if Kalvin, the Djinn, hadn’t sobered you up, you might not have survived this one. True?”
She had a point there. The situation had been a bit hairy. I had to admit that my odds of surviving the brawl would have gone way down if I hadn’t been jerked back to sobriety by Kalvin’s spell.
I nodded my agreement.
“Then there’s last night,” she continued. “You really wanted to make a good impression on someone. You dressed up in one of your spiffiest outfits, probably dropped a fair hunk of change, and then what? From the sounds of it, you got carried away with the drinking until you can’t even remember what happened. You don’t even know what went on, much less whether or not your date had a good time. That doesn’t sound like you ... at least, the you that you’d like people to remember.”
I was starting to feel really low, and not just from the aftereffects of the night before. I had always thought my drinking was a harmless diversion . . . or, more lately, a way to ease the pressures of the problems confronting me. It had never occurred to me how it might look to others. Now that I was thinking about it, the picture wasn’t very pleasant.
Unfortunately, I was still a little reluctant to admit that to Bunny.
“One of the things I do remember about last night is that people kept buying me drinks,” I said defensively. “It kind of caught me by surprise, and I thought it would be rude to refuse.”
“Even if you have to accept drinks to be social, there’s nothing that says what you drink has to be alcoholic,” Bunny shot back. “There are other things to drink, you know. You could always just have a soft drink or some fruit juice.”
Suddenly, I was very tired. Between my hangover and the new thoughts that had been thrust upon me, what little energy I had when I awoke was now depleted.
“Bunny,” I said, “I’m really not up to arguing with you right now. You’ve raised some interesting points, and I appreciate your bringing them to my attention. Give me some time to think about them. Okay? At the moment, all I want to do is curl up and die for a while.”
To her credit, Bunny didn’t continue to push her case. Instead, she became extremely solicitous.
“I’m sorry, Skeeve,” she said, laying a hand on my arm. “I didn’t mean to jump you like that while you were still drying out. Is there anything I can get you? A cold washrag, maybe?”
Actually, that sounded like a wonderful idea.
“If you would, please. I’d really appreciate it.”
She hopped off the bed and made for the washstand while I tried to find a more comfortable position.
After rearranging the pillows, I glanced over to see what was keeping her, only to find her standing stock still, staring at the wall.
“Bunny? Is there something wrong?” I called.
“I guess I was wrong,” she said in a strange tone, still staring at the wall.
“How’s that?”
“When I said you probably left a bad impression on your date ... I think I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I take it you haven’t seen this.”
She gestured at the wall over the washstand. I squinted slightly and focused my still-bleary eyes on the spot she was indicating.
Written on the wall, in bright red lipstick, was a note.
Skeeve,
Sorry to go, but I didn’t want to wake you. Last night was magic. You’re as good as your rep. Let me know when you want to play some more.
Cassandra
I found myself smirking as I read the note.
“Well, I guess she wasn’t too upset with my drinking. Eh, Bunny?”
There was no answer.
“Bunny?”
I tore my eyes away from the message and glanced around the room. The tray was still there, but Bunny wasn’t. With the door standing open, the only logical conclusion was that she had left without saying a word.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so smug anymore.
Chapter Eleven
“If labor and management communicated better, there would be fewer terminations.”
J. Hoffa
“Hi, BUTTERCUP, How’s it going, fellah?”
The war unicorn raised his head and stared at me for a moment, then went back to eating from his feed bin.
“Com’on, fellah. You know me,” I urged.
The unicorn continued eating, ignoring me completely.
“Don’t worry, Boss.” came a squeaky voice from behind me. “Unicorns are like that.”
I didn’t have to look to see who the voice belonged to, but turned to face my bodyguard anyway.
“Hi, Nunzio,” I said. “What was that about unicorns?”
“They’re temperamental,” he explained with a shrug. “War unicorns like Buttercup are no exception. He’s just giving you a rough time because you haven’t been visiting him much.”
One of the assorted things I had learned about Nunzio’s past was that at one time he had been an animal trainer, so I tended to believe him. I was a little disappointed, however. I had been hoping that Buttercup’s reaction to me would provide a confirmation as to what did or didn’t happen between Cassandra and me the night before, but it seemed there were other, more rational, possible reasons for his standoffishness.
Of course, fast on the heels of my disappointment came a surge of guilt. I had been neglecting my pets badly . . . along with a lot of other things.
“That reminds me, Nunzio,” I said, eager to shift the guilt, “how are you doing with Gleep?”
My bodyguard frowned and wiped a massive hand across his mouth and chin in thought.
“I dunno, Boss,” he said. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s somethin’ wrong there. He just don’t feel right lately.”
Strangely enough, that made sense. In fact, Nunzio had managed to put into words my own nebulous concerns about my pet ... he didn’t feel right.
“Maybe we’re going about this wrong,” I said. “Maybe instead of trying to pin down what’s wrong with him now, we should try to backtrack a bit.”
“I don’t quite follow you,” my bodyguard scowled.
“Think back, Nunzio,” I urged. When did you first notice that Gleep wasn’t acting normal?”
“Well ... he seemed okay when Markie was around,” he said thoughtfully. “In fact, if you think about it, he was the first of us to figure she wasn’t on the up and up.”
Something flitted across my mind along with that memory, but Nunzio kept talking and it disappeared again.
“I’d have to say it was right after that job when him and me was guarding that warehouse. You remember? With the forged comic books?”
“Was he all right on that assig
nment?”
“Sure. I remember talkin’ with him quite a bit while we was sittin’ around doin’ nothin’. He was fine then.”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “You were talking with Gleep?”
“I guess it was more like talkin’ to him, since he doesn’t really answer back.” Nunzio corrected himself easily. “You know what I mean, Boss. Anyway, I spent a lot of time talkin’ to him, and he seemed okay then. In fact, he seemed to listen real close.”
“What did you talk to him about?”
My bodyguard hesitated, then glanced away quickly.
“Oh . . . this and that,” he said with an exaggerated shrug. “I really can’t remember for sure.”
“Nunzio,” I said, letting a note of sternness creep into my voice, “if you can remember, tell me. It’s important.”
“Well ... I was goin’ on a bit about how worried I was about you, Boss,” Nunzio admitted hesitantly. “You remember how you was right after we decided to incorporate? How you was gettin’ so wrapped up in work that you didn’t have much time for anything or anyone else? I just unloaded on Gleep a bit about how I didn’t think it was healthy for you, is all. I didn’t think it would hurt nothin’. That’s why I did my talkin’ in front of him and not anyone else on the team . . . even Guido.”
There were clear images dancing in my head now. Pictures of Gleep breathing fire at Markie . . . who only escaped narrowly when Nunzio intervened . . . and of my pet throwing himself in front of me when another, larger dragon was on the brink of making me extinct.
“Think carefully, Nunzio.” I said slowly. “When you were talking to Gleep, did you say anything . . . anything at all ... about the possibility of Tananda or anyone else on the team being a threat to me?”
My bodyguard frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then shook his head.
“I don’t remember sayin’ anything like that, Boss. Why do you ask?”
Now it was my turn to hesitate. The idea that was taking shape in my mind seemed almost too silly to voice. Still, since I was turning to Nunzio for advice and expertise, it was only fair to share my suspicions with him.
Sweet Myth-tery of Life Page 9
