Page 117 of The Holy Grail
JULES: Enjoy your day, okay?
PAIGE: I will.
JULES: Hugs, my friend!
JULES: Love you! To the mattresses and back!
PAIGE: Love you, too!
JULES: Say it …
PAIGE: To the mattresses and back!
Chapter 36
Pussy magnet
Evan almost didn’t go to Malcom’s place on Wednesday.
He ended up deciding to go at the last minute and then, because he hated being late anywhere, drove like hell to arrive on time. All the while, his mind churned with pessimistic and optimistic thoughts at war with one another—pessimistic because he didn’t think anything was going to be accomplished, but optimistic because he apparently couldn’t give up hope somethingwouldbe accomplished.
Hope springs eternal.
It was a mindset which had gotten him nowhere many, many times.
His knock at the door was answered quickly by Jules, who was apparently very much at home in Malcom’s large townhouse, and as soon as the thought took up residence in his head, Evan squashed it. It was much too early for his inner bitch to be coming out to play.
“Come in,” Jules said invitingly. “Thank you for coming.”
He almost rolled his eyes at that, as if she hadn’t used extortion to get him here. Instead, he simply looked her up and down, taking in her jeans and long gray sweater, which, despite the relative shapelessness of it, managed to make her look feminine and sexy. Even with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and very little make-up on, she was still a smoke show. “I didn’t have much of a choice. Doing whatever it is we’re doing here at the bar was not a real option.”
Since he didn’t have a coat to hang up, she immediately started leading him down a long hallway, and as they passed open doorways, he glanced in out of curiosity, expecting to see rooms catering to rich people, like a formal sitting room or a library. Instead, all of the rooms were empty, which gave him a strange feeling. He couldn’t help but think if he were watching a movie, this is where a character would find himself (or herself, because he wasn’t sexist) being murdered and then buried in the basement.
“Where’s all the furniture?” Evan asked. “I thought lawyers made good money.”
Lowering her voice, Jules answered, “When Malcom and Gwen got divorced, she ended up with their house and almost everything in it, and when he bought this place, he—”
“Didn’t buy any furniture to put in it?”
“He bought some, but he’s not really big on shopping.”
“Clearly. The divorce was like … what, six years ago?”
“I know.”
“So, are we going to be standing around the entire time we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing here?”
Just then, they stepped into a kitchen that had Evan stopping in his tracks. “Whoa. This is nice,” he said, looking around at the beautiful and impressive space. He wasn’t much of a cook (watching shows on TV was about as far as he got), but he knew a state-of-the-art kitchen when he saw one. He also knew when something really delicious was being cooked, and he figured at least he was going to get a good meal out of the evening.
Malcom turned and reiterated what Jules had said just moments before. “Thank you for coming.” Then motioning behind him toward the island, he added, “There’s wine if you’d like some.”
Seeing both Malcom and Jules had glasses of wine already, Evan decided one of his own wouldn’t hurt, so he picked up the glass which had obviously been set out for him and filled it halfway. As he was setting the bottle back down (it was a really nice Cabernet Sauvignon), a cat jumped up onto the island and made its way over to him. It was beautiful, with multi-colored fur in shades of black, brown, gold, russet, and white. “Well, hello, there,” he greeted the feline, who began to rub its face against Evan’s arm. “I didn’t picture you having a cat,” he said to Malcom.
“She’s a stray, who just sort of moved in. I really didn’t have any say in the matter,” Malcom replied, moving from the cook top to the double ovens to check on something inside.
“Hmm,” Evan said, giving Jules a pointed look, as if to say,I know how the cat feels.“So, what’s her name?”
“At first it was Don Corleone—”
