Page 99 of The Holy Grail
“I like your place,” she told him.
He motioned for her to have a seat. “Sure you do.”
“No, I really do,” she insisted as she sat down on one of the chairs, which turned out to be surprisingly comfortable. “It has a fun, funky vibe.” As she leaned back, she noticed lamps on both end tables flanking the couch, the bases of which were voluptuous, bronze mermaids, with gravity-defying breasts. Pointing to one and then the other, she said, “Those are definitely fun.”
Evan sat down on the couch and gave her a long look, as if trying to gauge her sincerity. “They used to belong to Cat Lady.”
“What? No.”
“Yeah. David bought them for her. Apparently they had a pair of ugly bedroom lamps when they were married, and her cat had broken one of them, and then he broke the other one by accident—or so he claims—and bought her those as replacements to mess with her.”
“I have no doubt.”
“Anyway, when she moved in with him, I thought they’d be a bit much for Jacob to see, so David gave them to me.” He then leaned forward and picked up the bottle of tequila. “Now, you didn’t come over here to talk to me about my lamps, so after you catch up with me, you’re going to tell me why you’re really here.”
She leaned forward as well, taking the shot he poured her and throwing it back. He quickly poured her another one, which she threw back as well, only this time when she was finished, she exhaled a huge breath. “Jesus Christ.”
“Two more to go,” Evan said.
“You said you’d hadthree.”
“I did, but then I had another one while I was waiting for you to get here.”
Because she wasn’t a quitter, she drank the last two shots.
When she was done, and her entire body felt like it was now ten degrees warmer, he got up and disappeared for several moments. Upon his return, he handed her a large glass of water. “Here.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully, taking a large drink and hoping her liver was in a forgiving mood.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” Evan prompted, figuring the sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could be watchingThe Great British Baking Show, which he’d recently become addicted to.
“Well, I understand Malcom and his wife spent time with you—”
“Spent time with me?” he scoffed. “You understand nothing.”
She set the glass of water down. “You didn’t let me finish. I understand Malcom and his wife spent time with you in a sexual context—”
“‘Sexual context’?”
“I’m trying to keep this …” Jules trailed off, momentarily floundering for the right word, wondering if the alcohol was partly to blame. “Neutral.”
“Neutral?”
“Unemotional.”
“Unemotional? Okay, well, you’re just sounding like a robot,” he pointed out. “So, just tell me what you think you know, using normal words.”
Slowly, she began telling him what she knew, keeping it short and sweet, uncaring if she still sounded like a robot. Every time she mentioned Gwen’s name, Evan made a face, but remained silent until Jules was finished.
“That’s the abridged version,” Evan said.
Her eyebrows drew together. “So tell me the unabridged version.”
He leaned forward and began pouring two shots of tequila. “First, let me ask you something.”
“Okay.”
He pushed her shot toward her, then picked up his and downed it. “What do you know about triads?”
