Split Second
Page 52
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She was staring at herself again in the mirror, but this time she saw only a distorted outline of her face. She raised her fingers to touch her cheek, to make sure it was really there. “What I do is financial analysis,” she said. “I review companies’ sales trends and projections, stuff so boring I bet I could out-scuttle a gerbil on a treadmill.” She looked around. “I don’t see anybody I know tonight, though Enrico’s is a favorite booze trough for the financial crowd I’m in.” He handed her another drink, and she took a gulp, hiccupped, and giggled. “Would you look at me—all pissy-faced, and I don’t give a crap. The jerk—he wanted to gamble so much he totally forgot me.”
Thomas eyed her, then broke into song again. “Do you know this one? ‘From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli—’”
Everyone joined in with him this time; even Big Ed sang along with them while he sparkled up a glass.
“I met Mr. Montezuma once, but I did lose ten pounds doing it.” She didn’t realize Thomas was more or less holding her up on her bar stool. He laughed. “You know, sweetie, it’s late, and I’m thinking it’s time for you to meet your date with destiny.”
“What destiny?”
“Popping down a half dozen aspirin kind of destiny, but don’t worry, I’ll see you get home and leave you alone to enjoy your hangover all by yourself.”
“With my luck, it’s going to be bad.” She realized she was slurring her words a bit. She sloshed around the mojito left in the glass, thought about a stranger walking her home—he seemed like a real sweetheart, but still, she’d met him only tonight. Genny pulled together arguments as clearly as she could, both pros and cons, and finally nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’d better hang it up.” She gave him a sloppy hug. “Thanks for making me feel better, Thomas.”
He patted her shoulder. “Anytime, babe.”
There was applause for Thomas on their way out the door. He grinned, gave a little wave, and steered her outside. Once on the sidewalk, a cold wind whipped against her face and made her eyes tear up. That’s all she needed was to cry, only these tears were just from the biting wind, thank heaven. She looked around for a taxi, slurred a couple of curses because there was nary a soul to be seen; everything was dead and empty and cold. Well, that was Wall Street at night, after all the hotshots left for the Upper East Side, or Connecticut, or the Hudson Valley, after the chicks flew the work coop. And Lenny was in Atlantic City, kissing dice and rolling them.
The jerk.
She stuck her hand through Thomas’s arm and squeezed. He was a skinny dude, didn’t have much muscle. “I’ve got a condo on Pine Street, only three blocks over.”
A woman came dashing out of Enrico’s, her long blond hair blowing wildly around her head, waving her hands at them. “Wait up!”
The blonde grabbed Genny’s arm and tried to jerk her away from Thomas. “Are you all right?”
“Me? All right? Of course I’m all right; I’m with Thomas. What do you want?”
“You won’t be all right very soon now. I saw this creep slip something in your drink when you went to the restroom. I’ll bet it’s that rape drug, Rohypnol.”
“What’s Rohypnol?”
“You know, roofies, that date-rape drug. You’ve heard of roofies, haven’t you?” The woman didn’t take her eyes off Thomas.
“He gave me a roofie?”
“Yep, slipped it right into your mojito. I’ll bet you’re feeling pretty woozy about now, right?”
More betrayal. She couldn’t take it. Genny erupted, whirled on Thomas, shoved him hard in the chest with the heels of her palms. He wheeled his arms to keep his balance. “You jerk!”
“Wait a minute!”
She slammed her foot in his stomach, and he fell onto his side and rolled off the curb to land on his back, trying to suck in air.
Genny stared down at her supposed friend and wanted to cry. She’d believed him—so cute, a really nice guy, and his singing voice was incredible. He’d listened, actually listened. “I’m sorry you did that, Thomas.”
“I didn’t!” he yelled at the blonde. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m Monica, you lowlife, and I saw you do it! You’re Genny, right? When I saw you come outside with him, I couldn’t stand by, knowing he was going to do something bad to you.”
Thomas was holding his stomach. “Genny, I swear I didn’t put anything in your drink. I didn’t. Why would I?”
Thomas eyed her, then broke into song again. “Do you know this one? ‘From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli—’”
Everyone joined in with him this time; even Big Ed sang along with them while he sparkled up a glass.
“I met Mr. Montezuma once, but I did lose ten pounds doing it.” She didn’t realize Thomas was more or less holding her up on her bar stool. He laughed. “You know, sweetie, it’s late, and I’m thinking it’s time for you to meet your date with destiny.”
“What destiny?”
“Popping down a half dozen aspirin kind of destiny, but don’t worry, I’ll see you get home and leave you alone to enjoy your hangover all by yourself.”
“With my luck, it’s going to be bad.” She realized she was slurring her words a bit. She sloshed around the mojito left in the glass, thought about a stranger walking her home—he seemed like a real sweetheart, but still, she’d met him only tonight. Genny pulled together arguments as clearly as she could, both pros and cons, and finally nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’d better hang it up.” She gave him a sloppy hug. “Thanks for making me feel better, Thomas.”
He patted her shoulder. “Anytime, babe.”
There was applause for Thomas on their way out the door. He grinned, gave a little wave, and steered her outside. Once on the sidewalk, a cold wind whipped against her face and made her eyes tear up. That’s all she needed was to cry, only these tears were just from the biting wind, thank heaven. She looked around for a taxi, slurred a couple of curses because there was nary a soul to be seen; everything was dead and empty and cold. Well, that was Wall Street at night, after all the hotshots left for the Upper East Side, or Connecticut, or the Hudson Valley, after the chicks flew the work coop. And Lenny was in Atlantic City, kissing dice and rolling them.
The jerk.
She stuck her hand through Thomas’s arm and squeezed. He was a skinny dude, didn’t have much muscle. “I’ve got a condo on Pine Street, only three blocks over.”
A woman came dashing out of Enrico’s, her long blond hair blowing wildly around her head, waving her hands at them. “Wait up!”
The blonde grabbed Genny’s arm and tried to jerk her away from Thomas. “Are you all right?”
“Me? All right? Of course I’m all right; I’m with Thomas. What do you want?”
“You won’t be all right very soon now. I saw this creep slip something in your drink when you went to the restroom. I’ll bet it’s that rape drug, Rohypnol.”
“What’s Rohypnol?”
“You know, roofies, that date-rape drug. You’ve heard of roofies, haven’t you?” The woman didn’t take her eyes off Thomas.
“He gave me a roofie?”
“Yep, slipped it right into your mojito. I’ll bet you’re feeling pretty woozy about now, right?”
More betrayal. She couldn’t take it. Genny erupted, whirled on Thomas, shoved him hard in the chest with the heels of her palms. He wheeled his arms to keep his balance. “You jerk!”
“Wait a minute!”
She slammed her foot in his stomach, and he fell onto his side and rolled off the curb to land on his back, trying to suck in air.
Genny stared down at her supposed friend and wanted to cry. She’d believed him—so cute, a really nice guy, and his singing voice was incredible. He’d listened, actually listened. “I’m sorry you did that, Thomas.”
“I didn’t!” he yelled at the blonde. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m Monica, you lowlife, and I saw you do it! You’re Genny, right? When I saw you come outside with him, I couldn’t stand by, knowing he was going to do something bad to you.”
Thomas was holding his stomach. “Genny, I swear I didn’t put anything in your drink. I didn’t. Why would I?”
