Chapter One, part three

Silence at last.

Charlie’s head was spinning, but whether it was from the crowd or the gin, he couldn’t tell. Nor did it matter since he was only willing to do away with the crowd, not the gin. With the tip of his finger, he touched the three glasses on the table in front of him. Yes, they were still there. The third one was a gin fizz—his gin dessert to come after his gin appetizer and gin main course.

He chuckled to himself. The great thing about being here at the Breakers was that no one paid attention to what he drank, or when. Would he have time to drink himself to death while he was here? It seemed unlikely. But then again, it was good to have a goal.

The room smelled of books. Good God, it had taken him forever to make his way here after that horrible interaction in the grand salon. That woman—girl?—had come out of nowhere. He’d been so focused on the band—the upright bass seemed to strum right into the soles of his feet—that he hadn’t realized she was there. And then she’d startled him with that voice of hers, like velvet woven out of honey. It was the kind of voice that put hooks into you. So of course, he’d been rude. Because he was an ass.

Mercifully, the outside sounds of the party and the ocean waves were muffled here. He breathed deeply and took a long drink from the gin appetizer.
The air moved; heels clicked toward him over the wooden floor. He smelled lilac soap and his spine stiffened. Someone was here.

“Oh, goodness, I didn’t see you.” It was the velvet voice. His spine turned to iron. “Would you like me to turn on the lights?”

Christ. He was sitting in the dark like a nut. “No, thank you,” he said, searching for an excuse. “Headache.”

“Ah.” Had she noticed that he was treating his headache purely with alcohol? “I’m sorry for disturbing you. Again. I—I was looking for the stairway. I’m a bit turned about, I guess. So many people.”

He swung around in his chair, his elbow clonking one of the glasses. “You’re quite close to the back stairs. Did you come down by the main ones?”
“I think so. They were very wide.”

“The back stairs are right near us. When you leave this room, turn left and immediately left again.” Twenty steps to the first landing, six to the next, fourteen steps to the top. He’d counted them yesterday.

“Thank you. I appreciate your help.” There was a strain in her voice. Probably the result of his being an ass.

The air moved again, returning the blessed hush. He reached for his glasses and downed the main course.